David jerks awake. He quickly looks about the partial darkness of his bedroom. Deborah, his wife, draws closer from the right, wrapping her arms around him, and snuggling her face against his neck.

“Sorry. Sorry–” David groggily stammers an apology. “I didn't mean to wake you, sweetheart. It was just a bad dream.”

Deborah hugs him tighter.

“It was the craziest thing.” He continues. “The nightmare was about this birthday party I went to when I was like 12. It was at my best friend's Dan's house. Me, him, and a few other kids played Bloody Mary in his parents' bathroom. I haven't thought about that in forever. I remember us having fun. But in the nightmare, we were being chased–” He sighs catching himself. “Sorry, I'm rambling, I know you're trying–”

“Honey,” Deborah asks curiously from across the room. “Who are you talking to?”

David quickly looks over to discover his wife returning to the room with a glass of water. The icy dread coursing down his spine is not nearly as cold, as the skin of the woman now tightening her grip on him. The bedroom door violently slams shut in Deborah's face. She is frightened, but hearing the terrified screams of her husband, triggers the fight or flight instinct.

Deborah finally forces the door open but finds the room empty.