The Monster in My Sleep

Our wedding invitations were chosen, promising a beautiful future with Mike, my college sweetheart of eight years.

Then, Mike arrived, face ashen, eyes haunted.

He thrust an envelope at me: "I can't do this, Sarah."

Pure terror consumed his face as he fled.

That was just the first loop.

Friends whispered about "what they saw" and abandoned me.

I lost my job to "disturbing incidents."

My beloved cat mysteriously died, then my mother collapsed, eyes wide with paralyzing fear.

My father, seeing something monstrous in me, whispered, "It's better this way," as he smothered me.

Each time, I woke on "breakup day" again, trapped in a horrifying cycle.

Everyone I loved vanished, terrified of *me*, yet I had no idea why.

What was I?

What was happening when I slept that drove them to such profound fear?

Desperate, I wired my apartment with hidden cameras.

The footage I played back shattered my world: *I* was the monster.

Crawling on all fours, vacant eyes, unnatural speed, guttural sounds – it was utterly terrifying.

The wedding invitations sat in a neat stack on the coffee table. Cream-colored cardstock, elegant script. We'd picked them out just last week.

Mike was supposed to be home an hour ago.

I called his phone again. Straight to voicemail.

A knot tightened in my stomach. This wasn't like him.

Finally, headlights swept across the living room wall. I rushed to the door, relief washing over me.

But the man who stepped out of the car wasn't the Mike I knew.

His face was pale, his eyes wide and haunted. He flinched when I reached for him.

"Mike? What's wrong?"

He wouldn't look at me. He just thrust a thick envelope into my hand.

"I can't do this, Sarah."

His voice was a raw whisper.

"Can't do what? Mike, you're scaring me."

"Us. The wedding. I can't."

The words hit me like a physical blow. I stumbled back, clutching the envelope.

"What are you talking about? We just set the date."

"I know. I'm sorry." He still wouldn't meet my eyes. He looked past me, at something I couldn't see.

"Sorry? That's it? You're breaking up with me, just like that?"

Tears pricked my eyes. This had to be a nightmare.

"There's money in there," he said, gesturing to the envelope. "For everything. The deposits, the dress... anything I owed you."

"Owed me? Mike, we're getting married!" My voice cracked.

He finally looked at me then, and the fear in his eyes was so profound it stole my breath. It wasn't anger, or doubt. It was pure, unadulterated terror.

"Please, Sarah. Just... let it go. Don't ask questions. Just let me go."

He backed away, his hands up as if to ward me off.

"But why?" I begged. "What happened? Did I do something?"

"No. It's not you. It's... it's me. I can't explain."

He fumbled for his car keys, his hands shaking.

"Mike, don't do this!" I cried, reaching for him again.

He recoiled as if I'd burned him.

"Stay away from me!"

The words were a choked gasp. He scrambled into his car and slammed the door.

I stood there, stunned, as he reversed out of the driveway and sped away.

The envelope felt heavy in my hand.

College sweethearts. Eight years together.

Gone.

With no explanation. Just fear.

The silence in our apartment was a crushing weight. His side of the closet, empty. His toothbrush, gone.

I couldn't stay there.

I found a small, new apartment across town. Anonymous. Clean. Empty.

The boxes were barely unpacked when I decided to host a housewarming. A desperate attempt at normalcy.

I invited a few colleagues from work. Alex, Maria, Ben. People I shared polite office chatter with.

I needed to feel like a person, not a ghost in my own life.

The evening started well enough. Wine, cheese, forced laughter.

I was exhausted. The emotional toll of the past few weeks had hollowed me out.

I must have fallen asleep on the sofa.

The next morning, I woke to an empty apartment.

No note. Just silence.

At work on Monday, Alex, Maria, and Ben avoided my gaze. They whispered when they thought I couldn't hear.

By lunchtime, Alex approached my desk, his face pale.

"Sarah, we... we can't work with you anymore."

"What? Why?"

He stammered, "Last night... at your apartment... what we saw..."

He couldn't finish. He just shook his head, his eyes wide with a fear I was starting to recognize.

Maria and Ben had already submitted their resignations.

My boss called me in. He was sympathetic but firm.

"There have been... complaints. About your behavior. Disturbing incidents."

"What incidents?" I pleaded. "What did they say I did?"

He wouldn't elaborate. "It's best if you take some time off, Sarah. Perhaps a leave of absence."

I walked out of the office in a daze.

First Mike. Now my colleagues.

Everyone was running from me.

And I had no idea why.

The fear in their eyes was a mirror, reflecting a monster I couldn't see.