Free Insomnia by J. R. Johansson Page A

detail was as clear as a memory but there were few items that overlapped. The same stack of coasters filled five separate places on the oak end-table. The game show had different contestants every time I looked at it but each was equally vivid. It was like several memories overlapping each other.
    The front door opened and a thick man in a shirt and tie came into the living room. The emotion coming from Agnes shifted so fast I felt dizzy. Pure fear filled my body from my toes to my eyebrows, and I regretted the single violent thought I’d had against her. The sounds of the children down the hall silenced and I heard a door shut.
    “Hi, dear.” Agnes hid the feather duster behind her back. From my position, I could see the feathers twitching as her hands trembled.
    He grunted and plopped into the recliner closest to the TV.
    Agnes handed him the remote and put the feather duster in the closet. Within seconds she was back with a beer from the fridge.
    He grabbed it and nodded without even a glance in her direction. “What’s for dinner?”
    “Meatloaf,” she answered, backing toward the kitchen. “It will be ready in a few minutes.”
    Her fear was still there but she seemed to be feeling more confident. I slumped onto the carpet and leaned against the wood paneling on the wall. She might feel better but I didn’t. There was no question that he’d hit her before; it was impossible to miss the signs.
    Agnes set the table and called for the kids to come to the kitchen. Two blond children came down the hall. The little boy was quieter than any child I’d ever seen. He couldn’t have been more than five years old. His sister was maybe a year or two older, and she kept moving back and forth in front of her brother. It took me a moment to realize she was placing herself between her brother and her dad.
    The kids sat at the table and Agnes brought a plate to her husband in his recliner. The family ate in silence. Everyone at the table stared at their plates. Agnes reached over to refill the milk in her son’s cup. He lifted it but lost his grip. The glass fell to the table as if in slow motion.
    Panic shot through the room like a lightning bolt. The little girl was back from the kitchen with a towel before I could blink. The boy stared in horror at the glass, but he didn’t make a sound as his eyes brimmed with tears.
    Agnes hurried to clean it up, but the moment her husband glanced back at her, she sent the kids to their room. I could hear their soft sniffles coming down the hallway as she continued to wipe up the mess with shaking fingers.
    “I’m sorry, Ray.”
    He sighed and pushed pause on his DVR remote. When he stood, I stepped in his way. I didn’t want to see this. Please, no more.
    But he was an aspect of the dream, and I was just a Watcher. He walked right through me and I felt nothing. I knelt on the floor, helpless, wishing I’d met the eyes of anyone but this poor woman.
    “All I ask is that things be clean.” His voice rumbled low and her fear spiked as she backed away from him. He grabbed her shoulder and shoved her against the wall. I watched her shrink to the floor. My arm exploded with her pain, but I didn’t move or flinch. She didn’t cry out, I would be strong with her, for her … even if she didn’t know I was there.
    “I know. It was an accident. I’m so sorry.”
    He reached under her chin, grabbed her throat, and lifted her to her feet. “Don’t you want me to be happy?”
    She nodded, gasping for air, and he threw her back to the ground. Everything ached. We gasped in air in unison, and I felt the will to fight seep out of my body, the same way it had fled from Agnes.
    “Don’t do it again.” He walked back to his recliner and pushed play on the remote.
    Agnes whispered, “I won’t.” Wiping tears from her cheeks, she got unsteadily to her feet. There was a cut on the top of her ear that was bleeding, and I could see the red outline of her husband’s hand against her throat.