This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/Weird-Suggestion-152 on 2024-10-30 19:28:16+00:00.

I remember the accident like it was yesterday. Unlike many people who say they can’t recall their crashes; I remember every detail of that day. It was winter, and the sun was setting early in the evening. I had gotten off work late; the daylight was now long gone and rain was coming down, making the roads slick, and visibility poor. I was driving my usual route home, thinking about what to pick up for dinner, when it happened. An oncoming truck suddenly swerved into my lane and came straight for me, head-on. In that brief moment, I felt a rush of terror, and a millisecond of clear understanding that I was about to die. Then, everything went black.

I woke up in a hospital room. I heard the beeping of the machines first, followed by the smell of antiseptic. I slowly began to open my eyes to the blinding of fluorescent lights. I heard a machine begin to beep faster, as confusion and panic began to wash over me.

“Woah, easy there”, I heard a voice say.

“You’ve been in an accident. You’re in the hospital, and you’re safe now.”

For a moment, I saw a face next to me. Pretty, and comforting. That was my last thought, before everything went black again.

I’m not sure how much time passed before I woke up again. Feeling more alert this time, I looked around the room, getting a bearing on my surroundings. I knew based on the number of monitors and IVs hooked up to me that I must have been in bad shape. As I blinked against the brightness, a nurse entered, a beacon of warmth in the cold, clinical environment. She had an air of calm that made me feel immediately safe amidst the chaos.

“Hello again, I’m Lily,” she said, her smile softening the edges of my fear. “You passed out before I could introduce myself last time. I’m one of your nurses.” Her kindness radiated as she checked my vitals, her gentle touch igniting a flicker of comfort in me. Day by day, she became my anchor, the one constant in a world that felt hopeless.

As the days stretched into weeks, our conversations grew more personal. I found myself sharing bits of my life, my dreams, and fears, revealing the vulnerable pieces of myself that I rarely showed. Lily listened, her eyes sparkling with empathy, her laughter soothing. I realized I was falling for her, hard.  Her presence in my recovery brightened my days and made me forget the pain.

The more time we spent together, the more I felt a sense of normalcy return to my life. During a particularly quiet evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting my hospital room in hues of orange and pink, I knew I had fallen in love with her. She had just finished her shift and came to check on me before leaving. Her hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail, the tiredness in her eyes overshadowed by the warmth of her smile.

Feeling bold, I asked “So, when I get out of here, can I take you to dinner?”

She smiled, leaning against the doorframe. “Yes, I’d love that”, her face blushing.

In that moment, I felt a connection between us, something electric that pulsed in the air.

After another couple weeks of healing, I was finally discharged. I sat outside the hospital, the sun warming my skin, a stark contrast to the cold sterility I had grown accustomed to. I kept my word to Lily, taking her out for dinner a few days later. And the rest, as they say, was history.

We began to explore the possibility of a life together. We found the perfect little house on the outskirts of town; its white picket fence a picture of domestic bliss. It felt like a dream. The house was modest, but was a fresh start, a blank canvas on which we could build our lives together. We spent countless hours painting the walls, arranging furniture, and filling the space with our personalities.

As we settled into our new life, I couldn’t have been happier. Lily was everything I had ever wanted, kind, intelligent, and fiercely supportive. It was as if the universe had conspired to bring us together, and for the first time in a long while, I felt a sense of belonging. I felt thankful for the crash that brought her to me.

Months passed, and we only grew closer. We shared dreams of starting a family and growing old together in that cozy little home. We’d sit on the porch, watching the sunset, discussing our plans and laughing at inside jokes. But over time, something started to change in that house. Something started to change in Lily.

It started as small things. Objects would get misplaced; the trashcan would be knocked over. Lily and I would tease each other for being forgetful, each of us assuming it was the other.  But then things began to happen that I knew couldn’t have been her.

