Page 339 of Phobia

If this is a dream…if I've finally lost my mind, my actions would make little difference. But on the off chance my savior is watching, I must try, I must plead with them. If they have brought me here to die, the time is now. They must be merciful and kill me.

“Please,” I whimper as the fog outside turns into waves of thick darkness, spilling over the walls of my dollhouse, trying to force its way in. “Please, do it now. Kill me, now!” I call out louder.

But there is no response. My eyes are wide in fear as the tar blackness engulfs my sanctuary, sucking the air out of every single nook and cranny. My throat closes and I struggle to take a single breath.

For a moment I am submerged in the darkness completely. I can hardly see my hands in front of my face. But I can intensely feel the cold fingers closing over my throat – calloused, rough and clammy with anticipation. Like always, they drag me back to my past. I feel it. Although I know it isn’t real, the pain is still white hot, shutting down my entire body. I fall to my knees, breathless and horrified. I claw at my throat feeling the skin burn and break, trying to free myself from the invisible grip that has been haunting me for years.

A clicking sound quickly invades my senses and lights flicker all around me, chasing the darkness away.

I fall to my side, panting, completely exhausted, cold sweat clinging to my body. I don't dare move at first, but soon my slight body begins to violently tremble. I tuck my robe tighter, curling into a fetal position. I make no move to get up. I can’t.

The darkness is still there, right outside the glass. The beast that haunts me is pacing right there, disturbing the night with its powerful gate, biding his time, planning his next attack.

I feel his unforgiving gaze upon my fading body. I will never escape him.

We are bound. Forever.

Chapter 8

I had to see it for myself. I forced myself to watch my angel suffer. I had to know what haunts him.

Dear God, the way his heart galloped in his chest when I scooped him off the floor. I've never seen fear like this. I know what true horror looks like. I’ve made men piss themselves just by looking in my eyes. It is never a pretty sight, once they finally realize that the cleaver in my hand is not going to be merciful.

But my angel is completely shattered simply at the sight of nightfall. I can't even imagine what he sees out there, but to me it’s just the quiet of the night, falling gently over the forest surrounding my home.

I've chosen this location for a reason. There are no other residences for miles. Hardly any access unless one knows of the gravel road I had personally laid before I began building my house. There is no address for my home. All my documents, mail, and any type of legal paperwork are registered and delivered to the restaurant.

So are Andre’s.

Neither of us lives there.

My angel takes a startled breath, still firmly tucked into my arms. I feel my heart breaking, expecting the recoil of his body, but it never comes.

I feel his fine fingers curl in a fist on top of my chest then relax and lay flat, slowly moving to feel the frantic beat of my heart. They rest there tentatively at first and then slightly digging in my flesh, clutching, holding on, as if scared I’ll push him away.

My sweet angel takes me completely by surprise as he snuggles himself closer, deeply inhaling my scent. He's humming quietly and hooks his slender leg around my calf, latching permanently to my frame. As if I could ever dream of wanting to part with him. I’ve missed him so much.

Even if I’ve been separated from him for only a day.

Even if I’ve watched him move through my home, this whole time.

Our home, I hope he calls it soon.

I dare not speak before him, lest I scare my little bird, but I let him know that I'm awake by kissing his soft hair.

He sighs and wriggles in my arms. His slight body is still chilled, so I tug on the throw folded neatly to his side and drape it over us. If he won’t talk, then I won’t either.

What is there to say?

He’s not running away from me, and I honestly don’t care about much else.

His body melts against mine, his face hidden in the folds of the plush fabric. His breath grazes my chest.

I love this so much.

I love him for giving me this moment.

He is quiet for a long time. His breathing is even. Not a single twitch of his body. I think perhaps the shock has worn him out and he’s fallen asleep again. He surprises me a moment later when his thin elegant fingers resume their play over my bare chest.