“What am I supposed to do?” I whispered over the phone, “He’s doing it again.” Except this time, he was shouting. Jumbled words in garbled sentences that almost didn’t seem to make sense.

“Whatever you do, do NOT confront him!” The voice crackled on the other end and the thought of losing connection with my one, ally in this world terrified me. “I’m coming over.”

She hung up. She was gone. Panic engulfed me so quickly that I was crying before I slipped my phone into my pocket.

Seven minutes. That’s how long it would take her to get from the motel she was staying at to my house. Even then I had no idea what she was going to do when she got here. The only thing I was certain of was that I wanted someone else here with me.

“Darling! Is that you up and about?” I froze, had I really been heard? Whispering from the opposite end of the house shouldn’t have alerted him. I thought I had been careful enough! “My love, we’ve talked about this.” He was getting closer and I could hear a twinge of anger in his voice, “You need your rest and you really, really should not disturb me when I’m working on such important things in my study so late at night!”

Panic overwhelmed me, bile rising in my throat as I heard his footsteps get even closer. They were moving too quickly. I had to do something. I ran into the bathroom, and slammed the door. Latching the deadbolt came a split second before James began banging on the door. How had he gotten there so quickly? He was moving so quickly.

“Kim, open this door!” The banging was tremendous as he attempted to beat down the door with his bare hands. The noise was ear-splitting. Hands covering my ears with sobs wracking my body, I sank to the floor. The door was splintering under the barrage of fists.

Suddenly, just when I thought I wouldn’t be able to take the noise anymore and just as I thought the door would break apart, the banging stopped. I became overwhelmingly and painfully aware of how hard my heart was pounding. I was afraid he would be able to hear it and my obvious fear would feed his fire. His demonic, sick fire.

Whispering started again. The same whispering, I had been hearing nearly every night for months on end. But now there was multiple voices. Some were low pitch; some were high pitched. There was so many. The banging resumed.

I clamped my hands over my ears again but there were no tears this time. I remained curled up on the cold tile floor of the bathroom I had so many fond memories of. The romantic bubble baths that we shared when we were newly-weds and new home owners and the nights of morning sickness I experienced, slumped over the toilet with him right by my side before we had lost the baby.

Where was she? Where was my last ally?