The thunder rumbled loudly outside my window, and I woke startled.
He was sitting at the edge of my bed…right by my stomach almost. How had I not felt the bed shift softly? I’ve always been a light sleeper, nobody sneaks up on me – how odd. Yet, there he was just looking in my eyes from where he sat, with a cynical grin on his face and eyes that burned into my soul and left me exposed.
The room was pitch black for mere seconds, before lighting up like a fluorescent explosion from the lightning outside. I could see his pale skin, sharp features and his black hair neatly combed…slick…almost greasy. His very pronounced widow’s peak reminded me of countless comic book villains I had read about or seen in my books. He was very real though, too real. He wore a simple black turtleneck and unremarkable darker than black pants. He looked to be very tall and slightly sick, malnourished or just plain tired. I saw something glisten and reflect the storm outside my window, the blade of a polished dagger that was sitting in his death-like white hand.
“Who are you? What do you want?” I spat out through dry lips and with a hoarse voice. Only to feel the bed softly shake as he rocked gently with what I presume was laughter. Except, this laugh was a barely audible hiss that made the hair on my arms raise and a chill fill the room. I licked my lips and tried to control my breathing before trying to ask him again, “Who are you?!”. This time he slid closer to me in a movement too fast for me to follow, his face hovering inches from mine. His cool breath bounced off my cheeks and something even cooler pressed firmly under my left breast producing a stab of pain…his dagger. Too terrified to look down, I merely ran my fingers slightly up my stomach to confirm that I was hurt. Keeping my eyes on his, by his will not mine, I felt something warm soaking my nightgown as I approached my wound. My fingertips traced the edge of the blade to find that although I had not been stabbed, the gash under my breast was easily six inches long and bleeding profusely.
Unable to keep calm I squirm under his weight, opening my mouth in a quickly muffled scream as his hard hand pressed against my lips. His fire-lit eyes danced over my facial expressions and stared at me mockingly, enjoying my desperate struggle. His voice was barely a whisper, yet it carried the feeling of dread one gets when walking through a cold, poorly-lit street on an autumn night…leaves rustling, shadows that never materialize, the panic of being followed. “You see now? You cannot escape this, beautiful. Oh…how delightful, she cries!”, he said while giving me a menacing smile and using the bloody blade to flick the tears off my cheek, scraping me in the process. I was losing blood fast and felt my body shaking violently in fear of what was to come. Maybe I would die soon and not see what else he had planned. “Look at my eyes, you…or do I have to cut those pretty souls out of you and teach you a lesson?”, dragging the tip of his dagger around my eyes, almost making the shape of a pair of glasses around them. I cried harder and this time felt my tears stinging the fresh cuts on my face.
He removed his hand from my lips, and something inside me knew to whisper and keep silent. “Please…why are you doing this?” I said in between hiccups and groans of pain. “I’m sorry for whatever I did. I’m sorry. I’m sorry! No! Please…no!” I repeated this time a little louder as I saw him roll his eyes and cover my mouth again forcefully before feeling his blade take a swipe under my left breast this time. Agonizing pain shot through me, a sting felt deep in my chest…warmth trickling down my stomach and onto my arms. “Sorry? You should be!” He laughed loudly this time, as if making use of the loud thunder surrounding us. “But, darling Death, do you know why you’re apologizing? How are you going to learn your lesson if you don’t know what you’ve done wrong, cher?”, he said commanding my eyes to his once again. I screamed loudly into his hand…half in pain and half in frustration trying to conjure a memory that would explain what I had done wrong to deserve this. He leaned even closer, his nose touching mine. He winked at me and said, “Now then, are you ready to really pay for your mistake?”. His voice slowly rustled and got confused with the wind outside…my body feeling cold, heavy. I struggled to keep my eyes on him, to see what was next…
Was I ready?
