DEAR
The married couple, Genevieve Hwang and Vincent William relocated to a vibrant neighborhood in Melbourne, hoping for a fresh start. Despite the friendly community, Genevieve's persistent hallucinations continued to haunt her. Professional help...
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HIDDEN SHADOW
The clock struck nine in the evening, and the day's hustle had given way to the quietude of the night.
Genevieve and Vincent, in the comfort of their bed, prepared to embrace the realm of dreams.
In her mother's white nightgown, Genevieve traversed the room, only to find the absence of her once-beloved vanity desk.
It now belonged to Jake, residing downstairs. Vincent, engrossed in a motivational book, sat on the bed while Genevieve brushed her hair.
Exhaling the weariness of the day, she remarked, "It's been a long day."
Vincent, his focus still on the motivational prose, inquired, "You okay?"
Genevieve, placing the hairbrush on the bedside table, covered herself in a blanket. "Goodnight."
As Vincent prepared to put down his book, he pecked her cheek. "Goodnight, Evie." He draped himself in a blanket and asked, "You want me to turn off the light?"
Shaking her head, Genevieve stared at the empty ceiling. "Um, it's fine."
Understanding her preference for a lighted room, Vincent settled in for sleep.
"I can't sleep," Genevieve admitted, prompting Vincent to open his eyes. He shifted his head, his gaze focused on her.
"What's up?" he asked gently. "I can turn off the light if you want."
"I have something to say," she told him.
"What is it?"
Sighing without meeting his eyes, she said, "It got me thinking about my emotional state. I realized that therapy won't help me get any better at all."
Vincent, placing his hand over hers gripping the sheet, reassured, "I believe it will take some time to heal, Evie. I've seen how much you've changed. Can't you believe that?"
Shaking her head, she murmured, "No, it's not. I just want this to stop."
Vincent sighed, concern etched on his face. "Evie, what's going on? You looked fine this morning, but something's bothering you now. What is it?"
Silence lingered, and she gazed back at the ceiling.
He looked at her with growing concern. After a moment of stillness, Vincent spoke, "I know you're feeling stressed, Evie, but this is the least I can do for you."
"I know," she muttered.
As the night progressed, Genevieve's mood swung erratically, leading her to talk and ramble about her concerns.
"I'm getting tired now," she said, closing her eyes.
Wanting to share her feelings about the old man she had seen earlier, she hesitated, fearing Vincent's constant concern.
She had never discussed her hallucinations in the days before moving out of their apartment, but they seemed to resurface.
Vincent, getting out of bed after watching her nearly fall asleep, said, "I'll get your pills."
Vincent assumed that her rambling might be due to missing her bedtime medication.
The house, bathed in darkness, revealed only the glow from the streetlight outside, illuminating the living room and the kitchen.
Vincent descended to the kitchen, turned on the light, and took a glass of water from the fridge.
Standing by the sink, he stared outside the kitchen window, his thoughts brooding after the conversation with Genevieve.
Deciding against bringing her medication, he took a sip of the water instead.
Unbeknownst to Vincent, a small shadow lingered by the kitchen doorway, watching him from behind.
As Vincent turned away from the sink, the shadow vanished, and he continued to turn off the light, heading upstairs.
Entering the bedroom, Vincent noticed Genevieve already asleep.
He quietly placed the glass of water on the nightstand and lay down next to her, a sense of calm washing over him.
Little did he know that an ominous presence was lurking in the shadows, watching them both—the same small shadow that had observed him in the kitchen.
As Vincent drifted into sleep, unaware of the impending danger, the night remained peaceful until a sudden noise jolted Genevieve awake.
Sitting up in bed, heart pounding, she found Vincent still in a deep sleep.
Adjusting to the darkness, she saw a shadowy figure at the foot of their bed—small and almost imperceptible, yet undeniably present.
Terrified, she tried to wake Vincent, but he remained in a deep slumber.
The shadow advanced, growing larger with each passing moment. Panic enveloped Genevieve as she let out a blood-curdling scream, rousing Vincent.
"Evie, what's going on?" he asked, nearly jumping out of bed.
Pointing to the shadowy figure, Genevieve watched as it disappeared before Vincent's eyes.
"It's probably your imagination, Evie," he reassured, holding her close. "You'll be okay. Get some rest."
But Genevieve knew what she saw was real. The small, shadowy figure lingered, waiting for its next chance.
The night held a secret, and she couldn't shake the feeling of impending danger.
Vincent, like many people, preferred explanations that made sense. The idea of a shadowy figure in their room seemed unlikely to him.
He wanted to believe it was just a product of a restless mind or a bad dream.
More than anything, Vincent cared about Genevieve's feelings. He didn't want her to be more scared or anxious.
So, he tried to downplay the situation, telling himself that there wasn't really something spooky in their room.
Even though Vincent felt a bit uneasy deep down, he didn't want to make things scarier for Genevieve.
He wanted to be her support, her rock. So, he told her not to worry, hoping that his words would make the scary stuff go away and they could go back to having a peaceful night.
