I don’t realise there is something worse than the movement in the dark until I realise there is nothing around me. No wall. No feature to guide me. I am crouched in darkness so total I can’t see my own hands. I don’t know where I am. My sobs rebound from the awful dark.

Bolting upright, I stare around my room in panic. Despite the stifling heat my entire body is shivering. Rhi doesn’t move, thank God. I really don’t want to hear her ask me if I am okay again. Pulling the old doona up over me I try to return warmth to my bones. The comfort of family had finally helped me get to sleep. Rubbing my arms briskly, I fight the urge to wake Rhi. Somehow telling her more of the dreams doesn’t seem like a good idea.

Once I stop shaking I slip out of bed as carefully as I can. Mum must finally be asleep too because the house is in darkness. I tiptoe over the creaking floorboards, my eyes already able to make out the dark shapes. I navigate carefully out of the room, closing the door behind me, before finding my way into the kitchen where I dare to turn on a light.

The brightness burns my eyes and I keep them shut while I steer around the kitchen table, making for the sunroom. Once I feel the blessed darkness close back in, I open my eyes, waiting till the sparkling lights stop dancing in my vision to look outside. Then I just sit, staring, trying not to think.

These nightmares are driving me mad. The thought loops around and around in my head without end.

A scraping noise breaks the loop. I stop. Listening. The air is so heavy I can drink it. I feel it more as a vibration rather than a noise.

There! Near Laney’s room.

I’m running before the thought finishes, straight to the room, desperate to see her sneaking back in her window. The door is shut. I hear the sound, rumbling up through my feet. Throwing the door open I look, but see only the empty windows spread wide to catch any stir of coolness in the night air.

Nothing.

Laney’s room has four windows across two sides of the house – two look out onto our front yard, through our crappy little fence and onto the street. The streetlight floods the space; she’s always complained about that. It shows me how empty her room is.

I sag against the doorjamb and berate myself for imagining things. There is nothing moving out there. Goosebumps race over my entire body, but I can’t say why.