Page 7

Seven

I woke up with sunlight on my skin.

Warm, golden, perfect.

A blanket wrapped snug around me, the scent of fresh linen filling my lungs. My body felt light, like all the tension that once lived in my muscles had unraveled overnight. My skin was soft, my hair freshly brushed, smoothed down in a way I never bothered to do myself.

Something felt off.

I sat up slowly, my mind sluggish as if waking from a long, deep sleep. My room was clean. The clutter that usually lingered on my nightstand—half-empty water bottles, unopened mail, tangled cords—was gone. Everything was neatly arranged, my comforter folded at the edges as if I had taken care of it without realizing it.

I blinked at the open window, sheer curtains swaying gently in the breeze. Sunlight spilled across the floor, catching on the pale hardwood like something inviting. I felt the pull, an urge to stretch out in that golden warmth, to let it swallow me whole.

Be good. Stay warm.

The voice curled through my mind. I sucked in a breath, my heart thudding as I forced myself to remember. Had I cleaned last night? Had I brushed my hair? Had I even gone to bed willingly?

I didn’t know.

My fingers trembled as I reached for my phone. No new messages. No calls. The last thing I remembered was the tarot card, The Moon.

And now?

Now everything was warm. Comfortable.

I let out a slow exhale and pushed back the blanket, swinging my legs over the bed. My skin prickled as my feet met the floor—cool, real, something grounding in a world that suddenly felt too easy to fall into.

The day passed in a strange blur.

I showered, washed my hair, deep-conditioned it like I was someone who actually cared.

I made breakfast, something balanced and nutritious, something I wouldn’t have bothered with before.

My apartment stayed clean. I wiped down surfaces, folded laundry, organized drawers I hadn’t opened in months. It all felt natural, like this had always been me.

Like I had never been a mess to begin with.

Each time I caught myself sinking into the routine, I stopped. I tried to remember why. Why was I suddenly functioning? Why did my body move on its own, doing things I barely thought about?

The warmth settled around me like a second skin.

A voice hummed in my head, it’s presence soothing, rewarding.

Good girl. Keep going.

I shivered. Not from fear.

From something worse.

I liked it.

The nights belonged to Moon.

When the sun dipped below the skyline, when the golden light faded into the abyss of night, the dreams came. I don’t know why I started to dream of him, but he was always waiting for me.

The moment my eyes shut, I was elsewhere.

Darkness. Cool air, thick like velvet, pressing against my skin. I stood in a place I didn’t recognize, yet somehow, I knew I belonged here.

Then—a whisper.

“You hide so much from yourself.”

I turned, but there was only shadow.

The shadows curled around him like living things, shifting with his every movement. His porcelain face caught the faintest silver light, cracks tracing lines along his cheeks, as if time itself had tried to break him and failed.

“I see pieces of you,” he murmured, stepping closer, his voice threading into my veins like a cold tide. “But not everything. Not yet.”

I swallowed hard, my pulse sluggish, dreamlike. “You don’t know me.”

A hand lifted, long fingers trailing the air between us as if tracing something only he could see. “I know what you wanted to be.”

The air shifted. The world around me changed, memories unraveling like ribbons in the dark.

I gasped as images flooded my mind—my younger self, wide-eyed and full of dreams. The things I wanted before I learned better. Before the world broke me.

Moon watched, his head tilting. “Why did you stop?”

The question cut. I felt it in my ribs, deeper than any nightmare he could conjure.

I tried to turn away, but there was nowhere to go. Only him. Only the dark.

His fingers ghosted over my temple, a barely-there touch, and suddenly I was somewhere else.

The past bled into the dream, distorted, broken.

A flickering apartment hallway. My own voice, raw and trembling.

A shadow standing in front of me. A man.

My stomach lurched. No. No, I didn’t want to see this.

Moon inhaled sharply. He had seen.

His entire presence shifted. The shadows around him grew darker, twisting into something vicious.

I stumbled back. “Get out of my head.”

He stepped forward, slow, deliberate. “Who hurt you?”

I gasped, heart hammering. My throat closed up.

The dream started to unravel, everything shattering at once.

Then—

I woke up. Gasping.

I sat upright in bed, my chest rising and falling in ragged breaths. My sheets were damp with sweat, my skin too cold, my mind too full.

I grabbed my phone on instinct, hands shaking.

No new messages.

But my call log?—

I had deleted something.

Or… someone.

My stomach twisted as realization settled in. Sun had done it.

In my sleep. In my hypnosis.

A warmth curled around me, invisible yet tangible.

You don’t need him anymore.

My fingers clenched the phone, my pulse loud in my ears.

And somewhere—deep in the shadows of my mind?—

Moon was watching. Waiting.