The Lies He Told | PSYCHOLOGICAL THRILLER ROMANCE |

CHAPTER FOUR

Sleep paralysis puts recurring nightmares to shame. I thought the gothic revival mansion with stone clocktower overshadowed the impending doom of tactile hallucinations, but wide-eyed paralysis is a whole new ball game.

I had awakened in the middle of the night with no movement, yet I could see and hear everything around me.

My husband was asleep on the bed beside me, one hand on his abdomen, his chest rising up and down, his breathing controlled yet ragged.

I had an eerie sense that someone was watching me, and when I glanced at the door, which had somehow opened during the night, I noticed a shadowy figure in the hallway, just staring at me in the dark, unmoving and voiceless.

Hell, if I did not scream the bloody house down. But my cry for help got trapped inside my lifeless body. I could not breathe, think clearly or ask for help.

Nothing happened.

Paralysed. Terrified. Mute.

And Daniel was completely oblivious.

Then, suddenly, the shadow dispersed along with my frantic heartbeat, and the invisible force restraining my body to the bed let go of its tight grip and allowed me to move once more.

The second I had freedom, I bolted upright, the duvet falling to my waist. I know it was her, the water nymph. I somehow recognised the smell of her blood, her tragic death and her rancid breath, and I could not fathom why she would visit my private home and frighten me whilst my husband lay peacefully to my right.

I have been awake ever since.

Presently, I am preoccupied with thoughts of the water nymph. Today would be the day that I looked for answers. My husband is due to leave for work (I assured him last night that normalcy is in our best interest), so I can get the laptop out and do some digging. Not sure what I hoped to find, but I had to start somewhere because I cannot go on like this, sleepless nights, ghosts or hallucinations. I needed a breakthrough.

Daniel re-emerged from the en-suite bathroom, steam in his midst, a towel knotted around his waist. He busied himself inside the walk-in wardrobe whilst I lazed about in bed, drenched in sweat and on the brink of institutionalisation.

"Olivia?" Daniel held up two ties, one red and one blue, and I pointed to the blue one. "Are you okay?" His concern for others never failed to melt my heart. "You don't look so good."

"I am fine." My head hurt, though. I should probably swallow a paracetamol or two. "You look nice."

"Thank you. Are you sure about this?" In a sophisticated, self-assured and charming manner, Daniel marvelled at his appearance in the long-standing mirror, tying a knot of a dark blue tie with Ermenegildo Zegna emblazoned across its silk material. "If you are unsure, for any reason, I can stay home and generate new business from the office." He straightened the collar of his crisp white shirt. "I quite enjoy telecommuting solutions."

I smiled at him.

"Furthermore, I have an incredibly organised personal assistant who provides an inexhaustible supply of coffee." He winked at me. "It helps that she is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen."

My husband is a coffee aficionado; therefore, I specialise in serving strong beverages and toasted sandwiches—anything to keep a smile on his face.

I am also a detail-oriented homemaker who spends all day cleaning a spotless property for the sake of staying busy.

Imagine if I wanted to work for a living. An employer would ask for my resume, a generic template of how I lacked relevant skills and professional qualifications. But, hey? I can get a job at Starbucks, so that's something.