One night, while cooking dinner, I got the milk out of the refrigerator, and set it on the counter. When I turned back around, it was gone, back in the refrigerator. Doors would creak open, the TV would change channels by itself. I began to feel uneasy in the house, like I was being watched. One night, while sitting on the couch, I brought the topic up to Lily.

“Do you ever feel… strange in this house? Like you’re being watched?” I asked.

“No, not at all… are you being serious?” She replied.

“Oh come-on, you mean to tell me you’ve never thought it’s weird that things move around on their own all the time, how our stuff always gets misplaced? You’ve never heard the doors opening and shutting by themselves?” I said.

“Hallucinations are normal after a bad injury. Maybe we need to go get you checked out”. Lily said.

Her dismissiveness touched my nerves. “I’m not hallucina – “

“I think you should just let it go” she interrupted.

Her cold response caught me off guard, and for the first time, I felt a rift between us.

That night, I laid in bed, staring up at the ceiling, replaying the conversation I’d had with Lily earlier. It wasn’t even a real fight, but it lingered in my mind. Lately, it had started to feel like we were both on edge, with something unspoken weighing between us. And it wasn’t just that conversation; it was everything in this house. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong, that I was being watched, even now. I closed my eyes, willing myself to ignore the sense of dread, trying to drift off. But just as I felt myself slipping toward sleep, I heard it. A voice, close and quiet, whispering my name. “David”. It wasn’t Lily’s voice. It was urgent, almost pleading, as though someone was right there in the room with me, waiting for me to respond.

I jolted upright, heart pounding as I looked around the room, trying to find the source of the whisper. I strained my ears, waiting to hear it again. But there was nothing, just the sound of my own heavy breathing. I turned and saw Lily beside me, fast asleep, her breathing slow and steady. She looked peaceful, completely undisturbed. I tried to tell myself I’d imagined it, just a product of my own frayed nerves and lack of sleep. But as I lay back down, I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone had been there, close enough to whisper right into my ear.

I woke up the next morning, more on edge than ever after my experience the night before. But Lily was in good spirits, and her kind and fun personality was contagious, bringing me out of my slump. And for the next few days, things seemed to settle down. No strange noises, no objects moving, just quiet nights and a gradual return to normalcy. I started to feel more like myself, and I wondered if maybe it had all been my imagination. Stress from moving, adjusting to a new life together, recovering after my injuries, nothing more. We’d started laughing together again, our conversations and routines falling back into place.

The strangeness of the house all but completely left my mind, when one afternoon, I was in the shower. I heard the bathroom door slowly open, and I could hear someone come in, their footsteps quiet but distinct. Through the steamy curtain, I could see the shadow of a figure approaching the shower and standing right outside, just lingering there. I waited for a second, waiting to hear Lily speak or open the curtain, but the figure just stood outside of the shower. I grinned, calling out to Lily, “Oh, coming to join me, huh?”

I opened the curtain to peek, only to find no one was there. The door was closed, as if no one had entered at all.

A chill crawled up my spine. I jumped out of the shower, quickly wrapping myself in a towel, and hurried into the living room. I found Lily on the couch, casually watching TV, completely at ease. “Oh yeah, very funny,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

She glanced up, confused. “What are you talking about?”

“Coming into the bathroom while I was in the shower,” I said, feeling a prickle of annoyance. “Were you just standing there to freak me out?”

Lily’s face hardened. “I didn’t go in there, David. And honestly, this… this stuff you keep bringing up? The whispers, stuff moving… It’s getting old.”

“Old? You think I’m making it up?”

“Yes! I don’t know what’s going on with you, but you need to let all this go. None of it is real. Just let it go and focus on us, on our life together. I’m sick of hearing about it.”

Her reaction stung. I hadn’t seen her that frustrated before, and as we argued, a tension settled between us. It was our first real argument, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that something much deeper was happening.

That night, after lying awake, I finally drifted off to sleep, hoping things would settle in the morning. I finally f…

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