Shattered Image

     Blasting the music from her earphones couldn’t blot out the horror, the sorrow. The covers wrapped around her couldn’t warm the bone deep chill, or stop every cell from trembling. The images kept coming. She wanted to clamp her hands over her ears and scream, scream long and loud. Maybe then it would stop. Maybe then she could sleep.

     The room lay in thousands of shadows, but it couldn’t hide the tears streaming down her face, soaking the ends of her hair, her chest and nightgown. With nausea churning, she yanked the headphones free and huddled deeper into the covers.

     The horror, the shock kept swirling through her head. She thought she knew him, had thought herself safe in the fact that she could lean on him for support, like always. The change that had come over him suddenly, the instant hate spewing forth transforming him into something unknown. Unlike anything she had encountered before. 

     Wasn’t losing her grandmother, her best friend, a few short months ago enough? How could anyone expect her to fake her way through all of this and going to a new school, too? 

The last glance at her phone showed the late hour. Wide awake, every sense attuned to every nuance of sound within the house.

     Pressure built in her bladder. She broke out in a cold sweat. Panic coated her tongue in a metallic tang. She gagged on it, her stomach heaving. Taking in slow breaths, she tried to calm herself, praying that the pressure would ease. A false alarm, that was all. Please, just be a false alarm. 

     Through the partially open door, the darkness loomed still and absolute. The demon that used to be a human she knew and loved slept restlessly a few short yards away. The door to his domain was wide open, an invisible barrier between her and the bathroom. She refused to wake him, refused to face what he had become.

She crouched on her bed in indecision. A snort and grunt from beyond chilled her skin, her heart stuttering in her chest. She waited a beat then two, gauging if the silence reigned again. 

      She scooted towards the end of the bed, inching closer to the door. She hesitated a moment. The pressure in her bladder increased to the point of pain. She clenched her lower muscles, holding the liquid in place. 

She slid the covers free, tiptoed to the door and reached for the handle. A grunt and snuffle came from the depths of the house. Scuttling back, she huddled in the center of the bed, her covers wrapped around her shoulders. Her clammy hands gripped tight around her trembling knees. 

     Tears poured down her face in earnest. She needed to go, she really needed to go! Oh the shame, the embarrassment! Move, move, move! Yet she couldn’t. Every muscle in her body tensed, her frame trembling. 

A rustle in the hallway. A scrape along the wall. The creak of the loose floorboard right outside her door. 

She covered her face, too terrified to look. Breathing heavily, she strained her ears for any sounds. Would he be standing in her room? Right next to her bed? The trembling increased. Would this nightmare never end? 

     Taking in a few deep breaths, she bolstered herself for the scene to come. She dropped her hands. Immediately her gaze sought the crack between the door and frame. A familiar cobalt blue eye gazed in at her, crazed. The nostrils flared. The lips pulling back in a snarl to reveal glistening teeth. 

     The demon was awake. Catching her breath on a scream, warmth pooled beneath her, soaking into the mattress.