Page 338 of Phobia
A dollhouse comes to mind as I drift from room to room, meandering as if I have all the time in the world.
The dark forests surrounding the home are swimming in the early October fog. If I must guess, it is maybe nine in the morning, but what day? It seems that I am far, far away from the busy streets of the city. I can’t see much but an old gravel road cutting through the thick shrubbery, disappearing deeper into the forest. There is no sight of other buildings, or any human presence for that matter.
Virginal. That is what comes to mind as my fingers splay on the cold glass in a futile attempt to get a feel for the temperature outside.
I am relieved nightfall is hours away, but I most sincerely hope to be dead by then. I won't be able to handle the darkness in a place like this.
The second floor has two bedrooms and a master bathroom with doorways to both. It is exquisite - perfectly clean, all white.
Both bedrooms look pristine. Soft plush and fur throws decorate the beds dressed in thick white linens. The floors are dark hardwood, the contrast bringing forward the minimalist design of the furniture and the architecture of this place all together. I’ve figured out the wardrobes and cupboards must be somehow hidden in the walls.
I look down at myself – still wearing the white plush robe I found when I woke up. I quite like it. I'm clean and bare. Ready to meet my maker, I guess. Why bother looking for clothes?
I linger in the bedroom that holds the most scents – cinnamon, vanilla, oils of various kinds, and sugar. It makes me smile. It feels…familiar. Safe.Like a soft embrace.
I crawl onto the bed and roll around the perfectly made duvet rubbing myself into the scent. I lay my head on the pillow and run my fingers over the perfectly white fabric, trying to imagine another person lying there looking back at me. I want to ask them,
Who are you? Why me? Why did you choose me?
“Thank you,” I whisper instead. And I mean it. If I am to die tonight, this is wonderful. My mind is filled with wonder and hopeful anticipation for the first time in years. I don't even care exactly what my end will entail. I am at peace. I am happy.I am whole.
It doesn’t matter whether this place is real or if I have completely lost my mind and am slowly dying chained to the floor of the abandoned house John has been taking me to.
If this is how my story ends, so be it.
Chapter 6
I watch him sleep. This gorgeous angel is in my bed. Our bed, it is to become, if he so desires.
I wish to crawl over him, blanket him with my body, and possess him.
I've kept him sedated for a week, feeding him with a drip and helping his body heal as much as possible. I've bathed him with care every day and I've held him in my arms, contemplating if I should stop at all. Why must he awake if he suffers so much?
Oh, but I miss his eyes. They are grey, stormy, like the angry skies that seem to swallow the world just before winter. I want to feel his lips curved against mine. I want to hear his voice again.
I smile, imagining the way my name will sound uttered from his delicious mouth.
I miss him. I miss feeling his slight body tucked in mine. I miss his breath on my chest.
He doesn't remember, but this is the bed we’ve shared for many nights. I've cradled him in my arms for one week now, and even in the deepest haze, I feel his body tense at night. He is terrified. My angel is fearful of things he feels with his entire being, of demons that plague his mind relentlessly. Even in the deepest drug-induced haze, I can taste his horror on my lips, as I try to soothe him as best as I can. His body craves relief.
I will give it to him.
I will set him free.
I will bring him peace.
Chapter 7
I wake up with a start. Horror grips me immediately as the first thing I see are the bright yellow and orange colors of the sunset.
I’m all alone and the darkness is coming to claim me. A whimper escapes my trembling lips as I scatter away from the bed and run down the stairs.
No, I'm not looking for a door. I don't want to be outside.
I stop at the glass wall facing the gravel road. I figure the entrance must be there somehow. But I don’t want to leave. I turn to the security cameras, discretely built into the ceiling panels.
I clear my throat.
