Page 4 of Demonic Cage
“Just disappear! I have no space to deal with you today.”
I already have enough to handle with my classes at the university, the makeup competition – for which I’m too tired, my emotions, and skipping my medication. At least I didn’t imagine ugly monsters, only this beautiful, pale-skinned demigod whose eyebrows slightly rise as surprise flickers across his face.
“People usually don’t reject me like that.” He smirks playfully. “At least, not many dare, anyway.”
I roll my eyes. If I’m imagining him, why does he have to talk? Why can’t he just push me against a tree and…? I shake my head – my thoughts scare me, but I am in my head, so… I guess that’s all right? They say I am crazy, anyways. And having sex with a stranger in the middle of the cemetery seems like a marvelous way to momentarily forget my problems. Ineedto feel that kind of adrenaline rushing through my body.
I close my thighs, but not quickly enough to prevent the man’s gaze going to them, and perhaps I’m just imagining it, but it seems like two silver streaks have flared up for a moment in his black pupils. Of course, it’s my imagination. It can’t be anything else.
“I don’t care what you think of yourself,” I inform dismissively, tilting my head to the side to feign boredom. But I’m not bored at all; the man’s predatory gaze has ignited my curiosity. Why did I imagine him, of all people? “Nor do you interest me. I have power over you, so do what I say and fuck off!”
At least Ihadpower over you when I was taking my medication, but even without it, I can make you obey. The man’s eyebrow almost reaches the sky. He nods, amused, as if I’ve impressed him. Honestly, I have no idea how I gathered this much courage. Nothing is guaranteeing that he won’t turn into a monster in the next moment and bite me. Of course, if he stays in this form, I wouldn’t mind…
“Why do you say such things, when your body communicates something else?” He looks at my chest, where my heart beats faster beneath my ribs. I sigh nervously. Now I’m sure I’m just imagining all this. He can’t know what I feel; it can’t be real. I bite my lip, and the man immediately looks at it, as if he wants to follow my every move. The air between us is much warmer than the September breeze’s coolness. I need more of this warmth. I want the man to bridge the gap between us and place his pale hand on my hip while his chiseled chest presses against me…
I blink heavily and shake my head slightly. I’m fantasizing about a stranger, animaginedstranger. My lips part, and a new kind of old fear crawls up my spine. Not because of the shadowy figure I imagined, who, due to my changed mood, studies me as if he has found the most fascinating treasure in the world.
I’m not crazy. Iforbidmyself to be. Perhaps if I don’t care about him, he will eventually go away. Maybe I only have to endure the night monsters for a few days, and they will then leave me in peace.
I tear my gaze away from the man with the silver hair. However, as I take a step away, cold fingers clasp around my wrist. My eyes widen as I turn my back to the stranger, staring at the hill filled with gray tombstones. Seeing imagined monsters is one thing, but feeling them is on another level. I only feel them when the medication is not enough, and since I haven’t taken anything in over twenty-four hours…
I hear my heart pounding in my ears again, and my knees buckle. It can’t be. It can’t be that I am this weak. I have to learn to shut them out. I have to learn to escape from them.
I wrench my hand out of the shadow and start running. There’s no warm-up – I don’t want them to catch me. I lift my legs as if my life depends on it. For some inexplicable reason, I know that it does. A dense fog covers my field of vision. I never figured out how I get my injuries if the monsters don’t really exist. I even placed a camera at night a few times, but it only showed me sleeping, yet the injuries were there. The doctors, of course, said I injured myself in my sleep.
But I never remembered doing that. I only recall the monsters hurting me.
As I move my wrist while running, I still feel the touch of the imagined figure on me. Imagined. I cling desperately to the word. Imagined. I have no idea how to get better, how to…
I collide with broad shoulders and bounce off them like a rubber ball. I fall on my backside, covering my face with my arm. If it’s the shadowy figure again, I will have to try to defend myself.
“Lotte?”
I blink, my arm slowly sliding down in front of my face. The voice is familiar. I stare at my ex-boyfriend as if I’ve been hit on the head. Well, I assume it’s my ex, considering he hasn’t contacted me in three months.
“Nathan,” I stammer, and before he can assist me, I get up. “What are you doing here?”
“I, uh…” he starts, and the brief pause gives me a chance to assess how much he’s changed. Nathan radiates American vibes. Baby face, light-blue protruding eyes, and the sandy-brown hair falling onto his forehead all give the impression that he has just stepped out of a Hollywood movie. Only his angular jawline reveals his half-Greek heritage. Luxemburg isn’t a big country, but what are the chances of literally bumping into Nathan? I mean, literally?
“I live down the street. I’m on my way home,” he explains, noticing my questioning look.
Oh, right! That makes it much easier to bump into each other. How could I forget where he lives? I’m… something is wrong with me.
I sigh, clapping my hands together, trying to shake off the grime that clings to them, while attempting to get rid of the feeling that someone is watching me. Swallowing hard, I look back over my shoulder, but there’s no one around. The shadowy figure has disappeared. A sense of relief and a strange disappointment wash over me simultaneously. That man looked like he had emerged from the darkest corners of my imagination, someone I envision with every dark fairytale I read.
Someone who is never the hero but the villain – the forbidden fruit in movies I’ve always craved.
I grimace. Well, it’s because he’s a figment of my imagination, of course. My twisted, unconventional imagination. I had felt my whole body shiver when he looked at me, because I want a man exactly like him. A daydream.
“Lotte, are you okay?”
I nod, trying to calm my heartbeat. The shadowy figure is no longer with me; I am safe. I focus on Nathan, and all the anger and bitterness I felt towards him this summer resurfaces. He left without a word, breaking a year-long relationship, just like that. I mean, if it can be called a relationship, where he only had me when he felt like it. For a moment, I contemplate why I always end up with such guys. The ones who just take advantage of me. Of course, it depends on both people – I wanted it too. I wanted him and everything that came with him. Even…
From the corner of my eye, I survey the cemetery: the thick-trunked trees, the dense bushes, and the crypt, which would be a good place to take advantage of if I were still with Nathan. I shake my head. It’s just my twisted fantasy – me wanting to forget, wanting to survive…
I’m angry, but at the same time, tired. I feel withdrawal symptoms working on my stomach, causing nausea to come and go, and because of the hallucinations, I can’t distinguish between what’s real and what’s not.
And, of course, my ex had to appear out of nowhere right now.
