A noise wakes me. It was a thud and it sounded like it was coming from Leo’s room. My body refuses to move. I can’t even lift my head from the pillow. Perhaps I’m the one who’s dreaming. Sleep paralysis, maybe.

No. There it is again.

Not a dream.

The reason I can’t move is fear. Pure and simple.

If I move, if I walk into Leo’s room, I’m afraid I’m going to see a figure standing over his bed.

I hear the ticking of the clock on my bedside table. Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock. My heart beats in time with it. Steady, but fast.

Move, Amber. Move.

Protect your children.

I’m finally able to swing my legs out of bed and I take the knife from the drawer. I’ve been keeping it there just in case. I have to be armed with something more surreptitious than a baseball bat; it makes me feel slightly more confident. As I reach my bedroom door, I hear the bathroom door closing. I stand with my back against the wall just inside my bedroom, allowing myself to relax a little. It’s only Leo or Finley visiting the toilet. I’ll wait here to make sure they get back into bed okay. Seeing their mother with a knife wouldn’t be good.

They’re taking a long time. I glance back at the clock; the illuminated hands tell me it’s two-forty. I strain to hear any noises coming from the bathroom. Nothing. Had they been coming out of the bathroom when I heard the door close? I peep around the doorframe. There’s no glow of light leaking from beneath the door. But I can hear a scraping noise. I walk to Leo’s room, as it’s first, and open the door a crack. I hear gentle breathing. I push it fully open. No one is in there with Leo. I do the same with Finley’s room. Nothing.

Neither of them are making any noise. And both seem in a deep sleep.

So, who was in the bathroom?

I wish Richard was here – his calming presence would be really helpful in this moment. His strength, his gentle voice of reason would soothe and reassure me. And he’d be the one to check out these noises, then when he found nothing untoward, he’d hold me in his arms until we fell asleep again. But he’s not here. It’s all on me. So, with the knife now held in front of me, I edge towards the bathroom. I put my ear flat to the door and hold my breath again. Silence.

I open the door and pull the light cord.

White light blinds me for a moment, then my eyes adjust. The window is open an inch, the cold air seeping through. I shiver and reach forward to close it.