He was sitting at the edge of my bed…right by my stomach almost. How had I not felt the bed shift softly? I’ve always been a light sleeper, nobody sneaks up on me – how odd. Yet, there he was just looking in my eyes from where he sat, with a cynical grin on his face and eyes that burned into my soul and left me exposed.
The room was pitch black for mere seconds, before lighting up like a fluorescent explosion from the lightning outside. I could see his pale skin, sharp features and his black hair neatly combed…slick…almost greasy. His very pronounced widow’s peak reminded me of countless comic book villains I had read about or seen in my books. He was very real though, too real. He wore a simple black turtleneck and unremarkable darker than black pants. He looked to be very tall and slightly sick, malnourished or just plain tired. I saw something glisten and reflect the storm outside my window, the blade of a polished dagger that was sitting in his death-like white hand.
“Who are you? What do you want?” I spat out through dry lips and with a hoarse voice. Only to feel the bed softly shake as he rocked gently with what I presume was laughter. Except, this laugh was a barely audible hiss that made the hair on my arms raise and a chill fill the room. I licked my lips and tried to control my breathing before trying to ask him again, “Who are you?!”. This time he slid closer to me in a movement too fast for me to follow, his face hovering inches from mine. His cool breath bounced off my cheeks and something even cooler pressed firmly under my left breast producing a stab of pain…his dagger. Too terrified to look down, I merely ran my fingers slightly up my stomach to confirm that I was hurt. Keeping my eyes on his, by his will not mine, I felt something warm soaking my nightgown as I approached my wound. My fingertips traced the edge of the blade to find that although I had not been stabbed, the gash under my breast was easily six inches long and bleeding profusely.
Unable to keep calm I squirm under his weight, opening my mouth in a quickly muffled scream as his hard hand pressed against my lips. His fire-lit eyes danced over my facial expressions and stared at me mockingly, enjoying my desperate struggle. His voice was barely a whisper, yet it carried the feeling of dread one gets when walking through a cold, poorly-lit street on an autumn night…leaves rustling, shadows that never materialize, the panic of being followed. “You see now? You cannot escape this, beautiful. Oh…how delightful, she cries!”, he said while giving me a menacing smile and using the bloody blade to flick the tears off my cheek, scraping me in the process. I was losing blood fast and felt my body shaking violently in fear of what was to come. Maybe I would die soon and not see what else he had planned. “Look at my eyes, you…or do I have to cut those pretty souls out of you and teach you a lesson?”, dragging the tip of his dagger around my eyes, almost making the shape of a pair of glasses around them. I cried harder and this time felt my tears stinging the fresh cuts on my face.
He removed his hand from my lips, and something inside me knew to whisper and keep silent. “Please…why are you doing this?” I said in between hiccups and groans of pain. “I’m sorry for whatever I did. I’m sorry. I’m sorry! No! Please…no!” I repeated this time a little louder as I saw him roll his eyes and cover my mouth again forcefully before feeling his blade take a swipe under my left breast this time. Agonizing pain shot through me, a sting felt deep in my chest…warmth trickling down my stomach and onto my arms. “Sorry? You should be!” He laughed loudly this time, as if making use of the loud thunder surrounding us. “But, darling Death, do you know why you’re apologizing? How are you going to learn your lesson if you don’t know what you’ve done wrong, cher?”, he said commanding my eyes to his once again. I screamed loudly into his hand…half in pain and half in frustration trying to conjure a memory that would explain what I had done wrong to deserve this. He leaned even closer, his nose touching mine. He winked at me and said, “Now then, are you ready to really pay for your mistake?”. His voice slowly rustled and got confused with the wind outside…my body feeling cold, heavy. I struggled to keep my eyes on him, to see what was next…
Was I ready?
It’s the last thought I gain from my sleep last night. I find myself sitting up straight on my bed, alarm blasting…heart pounding. What the hell was that?!
"I had a dream that you were with me, and it wasn't my fault. You rolled me over, flipped me over like a somersault." - My Never, Blue October
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