Insomnia

Sarah froze. That crawling-on-the-skin, cold feeling was back, stronger and harder than it had been last night. The darkness seemed to thicken around her, almost taking on a solidity of its own. To her right, toward the bedroom, she heard the first soft rustling noise, then a low, thin moan.
"Nooooooooo..."
It seemed as if the word itself was trying to form a barrier of protection.
Soft, feminine sobbing trickled under the closed door, pooling around Sarah's fear and fascination. Torn between aversion and sympathy, she could not force her body to move. Unable to flee, she sank to her haunches, her breath coming in quick, shallow gasps. What was she going to witness tonight?
"Leave me alone," begged the voice that was not there. "Please!"
There was no chance to even try to escape. A familiar wave of nausea and freezing air rolled through her, knocking her onto her hands and knees. Gagging, she tried to back away toward the bathroom. He was awakening. The door in front of her slammed open as nothing stormed furiously into the empty bedroom.
The female voice grew louder and more firm. "Stat out! Stay away from me!" The jagged edges of her last word were followed by his loud slap, her gasp and cry, and a soft thud as only the memory of a body landed on the floor, and then his voice struck Sarah, nearly bowling her over.
"You don't ever talk to me that way!"
Please, thought Sarah, Let them sleep. Tears threatened her vision. Too scared to move, she let them fall, leaving dark spots on the front of her fuzzy pink nightshirt.
Is this it... what I've been hearing? I don't want to see...
Deep and grating, the tormentor's voice dragged across her gut, leaving a thick, heavy trail of dread.
"Get up! I didn't hit you that hard"
The sobbing grew louder as the growling moved across the room, accompanied by the sound of work boots stomping on a hardwood floor that was not there. "What are you hiding under your hands, child? I all ready know you're getting fat. You eat more than the pigs. Give me what you're holding..."
Silence reigned for a moment, followed by an unintelligible roar that shook the walls. The bathroom door was too far away. She wasn't going to make it, and the voices were getting louder.
"WHORE!" Deep and guttural, his shriek ripped at Sarah's psyche. "What did you do? Who have you been with?"
Pounding shook the whole upstairs as he chased her across the room. She screamed, and something fell from the dresser. The very air in the room seemed to brighten. Through her streaming tears, Sarah watched as the girl's form began to define itself.
Petite and shapely but for her rounded belly, the sobbing voice's owner fled the room, eyes wide with panic, her long, light hair flying out behind her, the skirt of her dress nearly hiding a total lack of feet. Lost in despair, she streaked past Sarah's vantage point and through the next room. Floating behind her was a wild-eyed man with a full, black beard covering most of the buttons on his flannel shirt. His ragged, unkempt hair framed a square face with a thick jaw, set in anger, grinding a mouth full of crooked, stained teeth together. His patched trousers stopped just below the knees, leaving no visible way for him to run after the girl, yet that chase continued.
"Little bitch," he screamed, tearing out huge handfuls of his own hair. "All these years I've provided for you... you TRAMP!"
Sarah watched through the perforated back "wall" of the bookshelf that divided that room and created the makeshift hallway in which she was hiding. The girl ran on invisible feet until she reached the window. Unneeded breath coming in short gasps, she climbed up onto the sill, glanced back at her assailant, threw a terrified scream his way, and jumped. Her scene ended with a sickening thud.
A horrible sound filled the entire floor... rage, fear, and shock erupted from the throat of the psychotic phantom. He ran to the window and beat his fists on the frame, shouting obscenities. He called her names Sarah had never heard, pulled at his hair and clothes, threw himself around like a child, and stomped his feet.
A feeling of suffocation alerted Sarah to the fact that she was holding her breath out. Her chest felt like it had become concave, and her head pounded with every heartbeat. She drew in a slow, deep, burning breath through her mouth. As she did, the enraged spirit abruptly ceased his rampage, cocked his head as if listening, and then began to look around the room. Had he heard her?
Involuntarily, she put her fingers to her lips as if to hold in the sound of her existence.
His low, slow groan rolled across the room and up through the bottom of her heart... "Whooo's theeeere?" His wild eyes narrowed as he stared into the darkness.
Her own eyes widening in terror, Sarah once again began backing away, this time toward the stairs.
Immediately, the spectre's eyes locked on her through the bookcase, and an oversized, evil grin split his ugly face.
Half singing, half moaning, he taunted her: "Come here, little girl."
Sarah tried to rise and run at the same time, skittering across the rest of the suddenly very long ten feet of floor between the bathroom door and the stairs. As she moved, that grin melted into a foul, hungry grimace, and he rushed across the room toward her, hands outstretched as if to push her down. She fled sideways down the stairs, her back against one wall, unable to turn her face away and blind herself to the terror behind her. Expecting him to follow, she saw instead that he stopped at the top of the stairs, his face twisting and contorting with effort and ire, teeth bared, eyes bulging, his incomplete body straining against some barrier that Sarah could barely see. After a moment of confusion, his struggles ceased. He concentrated for a moment, raised his hands, and pushed as if to knock the barrier down. His arms broke through the light shimmer in the air before him, and stretched toward her, becoming incredibly long and thin, as if he were a cartoon.
She dodged around the corner of the stairwell, falling down the last few steps to the floor of her mother's office. Panic threatened her with an asthma attack, constricting her throat and tightening her chest, but Sarah continued moving backward.
The hands didn't follow her around the corner. For a moment, they hovered in the air, then faded like smoke on a windy day. He was gone again, and it was over... for now.
Sarah stood up, then wilted. Hands on her knees, and leaning against the wall, she slowly began to calm her spasming lungs. Her breath came in long, whistling gasps. Slowly, she began to regain control. Her throat relaxed, and the whistling faded.
Quietly, she headed to the kitchen for a hot drink. Might as well get a book, too, she thought as passed the breakfast bar. It's gonna be a long one.
The spirits were once again at rest, but how the hell was she going to sleep tonight?