Somnambulism

Upon moving in, the new house mate warned me that she sometimes  sleepwalked. She told me it was nothing to worry about & that should never wake her up when it happened. She was beautiful, funny & we flirted & enjoyed great conversations, watched tons of shows on box sets (before Netflix)

3 months later we were a couple. Her suppposed somnambulism had never been an issue. We still had separate bedrooms as she wasn't great with intimacy but I thought little of it.

There was just one thing that was beginning to annoy me; she would randomly leave the kitchen knives out of the block. I like to cook so my knives were of professional quality that I'd brought back from Japan. It was odd that she respected everything else in the house when she knew they weren't run of the mill knives.

I'd find them left in the lounge, on the floor in the hall & even once in the bathroom.

After finding my damascus steel Japanese Chef's knife on the driveway one day I asked her what the hell she was doing.
She bit her lip & looked down at her feet. Forlorn & ashamed she simply said, "Not again, not now..."
"Just put them back in the block, it's not difficult"
"I'm so sorry. It's happening again." I didn't have time to press her or I would soon be running late for work & I had to get across the Thames at rush hour.

When I got home that day the house was lovely & clean & she'd cooked my  favourite meal. She apologised for the knives, we ate, shared a bottle of red & went to bed.

The next morning was my day off & I cleaned up from the night before. In the kitchen I was surprised to find that the knives were gone. Afternoon came & over coffee I asked her where the knives were. She got up, showed me where they were, then reached out & said my name & in an ominous tone she explained that I must put them somewhere where she didn't know about. She looked close to tears & she confided in me that she feared she was moving the knives at night, whilst sleepwalking.

"For fuck sake, are you being serious here? You think you're picking up knives & wandering around with them & you have no knowledge of it?"

"It's nothing to worry about. It's happened before with nice things. It's not that they're knives, it's that they're high quality & hand made." She said, attempting to reassure me.

"It's a bit fucking weird, you know. Why would you pick up something so dangerous?"

"I don't know. I don't know why but it's not just the knives. Look... I woke up one morning holding one of your nice watches. I had to come back into your room & put it back before you got up."

In the end I did move the knives & the incidents stopped. We went back to normal. We watched shows. Worked. Slept. Made love. All the usual stuff.

Another week passed. Normality returned until we had a minor argument because I'd put the knives back in the kitchen. She was vociferous on the issue & made me put the lm back somwhere unbeknownst to her.

I woke from my sleep being punched in the chest repeatedly. I grappled with my assailant & stopped her raining down hammer fists on my chest... She screamed hysterically when she woke up. Her hands were slippy as I restrained her. It was blood. I looked down at my chest. It was my blood. The wound wasn't deep. Just superficial scratches. I forced her hand open as she began to repeat over & over,
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! It's not me!  It's not me!"

In her hand the metal was immediately familiar to me. One of my 'nice' Swiss watches

Amadeus Hellequin

Instagram: SpartanBuddha