What Happened?

Silvia shrieked and scrambled out of the bed, clutching the bedspread tightly around her like a shield. Nearly tumbling off in her haste to get away. “Dad?!” she blurted, her voice sharp and panicked.

James seized up, his breath catching in his throat as his mind scrambled to make sense of the scene before him. Silvia — his daughter — stood at the edge of the bed, her dark hair disheveled, her face twisted in confusion and alarm. James raised his hands in a frantic attempt to explain. “I — Silvia, I thought — I didn’t know — what are you doing here?!”

“What am I doing here?” Silvia snapped, her voice trembling as much as her hands. “What are you doing in my bed?”

James blinked, his heart still hammering. “Your bed? This is —” He turned to look around, his eyes darting over the still unfamiliar furniture, the muted colors, the stack of moving boxes next to the wall. This was the master bedroom. It was his bed, where he was supposed to sleep with his wife.

“Oh, God,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know how we got here.”

Only when he noticed Silvia's shocked expression, her gaze locked onto his crotch, he realized that was completely uncovered, naked, sporting a massive morning wood. He blushed, grabbed a pillow and pressed it against his center to regain a modicum of modesty.

“I swear, Silvia,” James stammered, his face a mask of **** innocence. “I'm sure I went to bed last night with your mother. Then you and me woke up here together. I have no idea —” He stopped, a cold chill running down his spine. What happened?

“You thought I was Mom? Are you out of your mind?!”

“I didn’t know!” James shouted, his face pale as the realization of the situation settled over him. The telltale stains on the sheet left no doubt as to what they had both done that night. But he tried to ignore them so as not to add to his daughter's panic.

Silvia glared at him, her breathing shallow. “You don’t know? That’s the best you’ve got?”

She turned on her heel and marched out of the room, her back straight, the blanket clutched tightly to her. He could hear her muffled sobs and it broke his heart.

He was frantically searching for words that would have comforted her. But what could he have possibly said in such a devastating circumstance? He was about to rise and follow her, when a cold chill ran down his spine. “It’s her,” he whispered to himself.

A soft, musical laugh echoed through the room, cutting him off. James froze, his eyes darting around to find the source of the sound.

“Oh, don’t stop on my account,” Margot’s voice purred, seemingly coming from everywhere and nowhere at once. “You are so entertaining.”

“Show yourself!” James shouted, his fists clenched.

The laugh came again, lighter this time, as if she were genuinely amused. “Oh, James,” Margot said, her tone dripping with mockery, “you already know I don’t play by your rules. But don’t worry ... I’m always watching.”

James gritted his teeth, glaring at the room as if daring Margot to materialize. “Leave us alone,” he growled.

“Oh, but where’s the fun in that?” Margot’s tone dripped with amusement. “Besides, James... you’re quite the entertaining plaything."

“What do you want from us?” he demanded.

The air became still and heavy, as if the room itself were holding its breath. Then Margot's laughter returned, growing fainter as if she were moving quickly away.

James sat there, shaken and unnerved.