Can't Sleep... ?

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I woke up because somebody whisper. At first I think it only dream because I been half drowning in sleep, but then the voice come again, quiet, soft, right near the door. “Mama, I can’t sleep. Can I sleep beside you?” My eyes opened slow, sticky like glue. I seen the shadow of her, my little girl, just stand there.

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I mumbled yes. Yes darling. My throat dry and scratch. I rolled just a bit so she could climb, the way she do most nights when nightmares chase. Then I froze like ice broke inside me, cause something ain’t right.

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There’s already weight pressed at my side. Heavy but not too heavy, warm. I look down with just my eyes, not moving the head cause I was scared I might see too much. The blanket rise and fall tiny with breath. Someone—something—already in the bed, tucked tight against me.

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I don’t remember when she came in earlier. Maybe I forgot? Maybe she sneak in? My brain spun like a broken wheel. Still, the shadow girl by the door not moving, waiting, her face too pale in dark.

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I whispered, almost nothing sound, “Then who…” but my lips stop. Cause the thing under blanket open its eyes.

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Wide. Not blinking. Just staring at me. And smiling but not smiling right.

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I actually wanted to scream but my throat locked shut. My chest felt like somebody sit on it. I thought maybe I am dreaming but the smell of her hair, the one beside me, it was wrong. Not like my daughter hair smell of soap and dirt from garden. This smell sharp, almost metal.

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I told myself don’t move. Don’t breathe big. Pretend sleeping, maybe it go away. My girl at the door stepped closer. Her lips trembling. She say again, softer, “Mama, I can’t sleep.” But then both voices, same sound, repeat the words together.

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Like two mouths on one song.

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I clutched the sheet hard, fingernails bite my hand. I don’t know which one was mine, or if either was. Maybe none. Maybe the real child already gone long ago, replaced, tricking me each night until tonight when two came at once by mistake.

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The lamp was just reach away but I couldn’t lift my arm. Afraid of what light might show. Afraid that light make everything real and no turning back.

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So I close eyes. Pretend nothing wrong. Pray morning comes fast.

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But the whisper stay, at both sides of me, over and over again.

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“Mama. Mama. Mama.”

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Cc,
@soulfuldreamer