AkumaQuil

He inches closer, a single finger roaming her heated skin. Breath mingling with breath. 

A loud bang vibrates through the room, so thunderous as if god himself was furious.

Slowly he looks up staring out the large glass windows to the backyard, 

"You have a visitor." His rasps calmly.

"Who?" Rose quickly fires, feigning ignorance. She knew well enough who it was. Her nightly visitor has arrived.

Surprising, He only visits when she is alone.

"One who comes out at night. Lurking in the shadows, in the darkness... just like its intensions."

He looks down still leaning on top her, once more pinning her with his intense gaze.

"Are you afraid?" His voice dead serious, eyes going back to look outside.

And Rose lied, "No." 

But is it a lie when her fear was never really rooting enough to make her run the other way but instead often getting mixed with exhilaration.

"You should be."  

He leaves her staring wide eyed on the sofa and goes to stand before the glass panes.

"It's not happy to see me here. I can see the raging pits of fire in it's gaze. Ready to burn me right where I stand." he chuckled, sounding most sinister, "It definitely wants to rip my innards out."

"You should take off your shirt." He suggests casually.

"Excuse me?"

"Let's see if it riles him up even more to shatter instead of just slamming the windows like a wuss." He rouses under his breath, his excited provocative tone not escaping Rose's attention. 

What the hell is he up to?

"This isn't funny." Rose sputters out, standing up from the couch.

"I'm not trying to be." He faces her again, sporting a deadpan face. 

"Whatever. You think I'm one of your stupid fan girls to take my shirt off just because you want to rile someone up? Besides, there's probably no one outside and you're only making it up to see my boobs like a pervert."

His eyes roams her from top to bottom, there was distaste evident in his gaze.

"When he comes at night and leaves a little something for you, maybe then you take off your clothes for him... like a slut." Rome stared into her eyes with nothing behind those icy orbs to show for a lack of meaning behind his words. Because he means every single thing he says to her.

"Get. Out. Now!" Rose boomed furiously. 

"Whatever, I was leaving anyway. This has become boring." He walks towards her front door.

"Wait. How do you know he comes at night and leaves something?" her eyes narrow.

"Because I've seen it before."

"You saw him? It is a real guy?" Rose wanted to confirm, for some reason she thought otherwise.

"I never said I saw him. I've only seen it happening to someone else." 

"Whom?" 

"You don't need to know." He closes off.

"Then at least tell me what happened to her? Can I meet this person?" 

"You can't." Refusing calmly he was almost out the door when Rose pleads against hope.

"Please."

"You can't because she disappeared." Those were the words that finally did it. Brought her racing heart and buzzing head to a sudden halt. "Never to be seen again." 

 "When he stops visiting, that's when you should be most afraid." His words rang like a siren in the silence of her mind as he left.

Now she felt true fear for the first time.

==

In the embrace of her ancestral town, Rose seeks refuge from the echoes of her past. 

Little does she know, her return to her roots will awaken dormant shadows, shattering ordinary her existence. 

For when the darkness falls over the town, from the pitch black rises a shadowy figure that haunt her nights. 

In the darkness he sweeps her off the ground in terrible fear and the allure of sinister intrigue.

And once the sun comes, a man with a god awful attitude, haunts her in the broad day light. Causing her to swell with pure disdain. 

With each passing night, it draws closer to Rose, casting a chilling spell that both terrifies and exhilarates her.

Thrust into a labyrinth of mysteries can she navigate the treacherous path laid before her, or will her nightly visitor consume her whole?

He Comes At Night

Leo rubbed slow, soothing circles against my back as he spoke, his voice as gentle as his touch. "Rose—just say the word, and I will beat the shit out of that asshole for you. But please don't cry. He's not worth a single one of your tears."

I can see how he must be under the impression that I was crying, my shoulders and arms were still shaking for reasons obvious.

And yes it is true that I felt like letting the dam flow- which I can't understand for the life of me why? I got even, I called him a sorry-ass gigolo too, yet that haven't made me feel better about myself.

The jerk really got into my head this time.

Though, I remained with my forehead still resting over Leo's shoulder. He just doesn't know that I can't cry in front of people. I just can't, it's like a defense mechanism pre built in me.

His warmth was a stark contrast to what I had just experienced from his own species a minute ago.

One of them had burned me with words meant to tear me down, and now another was trying to piece me back together with offers that are sounding too tempting at the moment.

But this doesn't have to blow out of proportions more then it already has.

I exhaled shakily and pulled back slightly, lifting my eyes to meet his. His face was lined with concern, his usually bright expression dimmed with sadness.

"How—how did you know? Were you there too, Leo?" My voice was laced with confusion. I didn't remember seeing him near the bathroom or even anywhere around when I came out.

"No," he admitted, shaking his head. "If I had been, I wouldn't have let him do a damn thing to you."

His words carried so much conviction that for a moment, I almost believed he could have stopped it all.

"I found out from some of my friends. They told me what happened. I'm sorry I wasn't there, Rose. But please—let me help."

Begging didn't suit Leo, yet here he was, doing it for me.

I forced a weak smile, trying to assure him. "Don't worry about it too much, please. I'm okay now." I nodded, as if to make it more convincing.

I hated the way people stared at me, their pity suffocating me. I didn't want them to see me like this, fragile and broken. Hence the reason I can't cry in public.

Some people thrive in public sympathy, not me, I tend to run the other way. I've had my fair share of it growing up with parents that were burned alive in a house fire.

Besides, I handled it. Maybe not as well as I would've liked, but I got my hit in. A slap wasn't nearly enough to satisfy the growing fire in my chest, but it would have to do.

59. Fire In My Chest