Chapter 9: Terror in Sleep

But as soon as she agreed, everything changed. Her dreams became gloomy and terrifying. She often dreamed of a funeral parlor with a memorial photo, a coffin buried in a pit, and a ghastly white tombstone. Whenever she tried to run, the man would follow her like a shadow.

The way Megan described it, the air in those dreams would get thick—like she was wading through mud. Sometimes, she’d wake up with the echo of that man’s voice ringing in her ears.

“Didn’t you promise to be with me? Why don’t you come find me? You can’t escape, I’m waiting for you…”

Megan became more and more afraid to sleep. When she did, she fell into nightmares, waking up screaming, her nerves stretched to the breaking point.

Lisa showed me the scratch marks on Megan’s arms—reminders of nights spent fighting off something only she could see. I didn’t have to ask if they’d tried therapy.