Whitney Strand tossed and turned in bed next to her husband, Andrew. They should have been here by now. She turned and laid on her back staring at the ceiling. It had never been on her time if she was honest, always on their, but she felt she was entitled to feel a little impatient.
Every 28 days or so, since Whitney had turned 18, the visitors arrived to steal her away. Whether she was in college, in her own apartment, or staying over at someone else’s place, they’d appear at her bedside, staring with their huge, soulless eyes.
But was this it? After 8 years was it over? They had missed last month, if they missed again that would confirm it in her mind, they were done with her. Whitney dug her fingers into the mattress and waited, either for the visitors or sleep, whichever came first.