his body followed. He felt the winter breeze pull through the trees, cooling the skin as the sun shower fell through the canopy. She pulled him closer, her delicate body pressed up firmly against his. The warmth of the sunlight bathed them, the chorus of nature celebrated. Her lips hovered around the base of his neck, only coming in contact momentarily.
Oh, my God.
Lilyan had not been like this since they were dating. Peter secretly hoped that this was to be a more regular thing. For months she had been distant, leaving him feeling as though their connection had finally dissolved, that was until now. His body tingled with an energy, long since forgotten. He ached for her. Her soft hands ran down his spine, returning upwards again, dragging her nails softly against his skin. They left shivers in their wake, rippling over every inch of his skin. They moved down once more and pain surged through Peter's back. Her nails dug in, each nail scratching a path down his body. His body ached with pain but screamed pleasure, the falling rain healing the skin as it beat down on him. Eyes closed. Each lid was tenderly kissed as her arm moved round his neck pulling him close. Their lips met, parted and swayed with passion. He could not endure the pleasure longer, he had to look at his wife. The sun showers cold touch became warm as he returned from the vision into the steamy present.
Opening his eyes as their lips separated revealing only a shadowy fog. Peter watched as her hands, the only part of her visible to him rose, delicately moving over the sides of his face before gripping them intently. A face exploded from the depths of the darken clouds of steam. Mouth open wide revealing jagged canine-like teeth. Her face was sunken, thin paper-like-skin clinging to the bone of the skull. Its eyes were gone, empty sockets like pools of the blackest night stared back at him. Staggering backward, he slipped. His hands desperately searched in the steamy haze for something to cling to. Finally, they found the soap ledge gripping to it for dear life. The creature launched forward again, the room exploding into light, blinding him. Peter's body fell, hitting the cold wet tiles.
Looking up from the shower floor, Peter saw that the door to the bathroom was ajar. He rubbed the shower glass clearing a path to the outside. It was Lilyan, her head was bowed, hair tucked behind her ear, but he couldn't quite see her face. Yes, it was certainly her. Then who was in here?
"I'm sorry Peter" Her voice cracked. Was she apologising? Peter had never been more pleased to see Lilyan. Relief washed over him as he attempted to stand. He felt himself smile.
“Lilyan…” He adjusted his footing despite his legs feeling weak “It’s not…” Her posture was crumbled, with her eyes staring at the floor.
"For all our arguments…" She continued as though she had not heard a word he said. Peter kept struggling to stand, slipping on the wet floor.
“Lilyan… Please wait” His pleas went unheard as she continued.
“… and how I treated you” The door began to close. At the last moment, she reached up to the light switch, whispering under her breath, barely audible to him. "I'm sorry." Panic coursed through Peter’s veins.
“Don’t turn off the…” His voice raised in a desperate plea. The room went dark. “Light…” his voice faded into the darkness.
Peter reached out, turning the tap, desperately wanting to be bathed again in the light. The rain continued falling; despite the tap being entirely shut off. Peter pushed on the glass door; it pushed back holding firmly in place. As the steam continued to rise from the tiles, he saw the faint outline of a hand on the glass as though it was the cause of the jammed glass door. He staggered backwards. Fingernails danced down his back. He turned quickly. Nothing. His heart racing, he crossed his arms over his chest. His hands gripped his forearms with intensity. Peter breathed in, preparing to scream out to Lilyan, but the inhalation of steam burned down his throat, leaving a fractured barely audible voice in its wake. Shapes and figures appeared like ghosts in the fog, brushing by him before disappearing into the tiles, each sending a chill from their touch that rippled along his skin.
Peter's ankles grew warm. Looking down, Peter noticed the water was rising. Bubbles of water surged up from the drain as though its flow reversed, filling the shower it once drained. He pushed again on the glass door. It didn't give an inch. Resting his forearms against the glass, Peter buried his head between them.
"Just breathe Peter, it's not real." A light touch to his wrists startled Peter, he recoiled backwards. Something bound his hands. It tightened. They became tied together.
Rope? A surge of Pain shot through his skin, followed by another and another as vicious thorns tore through his flesh.
Vines. Only their outline could be made out of the steam. They stretched up from his wrists, rising to the shower-head. They hoisted his hands above his head. Peter attempted to kick the door open, but the vines coiled around his ankles and holding them firmly in place. No movement. No voice. Peter hung helplessly as the ghostly shadows swept past him. The weight of his body pulled at his restrained arms as a tearing pain screamed in his shoulders. There was no more fight in him, panic was all he had left. Ahead a darkened figure stood still, her shape vivid through the clouds of steam. As quickly as she appeared, she was gone. His heart felt as though it could no longer maintain the manic pace that it was running, his chest heaved inhaling deeply, his lungs filled with the stream. His chest hurt.
Behind him, fingers began slowly walking up his spine, the touch soft and sensual. Teasing his senses with pleasure and torturing his mind with fear.
No. Oh God Not Again. She had returned. His chest pondered, recovering from the skipped beat. Peter's eyes darted left to right looking for her. Her naked body slid past his, moving around to be in front of him. Peter closed his eyes, he didn't want to see the horror of her face again. He could feel her breath on his body as she hovered, her lips over his bare chest, brushing them briefly. Something teased his nostrils, faint at first, becoming stronger the closer her lips came to his. An odor like damp moss from dark forest's undergrowth. It was her breath. Their two mouths met again, this time Peter clamped them shut avoiding her passion like a plague. Pain screamed through his body as her nails pieced his back, he opened his mouth letting out a scream that was swallowed by the creature. She had her opening, latching on in a passionate embrace as she began to drink from his lips. Peter felt as though every part of his body was being torn apart, inch by inch, cell by cell. Drained. Skin began to cling to his facial structure. His eyes flashed open, widening to see the woman's skin becoming plump, wholesome. Eyelids began to form. Her eyes flashed opened as she let her grip on him go. Dark emerald eyes looked upon him, they shone in the shadows like jewels catching the light. Peter's head was light as though drugged. He swayed from side to side, possessing only enough energy to watch her. Stepping back, restored, she smiled at him. She was beautiful. He was spellbound.
Who are you?
His heart pounded, slowing in pace as it faded into the cold embrace. The vines released their hold and Peter fell forward, caught by his beautiful tormentor. She held him close to her like a lover as darkness finally covered his eyes, his question remaining eternally unanswered. The beautiful adversary laid Peter's shell of a body into the dark waters. Carefully. Lovingly. It floated for a moment before sinking into the abyss. As the water drained, the once extinguished candle began to glow, its light bringing a dark yellow radiance to the room. The scene of his departure was now empty as if he was never there. His shadowy seductress was gone.
Lilyan sat out on the deck, her gaze falling into the depths of the forest. The light poured down from the half covered moon as the storm clouds pulled back their curtains revealing a clear night sky. The forest was alive, crickets singing blissfully, an owl called out faintly from the depths. A single tear rolled from the corner of her eye as she shifted her gaze to the electric light of her phone. Her fingers tapped briefly over the touch screen before placing it face up on the table. Her eyes returned to the tranquility of the forest. The screen displayed a single text before falling into
the dark like the shadows of the night:
She has been appeased.
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