Page 20 of Chosen By the Alien
“You will know.”
Our eyes meet again, and this time, I lean in first. One last kiss. It’s slow, full of promise, full of things we haven’t said yet.
And then he’s gone.
Just like that.
Back in my apartment, I lock the door behind me and lean against it, chest still tight, lungs working overtime.
My bed is untouched. My phone is dead. The window's open and the air smells like pine and electricity.
I walk to the mirror.
And I see someone I barely recognize.
Not just the mark at my throat, though that’s there, dark and undeniable. Not just the mussed hair or the faint scratches on my chest from where he gripped me while I came so hard I saw stars.
No, it's something deeper.
My expression is… softer. Like I’m seeing something new. Something raw. There’s confusion in my eyes, yeah. But there’s alsohope.
I press my fingers to the spot he marked. The sensation rushes back, him inside me, the stretch, the fullness, the way Iwantedit.
The way I came, untouched, just from feeling him.
Fuck.
I shudder and grip the edge of the sink. My cock twitches again, half-hard just from the memory. I shouldn't still want more. I shouldn'tcraveit.
But I do.
And it scares the hell out of me.
So I do what I always do when my thoughts spiral: I grab my journal from the bottom drawer and flip to a blank page.
Entry 1: I thought this would be a dead party. But I think I found something alive.
I write fast, scratching ink into paper like it’s the only thing tethering me to reality.
He kissed me. He didn’t stop. And I didn’t stop him. I wanted it. I want him.
He touched me like I wasn’t a mistake. Like my body was something meant to be claimed.
I pause, breath catching as the words pour out.
Is this what it means to be chosen? Not hunted. Not seduced. But… seen?
I close the notebook after a few more pages, hand cramping.
My heart is still racing. I’m naked under my shirt, half-dressed, still sticky with dried sweat. But I can’t bring myself to shower yet. Like washing it off would be erasing something holy.
Instead, I climb into bed and hold the necklace in my hand. The shard glows faintly against my palm, warm. Alive.
I stare at the ceiling.
I don’t know what any of thismeans. I don’t know what comes next. I don’t even know what tocallwhat’s happening to me.
But for the first time in years… I want to find out.
