Chapter 70: Chapter 70
I tried to fall asleep again
One second I was shivering on the bed, whispering the same broken prayer over and over into the blanket, and the next, I was falling into that half-dark space between waking and sleep. Not rest. Not peace. Just exhaustion dragging me under while my mind stayed restless, tangled in the nightmare.
In that dream, I was still in the room. The door still loomed, the shadows still shifted, and his voice threaded through the air like smoke. Only this time, the walls bled. Black water seeped from the corners and hands reached from the floor. I screamed silently, my voice stolen by the shadows.
I jerked awake with a gasp, my heart pounding like a drum. Sweat plastered my hair to my temples. The moonlight through the high window had shifted, tracing silver bars across the floor. I clutched the blanket tighter.
It had only been a dream. I told myself that. Over and over. It was only a dream. It wasn’t real. He isn’t here.
But the room was wrong and then I heard it.
A sound so faint it could have been imagined: the drag of a boot across the floor. Slow. Deliberate. My heart stopped, then thundered harder than before. My gaze snapped to the door, but it was still closed, untouched. The sound came again, this time behind me. I turned, breath caught in my throat. He was there. Standing in the dark by the far wall, tall and broad, his posture relaxed as though he had been watching me for hours. His golden eyes glimmered faintly in the dark, fixed on me. That soft smile curved his lips, the one that wasn’t kind at all but sharp with mockery.
My whole body locked, frozen between scream and silence.
I whispered the only word that would come out. "No..."
He tilted his head, as if amused by the tremor in my voice. Then, in that velvet-soft tone that always cut me deeper than if he had shouted, he spoke.
"Dreaming of me, little one?"
The air left my lungs. I clutched the blanket tighter, as though thin cloth could keep him away.
His eyes followed the motion. The smile deepened. "Hiding again," he murmured. "Do you really think a scrap of fabric will save you?"
My lips trembled. "Why... why are you here?"
That laugh, low, soft, mocking spilled from his chest. "Because I can be. Because you thought you were alone, and I wanted to remind you that you never are."
I pressed back into the headboard, the wood cold against my spine. My hands shook so hard I could barely keep hold of the blanket.
He stepped forward, slow, unhurried, his boots whispering against the floorboards. Each sound made my heart stutter. He stopped at the side of the bed, looking down at me as if I were something small and fragile.
"You should be careful," he said softly. "Earlier, you almost tripped and fell. What if you had broken that pretty leg? Hmm?" His tone was gentle, almost tender but every syllable dripped with danger. "I’d hate to see you crawling."
I squeezed my eyes shut, whispering, "Please go, please go."
A pause. Then I felt it not a touch, but the weight of his presence leaning closer. His breath, warm and sharp with pine and iron, brushed my cheek.
"Begging again," he whispered. "Do you pray to God, or to me?"
My eyes snapped open. His face was inches from mine, his gaze locked on me. My pulse roared in my ears.
I swallowed hard, forcing words out between shaking lips. "God will protect me from you."
For a moment, silence. Then he laughed softly, the sound curling around me like smoke. "Is that what you tell yourself in the dark? That He listens? That He’ll come between you and me?" His voice dropped lower, intimate and cruel. "I’m the one who comes when you’re alone. I’m the one you feel breathing in the dark. Even when I’m not here, you hear me. You see me. Tell me, Ellie doesn’t that sound like prayer being answered?"
Tears burned my eyes. I shook my head violently.
"No. No, you’re-"
"Real?" he finished for me, his smile widening. "Oh, I’m very real."
He straightened suddenly, towering above me again. My body flinched as if struck, though he hadn’t touched me. His shadow stretched long across the bed, swallowing me whole.
"You’re fragile," he said at last, his voice softer, almost reflective. "So small, so breakable. And yet... you keep trying to resist. That’s why I come back. Because I enjoy watching you crack a little more each time."
My breath came in short, shallow bursts. I couldn’t stop shaking.
He lingered there for a long moment, his gaze traveling slowly over me, drinking in my fear. Then, finally, he stepped back.
"I won’t stay tonight," he murmured. "You’ve given me enough for now."
Relief shot through me so sudden it almost made me dizzy. But it was cut short when he leaned toward the door and added, softly:
"Sleep while you can. You’ll never know when I’ll return."
With that, he turned and opened the door. The hinges groaned quietly. He stepped into the hall, his silhouette framed by silver moonlight, and then he was gone. The door clicked shut behind him.
I was left shaking, breathless, every muscle aching from the tension. My tears spilled freely now, hot and silent, soaking into the blanket I still clutched like a shield. But he was gone. But his voice lingered in my ears. His shadow lingered in the corners. And the promise of his return sank deep into my chest like a knife I could never pull out.
