The day wore on. Troubled by the conversation with her husband, Robin knew staying busy was her best option for keeping her mind off of things. So she continued with her laundry chores. Standing in the basement at the long table with towels scattered about, she listened to the music playing on her phone. Suddenly, the music faded out and then stopped. She grabbed the device and shook it. “Damn,” she whispered. She assumed the battery went dead.
Quickly, the room temperature dropped and the hair on her arms and neck stood up as the goose bumps peppered her skin. The fog from her lungs expelled from her mouth. She realized she was seeing her breath. An invisible strength wrapped around her neck unexpectedly and the gasps for air were futile. Terrified, she clutched her throat trying to remove whatever was choking her. Coughing and panting, the tears began falling down her face. Her feet felt as if they were lifting from the ground and the grip around her neck worsened. Unable to scream or even speak, she realized the urgency of the moment.
Finally, she felt the release and bent over the table trying desperately to catch her breath. When her ability to speak returned, she screamed for Matt and heard him running through the house. The basement door swung open so hard it shook the drywall at the top of the stairs. He thundered toward her as she continued resting her elbows and torso on the laundry table.
“Robin!” he shouted.
She still struggled to breathe. “I felt like I was being hung.”
“Yes. My music on my phone completely stopped and the next thing I knew the room got cold. I felt like something was hanging me. I felt my feet lift off of the ground,” she cried.
She stood up and dropped into Matt’s chest, sobbing uncontrollably.
“I’m here now,” he said softly as he caressed her hair. “It’s okay. I’m here.”