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Ryan's DeceitCLICK-CLACK, CLICK-CLACK, click-clack, click-clack … I throw the pillow over my head, blocking sounds of footsteps downstairs. A muted click-clack continues outside. I remove the pillow, turn sideways and try to go back to sleep. Pressing my face into the pillow, a hint of mulled-wine, maybe cloves, fill my senses. A chill taps my back like fingers down my spine. Swiftly, I turn my head, lift my nose in the air, and sniff the pungent odor hovering and falling around me. It's everywhere, even on my skin and clothing. I lower my nose toward the pillow and sheets. The sharp scent fades faint and stale like old blankets stored in antique trunks.
For days, the scent has grown stronger, and so have my anxiety attacks. Several instances of the strange aura arise. Ryan's visit at
