I woke with a start. My heart was beating furiously in my chest, and I was covered in cold sweat. I remembered seeing a face, but I was sure who he was or why he was asking for help.
Please God, someone help me!
“What the hell is happening?” I said out loud, despite being alone.
Where are you, Stanley?
“Dad?” I called, finally recognizing the voice. “Where are you?”
It- it hurts, Stanley.
The voice sounded like it was in my head. I pulled my phone from the night stand and dialed my father’s number with shaking hands.
I put the phone to my ear as I quickly walked to the closet, grabbing clothes with my free hand as I struggled to get changed. The voicemail picked up, only increasing my anxiety. I ran out of the house, grabbing my car keys on the way, and jumped into my car.
I sped the entire way to my father’s house, arriving in sheer terror when I saw that his paper was still on the porch. He never left the paper out. I dialed 9-1-1 on my phone as I tried the front door, which I found locked.
As I told the operator on the phone what was happening I also tried the doorbell a few times and eventually decided to kick in the door. It took me a few tries, but the door did give under the strain ultimately granting me access to the house.
Help me, Stanley!
“I’m coming, Dad!” I yelled as I ran up the stairs.
I froze at the top of the stairs as a strange person came out of one of the bedrooms in pajamas holding a gun pointed at me. “What the hell are you doing in my house?”
As the alarm in the house sounded, I could barely make out the sound of the sirens already close to the house. Everything that had happened since I woke up suddenly came crashing into my mind.
My father needed help, and he was in pain. I had rushed over to his old house, called the paramedics, kicked in the door, and scared the new owners.
“I don’t know anymore. I’m sorry.” I said lifting my hands above me.
There was a sudden spike of pain that felt like my skull was splitting and my legs caved under me.