Page 8

Aisling

I ’ve been stuck in this damn chamber for what feels like an eternity. I’ve tried falling back asleep, pinching myself, but nothing brings me back. The dream world has always been a bitch for me to navigate and tonight's no exception.

The room I woke up in is, and I’m not going to lie, absolutely stunning.

High vaulted ceiling with exposed wooden beams, the color of night crawls high above me.

The walls are coated in velvet, eerily similar to the color of blood, but still the perfect contrast to the black, wrought iron lanterns and accents that are spread along it.

Black candles are splayed throughout the room, their light dancing off full-length mirrors with dark, intricate frames, making the room feel both inviting and slightly off .

If I didn’t know better, I’d think this place was styled by the Gods. I’d wake up here again if it gave me the chance to discover their decorator’s secrets.

My eyes fixate on the giant cathedral-style doors in front of me, and I take a deep breath in, grounding myself.

No better time than the present, I guess .

My arms strain against the weight of the solid wood, opening it just enough for my body to slip through. My hands instinctively wrap around my barely clothed body, a shiver clawing its way down my back.

Even in my dreams, I can’t show up in some mysterious dream-like leather, like I’m ready for battle. Nope. Just me and my oversized tee, looking like I sleepwalked straight out of an existential crisis.

I take in the long hallway in front of me, grand arches and winding corridors that have doors lining each side. Might as well gamble with my nightmare–worst case, I wake up.

Best case, I meet my monsters.

I move through the hallway silently. Every door I try to open pushes back against me, as if it holds secrets they don’t want me to know about. Until one gives, slow and deliberate, like it’s been waiting here for me.

“Hello?” I whisper into the room.

No answer.

I step into the darkness as it drapes over me like a shadowy veil, the outside light disappearing into nothingness as if it were snuffed out completely.

The only glow in the room comes from those same candles, black and low-burning, flickering like they’re about to witness something wicked.

My eyes take a couple of seconds to adjust, and then I see it.

Look, I know curiosity killed the cat, but if you were in my shoes, you would investigate too.

My legs step forward, seemingly at their own volition, and a lump begins to form in my throat at the sight before me.

Tyler lies there, naked and tied up like an offering to the Gods.

He’s covered in dried blood, and his body is filled with gashes so deep you can see the different layers of tissue beneath his skin.

His arms are tied above his head with ropes winding so tightly around him that you can see the bruises forming on his body.

Symbols are etched into the floor around him, arranged too precisely to be accidental, glistening like fresh ink. Gods, I really hope it’s just ink.

This is a dream, this isn’t real .

I keep repeating the same mantra in my head like this isn’t some fucked up joke my mind is playing on me.

Then I feel it.

The air around me shifts.

It grows colder.

Darker.

More suffocating .

Then I hear it.

“This isn’t a dream, my child. You are here in flesh and bone. Same as that parasite ,” the last word is a hiss that lingers in the air too long, like a snake before it’s going to attack.

“I-I’m sorry, but I don’t understand,” I reply, confusion coating my tongue.

The flames glow brighter, and I notice a small obsidian bowl and a mirror set up between Tyler’s legs. I creep closer and touch the red velvet fabric under him; it feels like butter and is softer than anything I've ever felt.

Inside the bowl sits some red crystals, snake skin, a knife, and an assortment of red and black feathers.

No idea what that is about, but… sure, why not, right?

I reach out and grasp a feather between my fingers, and my body goes blank. My head flies back, forcing me to look up at the endless ceiling. My eyes roll back as my arms and legs tingle, a feral screech tearing from my throat .

I have no idea what drugs they gave Tyler, but that sound should’ve woken the dead. My hand reaches for the knife, and I try to resist, but I’m no longer in control of myself.

Before I can comprehend what’s happening, I’m on top of Tyler, straddling his leg. An unknown weight pushes me down, creating a warm friction between my legs.

“You know what you must do, my child. Seduce and destroy. It’s what you were made for.”

The voice is in my head now, a siren’s song entangling me in its trance. Tyler’s eyes begin to open, and the fear takes over almost instantly.

“You fucking bitch!” Tyler roars, trying to get his hands on me, but he can’t move.

He’s trapped.

Oh, how the table’s have turned you bastard fuck.

I don’t say a word as I begin to play with my abuser. I don’t understand what’s happening, but the Gods were nice enough to serve him up on a silver platter after all, and I’m not one to ignore a gift. There’s no more second-guessing anymore. Each movement is calculated and cold.

I make quick work of the remaining empty space on his skin, every slash dragging me down deeper and deeper into this fucked up moment. My core tightens, and I can feel my thighs getting wetter with each drop of blood escaping his body.

Am I fucking turned on right now?

Instead of shying away from the feeling, I lean into it. Focusing on the friction between my legs and Tyler’s thigh with every river of blood I create. I can hear his screams turning to wet gurgles.

I hope he chokes on his blood.

My finger traces through the sticky red substance as I continue to ride Tyler’s leg. I slip away again for just a second, my mind becoming a blank mess.

Coming back to reality moments later, my attention is drawn to the bloody symbol now scrawled across Tyler’s chest. A crescent moon atop an upside-down cross. It’s familiar, but I can’t place where I know it from.

My arms rise above my head on their own, hands grasping onto something above me. I try to resist but whatever has this hold on me is fucking strong.

“Ahhhh!” I screech, trying my best to stop my body and make it listen.

But it doesn’t halt, and honestly, I’m not sure if I want it to.

Every squirm, every movement I make brings me a step closer to my ending as my thighs begin to tighten beneath me. I try to focus on my arms despite my body’s continued assault on Tyler's leg, but it’s no use.

My thighs tremble and tighten. My arms are trying even harder now to force themselves down.

“Fuu-fuuucccckkkkkkkk” I hiss out, my body folding in on itself, the invisible force finally releasing its hold on me.

I scream out as my orgasm washes over me, my vision goes white, and I can see tiny little stars dancing behind my eyelids.

As I come down from the haze, my eyes follow the blood trails across Tyler’s body. That’s when I notice my hands are gripping a knife engraved with symbols along its long curved handle.

A knife that is currently lodged in my abuser’s chest.

What the fuck have I just done.