No scent.
No sound.
Only the complete absence of light. Only the fluid touch of the all-consuming blackness flowing beneath me. Inky liquid spills over me. Its obsidian ribbons glide across my skin, slinking through my hair, and trickling over my face and torso to snake around my arms and limbs, enveloping me. Cocooning me. Shielding me from the burdens that only light can bring.
“Wakey, wakey.”
The blackness shudders, contracting. The veil I'm swaddled in ripples on a glassy sheen.
A moment passes, then it stills, seeming to breathe a sigh of relief as it loosens its hold. I allow my limbs to relax as I sink back into its slithering embrace.
“Wakey wakey,” the distant voice coos again, followed by a tap, tap, tap on my nose.
Tremors wrack through the blackness and it roars its wrath. Fractures form and spread, beams of light spearing through the cracks webbing along the veil. Waves wash over me, slipping into my eyes, nose, and mouth, leaving me no choice but to flee, to wade through the torrent and emerge from the once peaceful oblivion offered by the darkness.
Nose twitching, I battle the grogginess of sleep and lift my heavy eyelids. Squinting against the bright light, I wait until my eyes acclimate to the brightness. When they do, I find a heavily muscled male crouching beside my sleeping form.
The cobwebs of sleep instantly receding, I slip my arm out from beneath the blanket, raise my flattened palm cautiously slow… and smack him in the ear.
“Ow!” He collapses to the floor, clutching his ear. “Lena, It's me! Zander!”
“I know.”
His arms fall limp to the floor and he purses his lips.
“Is Amara awake?” I ask on a yawn, hoping to redirect his attention away from me so I can embrace the darkness once again.
A saccharine smile, so full of naivety, spreads across his face. “Not yet.” Standing, he rounds my twin-size bed and creeps towards where Amara is sleeping beneath the lone window.
How he's not aware he's walking the plank is beyond me.
Too lazy to follow him, even with my gaze, I shut my eyes and enjoy the warmth of morning light heating my cheeks as I tug the woolen blanket up to my chin, burrowing into the scratchy fabric. I wait for the inevitable.
Hearing the creaks of the floor halt with his steps, an evil smirk quirks my lips.
“Wakey wakey. It's a beau– Ow!” he yowls. “She bit me! You fucking bit me! Why do you always have to bite?!”
“Stop waking me up like that and I'll stop biting,” Amara replies groggily.
“Vicious little creature,” he mumbles.
Rolling to my other side, I find Zander sucking on his finger while glaring down at where Amara is snuggled up in her bed.
Always quick to forgive, he releases his finger with a pop and smiles brightly as he makes his way toward the door. “It's a beautiful day. The sun is shining. Birds are singing. It's time to seize the day!” We both stare blankly at him and he huffs while opening the door. “I’ll leave you two ornery females to dress in private.” Stepping over the threshold, he murmurs, “Must be that time of the month again.”
Amara quickly snatches a figurine off the bedside table and whips it at his head. His eyes widen and he squeaks as he slams the door shut, leaving the statue to shatter against the wood.
I wonder if I’ll be charged for that?
If anything, Amara should charge the innkeeper for relieving her of such a frightful piece. Frankly, it was a bit terrifying sleeping next to the doll-like figurine with a demonic smile. I swear its ungodly eyes were cataloging every one of my weaknesses, imagining all the ways it could murder me in my sleep. Unable to hold that porcelain stare for long, I spun its face towards the wall several times throughout the night, but every time I reopened my eyes… there it was. Watching me. The first time I woke and saw its creepy doll eyes, I swear I peed a little. At that point, I debated hiding it beneath the bed, but then I thought of how it would stare up at me through the mattress and that concerned me even more.
Holding onto the mantra that one should never take their eyes off the enemy, I thought it best to keep it within view.
Praying to Azazel himself that the evil doll won't resurrect itself, I watch the porcelain pieces skate across the wooden floor of the tiny room. When the remaining slivers pass the cool hearth and tattered privacy screen to clank against the lone wardrobe, my fear lessens and I determine its regeneration unlikely.
Stretching my arms above my head, I say, “I slept like the dead.”
Even if the bed is lumpy and smells of mildew.
“I did, too.” Eyes twinkling in mirth, Amara smirks. “After you finished twiddling yourself, that is.”
I choke on my spit. “I was not twiddling myself!”
She laughs. “I heard you.”
How did she know? I barely made a sound!
“You were asleep,” I accuse. “Snoring!”
She shrugs, her shoulders lifting past the blanket’s frayed hem. “You're noisy when you play with yourself. You make these soft little whimpering sounds.” She cackles. “I was just waiting for you to scream, ‘Darius, oh, Darius!’”
Able to see the humor even in the face of my embarrassment, I chuckle along with her and roll onto my back, staring up at the peeling wood of the ceiling.
Amara isn’t far off in her assessment. I had to bite my lips to stop Darius’ name from rumbling past them. Watching him walk away, I assumed the need would lessen with distance, but unfortunately he consumed my thoughts. I would've normally found a bedmate or at least waited to touch myself until I was alone, but my reaction to him was too intense to ignore.
I sigh. “It's just been too long.”
Still smiling, she says, “I bet Darius could help with that.”
