My Body is a Cage and Other Stories

“I don’t know, honey,” her mother says, “I’ve never had an experience like that. Sleep
paralysis demons don’t usually communicate. I lookedit up.”
“I don’t know what to do. What if it comes back?What does it want?”
“If it’s just plain old sleep paralysis it doesn’twant anything. It’s a figment of your
subconscious. But if it's ademondemon, you neverknow. I should have baptised you as a baby.”
Eileen dips her finger in the pool of grease on herpizza slice, puts polka dots on her
napkin with it. “We’re not even Christian.”
Her mother shrugs. “Try melatonin. It shouldn’t interferewith the Prozac.”
Before they part, Eileen gives her mom a tight huglike if she holds on forever nothing
bad will happen. But she can’t hold on forever becauseher shift begins at five.
When she asks her manager for her meal break he tellsher the store is too busy, and when
she asks again later he says it’s too late. As sheplucks shoes off the floor in the women’s
department she thinks about quitting, but she can’tquit because she needs the money. She will
always need money. She will have to exist for therest of her life, needing money. This is the kind
of train of thought that makes her ponder her owndeath. She lines up twenty dollar stilettos and
knock-off converses on the cool white metal shoe rack,and wonders if the spider man would
follow her into the afterlife, or if it really isjust her subconscious causing hallucinations because
her REM sleep cycle is fucked up
She and her roommate watch that show they’ve beenwatching while eating takeout,
Eileen manages to do a little German homework, andthen she pops a melatonin and settles for
bed.
It turns out sleep paralysis demons are immune tomelatonin because it’s there again.
However, it doesn’t claw its way across the popcornceiling towards her, but stays in its corner.