Sweat seeps down the small of my back as I strain to see through the mist.  My eyes dart back and forth but I can’t locate the source of the terrible sound echoing against the brick walls of the alley, reminding me of claws dragging against metal.  Gritting my teeth, I shiver uncontrollably.  My clothes are soaked, slick against my clammy skin. 

Terror washes over me as his hot breath touches me from behind. 

I scream . . .

 . . . and am in the lobby of an old theater. 

There’s a coffin in the middle of the room, and I drift to the other side to see what’s inside.  The remains of my husband’s face floats in a bath of blood.  My hand flies to cover the cry of horror that is escaping my mouth.  I back away from the sickening smell of death.  Terror, grief and a sense of justice fight for domination over my emotions as I stare at the gruesome sight.  A scraping noise startles me out of my trance. Alarmed, I flee through the doors and into the theater. 

The foul aroma of a thousand spilt sodas assaults my nostrils, the rancid decaying carpet causing me to crinkle my nose.  Each step I take toward the stage makes me quiver, but I must reach the exit. A rusty creak shatters the silence of the darkened theater as a sliver of light passes by me.  I spin around. 

A dark form lurks in the doorway, backlit by the brightness of the lobby.  He utters my name sending his hideous breath in my direction, a reminder of rotting eggs. 

My lungs constrict. Oh God, he found me. 

My heart pounds wildly and I reach a door that leads beneath the stage.  I slam it and flip the lock.  The bellow of rage fills the room as he repeatedly strikes the door.  I am entombed in darkness, and each strike sends me further into the blackness. 

Then silence.  I hold my breath, waiting, listening.  The only sound I hear is the frantic beat of my heart. 

A crack of light invades the darkness. Another door.  I bolt, throwing my weight against it, but I’m not strong enough.  The door swings open.

I stagger into the far corner, my breath coming in ragged rasps. 

A low chuckle emanates from him as he prowls closer.  I can see the twisted metal form that he carries and I gasp.  He reaches for me and I let out a shrill cry . . .

 . . . I sit upright in bed, my hand covering the scream.  It’s too late; the light flips on in the hallway. 

“Are you alright?”  My husband steps into the room. 

I nod, swallowing and offering a pitiful smile.  “Nightmare.” 

He smiles.  “You’ve been reading too many horror stories.” 

“It was a bad one.” 

“I could tell.  The neighbors must think I’m killing you.” He grins.  “Either that or you’re having one hell of an orgasm.”  

I blush as the dream dissipates. 

He slowly approaches the bed, un-tucking his shirt. 

I giggle like a school girl anticipating his touch. 

His hands drift over my feet and clamp down on my ankles, violently yanking me to the foot of the bed.  “You didn’t tell me you were pregnant.”    

My smile freezes as I look in his eyes.  Rage gazes back at me.   

“The doctor called.  He asked what pharmacy he should have your prescription sent to.  I got a hell of a surprise when I picked it up for you.  Prenatal vitamins?”  He grabs the front of my shirt, yanking me to his face.  “Who have you been sleeping with?” 

“Nobody!”  I scream, momentarily infuriated by his accusation. 

“It isn’t mine.”  His voice barely a whisper. 

The calmness of his voice brings the terror back.  “Of course it is.”   

“You’ve been a bad girl.”  He punches me in the stomach, knocking me to the floor.   “You need to be taught a lesson.”  He unbuckles his belt.

I have never seen him like this, he means to kill me.  I’m pregnant!  The scream is only in my head.  I watch horrified as he yanks the belt out of the loops and swings it at me.  The sting that flares in my cheek catches me off guard.  My hand flutters to the side of my face. 

“Please don’t.”  I try to scramble backwards.  The belt hits my arm this time, causing me to yelp in pain.  I finally find my feet as he cocks his arm back for a third whipping. 

“No one makes a fool out of me!  No one!”  He advances swinging the belt as hard as he can. 

It connects with my stomach, doubling me over.  I drop to the floor.  Before I can catch my breath he kicks me.  The moan that escapes my lips fills the room. 

“I’m sterile you bitch!”  He reaches down grabbing a handful of my hair, yanking me to my feet. 

Blood flows from my mouth.  “I didn’t sleep with anyone else.”  The tears fill my eyes, blinding me before they spill over.

He drops the belt and jerks my head back.  “Don’t lie to me.”  He growls in my face. 

“I haven’t been screwing around!”  I shake in his grasp. 

“Liar.”  He smacks me across my face and drags me to the bed, ripping at my clothes.     

I almost get away, but he slams his fist into the bridge of my nose.  Stars fill my eyes and the soft fabric of the bed engulfs me as I fall, dazed.  My underwear is torn from my body and then the bed springs creak.  My husband mutters under his breath as he crosses to the closet. 

My husband rips the paper framing the hanger, tossing it to the ground and gaining my attention.  He rapidly untwists the twine of the hanger creating a crude instrument meant for destruction. 

In my dazed state, understanding of his intention eludes me until he turns and smiles in my direction. 

“You’re not gonna have another man’s child.” He is on me before I can react. 

I scream as he pries my legs apart, kneeling on my thighs and pinning me to the bed. 

I swing to hit him, but he is faster, catching my wrist and sharply twisting it.  The pain comes with the sick snap of the bone. 

He drops the hanger and slaps me twice, letting go of my broken limb. 

I yank my arm back to my chest, cradling it as the tears streak my face.   I lunge for the discarded hanger, feeling the metal in my grip as I whip it across his face.  He falls back, freeing my legs and I kick, connecting with his stomach, knocking him off the bed. 

I flee but everything is sluggish again.   I reach the top of the stairs, losing my balance and pin wheeling, landing . . .

 . . . in an alley.  I shake my head to clear it.  My arm is in a cast, and fog engulfs me. 

A dead end.  No where to go.  I back against the brick wall, feeling the rough surface with my good hand, and watch the thick fog swirl in front of me. 

Footsteps approach.  Its foul rotting breath is accompanied by a low visceral growl that shatters through the mist. 

I am frantic. 

The beast has come for me and I realize with horror that it is carrying a twisted coat hanger. 

I scream . . .

. . . and sit up in bed.

My husband flips on the light on the nightstand, looking at me with sleepy surprise.  “You okay?”  He rubs my back with eyes full of concern. 

I look at the familiar surroundings and burst into tears.

He sits up and pulls me into his arms.

I flinch, glancing at the cast on my arm.  The understanding that I am no longer pregnant slams into my consciousness and the sobs begin to rip from my chest. 

“It wasn’t your fault,” he reminds me.  You fell down the stairs.” 

He kisses my temple holding me until I stop crying. 

“Did I kick you again?” 

He laughs a little as darkness flares in his eyes.  “I don’t know.  I didn’t wake up until you screamed.   Try to get some sleep.”  He flips the light off.

I stare in the dark listening to his breathing slow to even rhythms as sleep finds him. 

I don’t remember what happened. 

Was it the fall?

Was it? 

Eventually, I drift into a restless sleep.