Veiled by Karina Halle

won’t stop.”
    I try to swallow and can’t.
    “You have to be brave sweetie, you have to be brave.”
    “Mom?” I manage to whisper. Because this isn’t a dream now, this is real, this is happening .
    I move toward the closet, each step I take becoming lighter, like the closet itself is pulling me in. I have a vision that if I closed my eyes and let myself go, I would fly through the air, into the darkness, into my mother’s arms.
    I open my eyes and suddenly I’m right there. My hand is inches from grasping the knob. It wants to. My palm burns and my hand twists involuntarily, desperate for contact.
    “Don’t.”
    The voice comes loud and clear across the room.
    I gasp and spin around.
    There is someone standing by my bed. Tall, broad-shouldered, faceless in the night.
    Sweet fucking bejesus.
    My mouth opens, words on my tongue, a scream building in my lungs.
    But nothing happens. I stand there, staring, unable to move again.
    “Don’t touch that door. Don’t go inside.”
    His voice is hard and commanding, yet instantly familiar.
    But it can’t be.
    “You’re not dreaming,” he says, softer now. “Not this time.”
    I lick my lips, my throat parched. “It was you,” I manage to say. “You were sitting on my bed.”
    The man shakes his head and I wish I could see more than just his form against the windows. “No. That wasn’t me.”
    “Who was that?” I whisper, my voice trembling, every single cell inside me trembling. I’m legitimately concerned I might pee right here and now.
    “Something you don’t want to meet,” the man says smoothly, his voice still taking on an edge.
    But for whatever reason, the man in my room now is much less terrifying than the thing that went in the closet.
    “Who are you?”
    Warmth floods into my limbs and I take a step toward him, able to move.
    He doesn’t answer.
    I keep walking, slowly across the room. I’m about a foot away and his features are coming together. Even the smell of him is familiar.
    He stiffens.
    “Who are you?” I repeat, making out his sharp jawline, thick neck. The swoop of long hair. “Jay?” I whisper.
    He sucks in his breath and the pause between us deepens. “I’m your—”
    “Ada?” Perry’s voice shatters the room.
    The door opens and once again I’m jumping from fright and whirling around to see her shadow at the door, the hall light on behind her. “Ada are you okay? Who are you talking to?”
    There is panic in her voice and she fumbles for the lights.
    They come on, too bright and I wince, covering my eyes, before looking back to Jay.
    He’s gone.
    I’m standing by the bed, facing the wall, and no one is there.
    “Ada?” Perry comes in voice higher now, quietly shutting the door behind her. “What happened?”
    “I . . .” I stammer, blinking at the place Jay was. He was here, I know he was, just as I’m sure that some being went into the closet.
    Even now, the closet seems to pulse and hum with its own kind of malevolent energy.
    I look over at her with wide-eyes, my heart sinking because I know what she’s going to say. “Didn’t you see him?”
    “See who?” she asks, frowning.
    “I was talking to a man,” I say quietly, pressing my lips together.
    “You were sleepwalking,” Perry says.
    “I wasn’t,” I tell her sharply. “You weren’t sleepwalking when this happened to you.”
    “Ada,” she says. “It’s the middle of the night and you’re suffering from a sleep disorder.”
    I march over to her, the blood in my face hot with anger. “You of all people should know that these things can’t be played off that easily! You should know nothing is so easily explained with us. I wasn’t sleepwalking Perry. There was a man here and before that, there was something on my bed.”
    Her eyes dart to the bed and back to me.
    I go on. “I had a terrible dream about mom. I woke up, paralyzed. You know, like the syndrome sometimes does to you. But there was someone else in this room with me.