Finally The morning light crept into my room like a trespasser. Pale, thin beams broke through the cracks in the shutters, slanting across the floor, and for a brief second, I thought I was safe. The shadows were softer, the air quieter, and yet I couldn’t move. My body felt heavy, as if my bones had been replaced with lead. My throat was dry, my lips cracked, and every muscle in me trembled when I tried to sit up. It wasn’t just exhaustion. Something had changed inside me after last night. I remembered the noises. The whispers, the phantom laughter, the creaking wood that seemed to breathe. I remembered falling, my chest heaving as if the walls themselves were closing in. My prayers had been swallowed by the dark, and I wasn’t sure if God had heard them at all.
And above all of it his presence. The Psycho Alpha.
Even when he wasn’t there, I could feel him. It was like his shadow had seeped into my veins, crawling under my skin, tainting every breath I took.
I tried to stand, but the moment my bare feet touched the floor, I froze.bWhat if the floor gives way? What if there’s something waiting underneath?bMy eyes darted toward the corner where the shadows clung stubbornly, darker than the rest. My heartbeat spiked. It wasn’t just a corner anymore it was a hole, a mouth, something that could swallow me whole if I turned my back. I stumbled back onto the bed, clutching the blanket to my chest like it could shield me.
"Stop," I whispered to myself. "It’s just your mind. Just... your mind."
But my mind wasn’t listening.
The rest of the morning bled away in fragments. I tried to eat the bread left at my door, but I couldn’t swallow more than a single bite. The crust felt like rocks against my teeth, and I kept imagining that the bread had been poisoned. That he had touched it. That his fingerprints were pressed into the crumbs. I threw it away, my stomach twisting with hunger and dread. The hours dragged, and I counted each second with the steady pounding in my head. The noises hadn’t stopped. They had only changed. Sometimes it was a faint scratching, like claws dragging along the walls. Sometimes it was whispers, just beyond hearing, muttering words I couldn’t quite catch. Sometimes worst of all it was silence. Thick, suffocating silence that pressed on my ears until I thought I might scream.
I tried to distract myself, but every attempt only fed my paranoia. I picked up a pot of water to wash my face, but the surface rippled, and for a split second I saw his reflection staring back at me. His lips curled in that soft, mocking smile that haunted me, his eyes glinting with cruel amusement. I dropped the pot. It shattered against the floor, shards scattering across the stone, water pooling at my feet. The sound was too loud, too sharp. My hands flew to my ears, but it was already inside me, echoing through my skull. I crouched in the corner, rocking, whispering frantic prayers.
"Please, God. Please. Please don’t let him be here. Please
My own voice broke, the words collapsing into sobs.
By the afternoon, I stopped trying to fight it. I couldn’t. My body was trembling too much, my head too heavy. I sat with my back to the wall, staring at the door, convinced it would open at any second.
I imagined the handle turning, the wood creaking, his tall figure filling the frame. I imagined the way he would tilt his head, as though studying me like prey, before stepping inside.
Every creak of the building made me flinch.
Every gust of wind under the shutters sent my heart racing.
Every shadow shifted like it was alive. At some point, I started talking to myself. I didn’t even realize it at first. My lips just moved, whispering broken words.
"He’s not here. He’s not. He can’t be. He doesn’t care about me. No—no, that’s wrong. He does care. He watches. Always watching. Always"
My throat burned, but I couldn’t stop. If I stopped, the silence would devour me again.
"Ellie..."
The sound slithered through the air, crawling into my ear, down my spine.
I shook my head violently. "No! No, you’re not real. You’re not real!"
But the laughter that followed was unmistakable. Low, soft, mocking. Exactly like his.
I covered my ears, but it didn’t help. The sound was inside me.
At some point in the night, I must have drifted into a half-sleep, because when I opened my eyes again, the room didn’t look the same. The walls were bending, the ceiling seemed to pulse with a heartbeat. Shadows moved like liquid, spreading across the floor until they touched my bare feet.
I screamed and scrambled onto the bed, pulling my legs up, my chest heaving. My vision blurred with tears, and I clawed at my own arms, desperate to wake up.
"This isn’t real, this isn’t real, this isn’t real-"
But the shadows didn’t stop. They twisted together, forming a figure at the foot of my bed.
Tall, broad and smiling evilly at me.
"Careful," he whispered, his voice soft and mocking, the same words he had spoken when he caught me after my fall. "Or else next time you might break."
I pressed my hands over my eyes, shaking violently. "Go away! Go away, go away, GO AWAY!"
When I dared to look again, he was gone. The shadows were just shadows. The room was empty.
But my sanity wasn’t.