When I opened my eyes, I immediately knew something was wrong.
My chest felt heavy like a large stone was placed upon it, preventing me from moving, breathing, or screaming.
I tried to move, tried to make even a finger or toe twitch, but found that I couldn't move a single muscle.
But all I could do was lay there helplessly, unable to move even a single inch, and I was forced to lie totally still as I listened to the echoing silence of the room around me.
Eventually, though, I realized that I was still somehow able to see the room around me, still able to move my vision in an unnatural way that allowed me to see all over my room that, in the dark, were only blurry figures and shapes.
Up, down, left, right, forward, and back, my gaze danced across my room, able to see only hazy outlines of all the furniture through the darkness of my room.
As well as the dark figure that lay beside me in bed, staring at me with an intensity that I just can’t find the words to describe.
I felt everything inside me stop as I saw the figure from my thoughts to the very movement of my blood, all of it ceased when I saw the figure; a figure that made me feel as if the world around me fell away, the moment we locked our eyes.
It had shining yellow eyes, filled with malice, ones that looked at me gleefully as they slowly looked up and down my prone form over and over, with an intensity that felt like they were staring into my very soul. Its body was completely bare, pale modesty barely saved by its long dark hair and patches of mud that littered a feminine-looking body.
“Oh, how interesting,” the figure says simply, their eyes unwaveringly trained on my form, “You really are so interesting.” They breathe as I whimper before I slam my eyes shut and begin reciting every prayer I knew, starting with the daily bread in hopes of driving off what I perceived to be a demon.
But alas, it was for naught, because as I mentally reached the part where I beseeched the Lord’s kingdom to come.
“How cute,” the figure coos, leaning forward to pat my arm condescendingly, making me shudder as I feel a wet sensation in my arm, forcing me to clench my eyes tighter as I tried to soldier on with my mental prayer, wincing as I stuttered over declaring the glory of the Lord’s kingdom.
“You’re praying to him,” they sneer with derision in their voice before their tone transitions into something so overly pleasant that it sent chills down my spine as they lean in close to whisper in my ear, “But let me tell you something, ****.”
“God. Isn’t. Listening.” they breathe before letting out a giggle as my prayer halts in its tracks, “He was never listening, never has, and never will.”
“So stop your praying; it won’t do you any good.” they coo as I desperately begin to mentally recite the apostle’s creed before flagging as the succeeding portions of my prayer never came to mind, the words falling through some sort of mental gap like sand through open fingers, causing me to halt mid-sentence as all thoughts wash away in my mind.
The figure laughed mockingly at this, filling me with despair as I desperately tried to dig deep into my memory to find the words for prayer, any sort of prayer at all, only to sink as my mind failed to come up with anything.
“See? Nothing,” they sneer as I attempt to trash and yell, mentally begging for someone to save me, only to cry internally as the words failed to even form in my throat.
Despite this, however, it did not stop me from trying to move, trying to get away from the figure that had draped itself over my body, further weighing me down and choking me as it restricted the expansion of my chest.
As the air began leaving my lungs due to the weight of the figure on my chest, I desperately begged the figure to get off me, to leave me alone, to not hurt me, over and over, repeated in a mantra that would echo in my head for days.
But the manta would never be able to compare to the words the figure spoke, said in a matter-of-fact tone that would haunt me for the rest of my days.
“Besides,” the figure says, peering down at me with their gleaming yellow eyes, “You belong to me. Your soul is mine, after all.”
That declaration leaves me floored, silencing my internal yelling as my mind reels, trying to parse what the figure was saying.
“I’ll be looking forward to seeing what you do from now on,” the figure laughs, laying their head on my chest with a sigh, “how you’ll turn out from here.”
“And when the time comes,” they continue breathily, their words tickling my chest as tears started leaking in my eyes, “I look forward to having you in my grasp.”
“You’re mine, ****, you belong to me, never forget that,” the figure smiles as they give me an uncomfortably intense look with their yellow eyes, even as they lay on my chest and speak their words with an increasingly breathy fashion, “your soul is mine, your mind is mine, your body is mine.”
“Soon, your everything will be in my grasp.”