Asteria
I could feel the darkness swallowing me bit by bit, every cell inside me screaming with terrible dread. My body was heavy, and my bones were breaking slowly with agony. The only thing I could see was a dim red light in the distance. I could hear it faintly speaking to me. Alluring me. Promising me a sweet escape from this agony. A burdensome pressure was squeezing out of me the latest drops of air, making my insides ache with every attempt to breathe. With every move I was struggling to make, I was being pulled closer to the red light and deeper into the sorrow.
I could see it now. My sweet, promising light was the moon itself. Its bloody colors were washing over my face, causing me so much grief that I could feel my heart stopping. Its glowing red light was pulsating through the darkness, like it was consuming my life force for its pleasure. It had such a frightening hunger that it completely paralyzed me.
But, besides the hunger, there was something else. It had a song that was so beautiful yet so sad, full of pain and suffering. Just like a siren's song, it was so seductive, making you easily get lost in its story. It felt so familiar that I almost let myself get wrapped in its embrace. Its calling was interrupted by the sound of a raven, which shattered the illusion, cutting through the song like a blade.
My fear returned all at once, and I knew I had to wake up to fight my way back. Warmth spread at the back of my head, crawling over my skull as I dug my nails into my skin, desperate to feel something real.
My sight was hit by the blackness of the room I was in, and it took a few seconds to realize I was still in Julian's bedroom. I couldn't move. My joints ached, my chest heaved. It felt as though invisible claws were pressing me into the mattress, pinning me beneath their weight. My eyes darted toward the edge of the bed and froze.
Something was lying beside me.
A shadow.
A figure.
A hideous, dark being hovered over the sheets, close enough that I could feel its breath against my ear. Tears streamed down my face, hot and uncontrollable, as the truth settled in. I couldn't run. I couldn't even scream.
And then it moved.
A long, cold tongue slid into my ear, revolting and wet. The sensation jolted through me like electricity, tearing a scream from my chest as my body finally obeyed me again. I shot upright, gasping for air, my skin slick with cold sweat.
For a few seconds, I just sat there, trembling, eyes darting across the darkness. The room was silent. Still. Julian lay next to me, breathing evenly, peaceful.
Exhaustion weighed down on me, heavy and inescapable, pulling me back into the bed like a current I couldn't fight. My limbs refused to move; my eyes fell shut.
And then it came again.
A violent tug on my hair, sharp and real, yanked my head back. Invisible claws dug into my scalp as a hateful voice echoed inside my skull, shrill and mocking:
Do you think you can get away?
I jumped once again, shaking from my core, not wanting to be near the bed anymore. I stood for a few moments in the darkness, trying to regain my composure. Nausea churned in my stomach, the lingering memory of those claws and that sliding, repulsive tongue refusing to leave my skin.
I spent the rest of the night moving, making coffee, cleaning, reading, sketching, anything to keep my mind busy. The thought of sleep filled me with dread. No matter how I tried to shake it, I could still feel his claws at the back of my head, the ghost of his breath in my ear.
By the time dawn came, the light was almost comforting. I opened the window, letting the cool air in as birds began to sing outside. The first rays of sun hit my face, and I tried to convince myself that it was over.
Julian appeared in the doorway, smiling sleepily.
"Well, aren't you an early bird?" he teased, leaning down to kiss me.
He stopped mid-sentence when he noticed the spotless apartment.
"Wait—you cleaned all this? Did you even sleep?"
"Just a little," I smiled back, keeping the horrors of the night to myself. "I have to get back to my place to work on a painting. I know I said we would spend this weekend together, but I'm a little behind. I thought maybe you could have a few hours to yourself and then catch up in the evening. Is that okay?"
"Alright," he sighed, exaggerating the gesture like I'd just stabbed him in the heart. "You can't get rid of me, you know? I'll come over later and make sure you still love me."
"I do." I kissed him gently, standing there for a few seconds to enjoy his sleepy nuzzle against my neck, then left.
I wandered the streets, taking the long way home to enjoy the fresh autumn air. The day was sunny, the scent of the rain from the night before still lingering. Yet, a nagging feeling of unease pressed against me, a whisper of warning that something was about to happen.
When I arrived, the first thing I noticed was a raven on my window, sending a shiver down my spine.
Could it be the same one?
I threw my backpack on the floor, ignoring it, and settled in front of the massive canvas. After a few blank stares, I picked up my brushes and began sliding them over the surface, trying to lose myself in the strokes.But the frustration came fast. My strokes grew harder, messier. Paint splattered across the floor, colors mixed into chaos. My head throbbed with memories of the nightmare, the demon's voice, the moon's song.
Every sound in the apartment made me jump. My hand trembled, my breath came unevenly.
Then a sharp cry from the window made me snap.
Caw.
"Leave me the hell alone! Shoo!" I shouted, waving my arms like a madwoman at the bird.
It tilted its head, almost amused, and let out another croak before finally spreading its dark wings and disappearing into the sky.
I sighed and sank to the floor.
Great! Now I am yelling at birds...
I took a deep breath and sank to the floor, questioning myself. As my eyes roamed my little studio apartment, I became more aware of my life, or what I had managed to piece together of it. Random objects were scattered everywhere. Books and albums, theater props, curtains, vintage candle holders, figurines, and tiny statuettes filled the shelves. Photographs covered the walls, a collection of strangers' faces captured in fleeting moments, reflecting my obsession with visual arts.
But there were no family photos. No personal items passed down through generations. No mother's dress, no grandmother's earrings. No grandpa's pipe, no father's guitar. Everything I owned was a desperate attempt to create a past, to belong somewhere. Train tickets, bottle caps, little trinkets, I had tried to manufacture memories that didn't exist. Scraps of other people's stories I'd collected to fill the silence.
What bothered me the most was that I didn't even remember anything. I had no memories before that night.
It was pretty cold outside, and I was roaming barefoot at the edge of the town in a ragged dress, full of dirt, with my name written on my arm. I remembered being so tired and afraid, not understanding anything about my surroundings, until a kind old man had found me.
He took me to the hospital and called the police, but nobody could help me. They searched for my family for days without luck, and ultimately they put me in an orphanage. It was a difficult time of my life when I think about it. I felt like an alien among all those strangers, not understanding anything and being constantly afraid. I wasn't even able to speak, and I had horrible experiences with foster families. It was estimated that I was around seventeen, and it was pretty difficult to get a good family to adopt me, always ending in abusive ones. Things got so bad that I ran and never looked back. Then I moved around a lot, from shelter to shelter. I made friends in the streets, and I even got lucky enough to get a job. I put myself through school and worked so hard for everything I had. Life got better, and I almost forgot that ugly period of my life. I managed to become a painter and photographer with lots of art shows and a couple of good friends. My boyfriend was wonderful, and I had a cozy studio like I've always dreamed of, but something was still bugging me.
My train of thought was interrupted by the sound of the phone, and, after a good stretch, I was greeted by Julian's suspiciously cheery voice.
"I hope you haven't forgotten about me, because I have a surprise for you!"