Under the Mattress by Susie Field

   “You can’t put a price on a good night’s sleep.” The salesman smiles flashing a row of gleaming white teeth. He probably uses the same phrase every time he sells one of these expensive beds, but I suppose it’s true, and I am taking rather a long time to make up my mind. 

   I know I want a double bed and I’ve chosen the headboard in a neutral shade, in case I change the décor in my bedroom, and I’ve eventually decided on a mattress after testing hundreds, well not that many obviously, but quite a few. My problem at the moment is deciding whether to have drawers at the sides or at the bottom of the bed.

   He’s beginning to lose patience. He’s trying not to but he’s looked at his watch three times and now he’s stifling a yawn. I don’t care. It’s an important decision, not to mention a lot of money, and I will not be rushed.

   “The thing is,” he continues through gritted teeth. “How much room do you have at the bottom of the bed? You’ll need enough space to open the drawers comfortably.”

   “I’m not sure.”

   “Well how about at the side of the bed? Both sides or just one?”

   “It’s not a very big bedroom so there isn’t a lot of room. Maybe I shouldn’t go for a divan.”

   He sighs dramatically. “You said you wanted storage space, madam.”

   “Yes, I do really. It’s so difficult.”

   It’s getting dark outside and I notice all the other customers have left. 

   “Perhaps I should come back tomorrow with my husband.” I give him my best smile but he’s having none of it. I’ve wasted his afternoon and he’s going to sell me a bed come what may.

   “I could have the very thing.  Come this way.”

   I follow him to the far end of the showroom, wishing I could make my escape.

   “Here we are,” he says with a flourish. “Plenty of storage in this little beauty.”

   I watch as he lifts the mattress and base to reveal an enormous storage compartment. 

   “Oh yes, it looks very nice.” I hesitate and he’s waiting. “It’s just that it may be a little heavy for me to lift.”

   He demonstrates how easy the whole procedure is and I have a go. 

   “I’m not sure, I’m afraid.” My arms are already aching from the whole procedure.

   I can tell he’s holding his breath thinking I’m inventing another excuse. I’m still peering into the depths of the storage compartment, afraid to meet his eye, when he pushes me hard and I fall. Feeling dazed I turn onto my back, blood dripping from a cut on my head. He’s staring down at me. His black eyes deep in their sockets. He smiles, exposing brown rotten teeth. The stench is unbearable. He licks his pale lips.  

   The showroom is now in darkness, but I can see the figures lurking in the shadows. They approach slowly. I cannot move. I’m trapped.