Space Invaders

It all started with the faint sound of clicking.
Like someone tapping the roof of their mouth with their tongue.
Click Click
Aimee rolled over, the freshly washed sheets crunching and the pillow cool and inviting. “Urgh…” she thought, pulling the pillow over her head, only allowing enough space to steal a glance at the red glowing digits on her side table. 10 pm. She took a pair of earplugs from her top drawer and squished them into her ears.
Night shift tomorrow.

***

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“Morning, love,” Steve said, standing over a sizzling pan of fried eggs. Aimee yawned so wide she thought her jaw would dislocate.
“Morning Steve.” He put her favourite mug in front of her, the one with the space invaders print. Steam billowed from the almost black brew. “Oh, I think I’m in love,” she said, inhaling half of the drink in one gulp.
“With me or the coffee?” Steve laughed.
“…How do you feel about polygamy?”
Steve leaned over the counter and gently pecked her cheek. “Favourable.”
Aimee loved his kisses. They were light and soft, like the soft fluttering of butterfly wings. Bzzt! Bzzt! Aimee’s phone lit up, vibrating dangerously close to the edge of the counter.
“Gotta go,” she said as she chugged the last of her coffee.
“Have a good day. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Steve curled his lip into an exaggerated pout and made whining noises like a puppy.
“Very funny – earplugs are in my top drawer if you need them. I think we have a hedgehog infestation, or something. They made clicking noises all night — sounded like it was coming from the far side of the garden. Didn’t you hear it?”
Steve had always been a heavy sleeper.
“I’m sure it’s nothing. I’ll have a look tonight before you get home.” Steve slid his eggs from the pan and onto a plate. “Do hedgehogs even make clicking noises?”

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***

​

Steve cringed as he got into bed. It always felt arctic without Aimee. Night shifts were a cruel form of torture. He rolled over, deeply inhaling the scent of her left on her pillow.
Click Click
Steve groaned and looked at the clock — midnight. “It really does sound like it’s on the far side of the garden,” he thought, stifling a yawn. “I’ll check it out tomorrow.”
Click Click
Steve woke with a start — 3am. “That was definitely louder…” Steve threw back the covers and tiptoed to the window, thankful for the plush carpet under his bare feet.
Click Click
He tore the curtains open, eyes darting from the garden lining their windowsill, to the patio, to the far garden. Nothing. Steve pressed his ear to the window, the chill of the glass numbing his skin. No clicking. The curtain eyelets screeched when Steve pulled them shut again and shambled back to bed.

CLICK CLICK

Steve whipped his head back to the window, his heart beating fast. Shadows stained the curtains, taller than the top of the architrave, with skeletal arms and unnaturally long fingers. Steve held his ears as the clicking increased in volume and frequency until it deafened him, piercing him like the high-pitched humming of static. Steve’s head spun. He tasted iron — blood gushing from his nose. He stumbled to the window and pulled the curtains from their tracks. He could barely hear his own screams over the ear-splitting and inescapable clicking.

​

***

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Aimee closed the entry door as quietly as possible, her keys jingling when she placed them in their home on the ceramic tray by the entry door. She threw her jacket over the couch along with her handbag. 4.30 am.
“A little late,” she thought, knowing it wouldn’t make much difference to a sleeping Steve. Her eyebrows furrowed at the sight of the patio light blaring and the glass sliding door being unlocked and half open.
“Steve?” Aimee cautiously went outside, hoping Steve was just having an early-morning smoke. He was standing in the middle of the garden, staring up into the stars, his bare feet caked with mud and arms hanging limply at his side.
“Steve?” Aimee said, putting a hand on his shoulder and forcing his head down to look at her. “What are you doing out here?” Red staining under his nose suggested a nosebleed. “Are you alright?”
He looked deathly pale, and his eyes were dark with not a single spark of life. Aimee wiped the blood from his nose with her handkerchief.
“Let’s get you back to bed. You must be freezing!” She ushered him back inside, not caring about his muddy feet. She could always wash the sheets tomorrow.
“If you still don’t feel right tomorrow, we’ll go to the doctor, okay?” she said, tucking him into bed before snuggling into her place on the right-hand side, turning the side lamp off and cloaking them in darkness.
“I love you,” she said, kissing his hand. 
She could feel the weight of his arms around her, his usually warm hands glacial. He squeezed her tight, almost too tight, as she waited for his reply. But it wasn’t his usual “I love you, too.” It wasn’t even anything resembling words.
“Click Click, Click.”