Bee woke up to the gentle rhythm of Nze's breathing, her head resting against the steady rise and fall of his chest. It was 4:12AM, and the storm had passed, leaving behind the kind of quiet that felt stolen, like the world wasn't supposed to be this still. She blinked at the faint glow of his bedside lamp, her eyes adjusting to the soft light. Nze's arm was draped lazily over her waist, his skin warm against hers. 

She couldn't help but smile as she studied him—his face relaxed, his jawline sharp in the shadows, his lips parted just slightly. There was something boyish about him in this moment, something that made her chest tighten with a strange, unfamiliar ache. 

Carefully, so as not to wake him, Bee slid out from under his arm. She shivered as the cool air touched her skin and quietly pulled her tank top from the floor. As she slipped it on, followed by her underwear, she found her jeans tangled in the chair by the window. She bent to pick them up, but a quiet rustle made her pause. 

When she turned, Nze was sitting up, his eyes still heavy with sleep but focused on her. His voice, rough and low, broke the silence. 

"You planning to disappear again?" 

Bee froze, her jeans in one hand, the other gripping the chair. "I—" she started, but the words got caught in her throat. Nze's eyes held hers, and for a moment, the air between them felt heavier than the storm had been. 

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "You don't have to," he said softly. 

Something inside her cracked. She dropped the jeans and climbed back onto the bed, her knees sinking into the mattress as she cupped his face and kissed him. His arms circled her waist immediately, pulling her closer. The kiss was soft and slow, like a secret they didn't want the world to overhear. 

When she pulled back, her forehead resting against his, she whispered, "I have to go before morning. If your aunt or uncle find me here—" 

"What's the worst that could happen?" he interrupted, his hands tracing slow circles on her back. "Besides, they'd love you." 

Bee laughed softly, her nose brushing his. "If I were human, maybe. But monsters who've taken lives—whether for survival or otherwise—don't get welcomed into homes with open arms." 

"You're not a monster," he said firmly, his lips brushing hers in between words. "You're Bee. And I don't care what anyone says. I lo—" 

She kissed him again before he could finish, cutting off the words she wasn't ready to hear. His hands slid up her back, pulling her even closer, as if he could keep her there forever. 

But then she stiffened. 

"Bee?" Nze asked, his voice laced with concern. "What's wrong?" 

She didn't answer right away. Instead, she sniffed the air, her head tilting slightly like she was listening to something only she could hear. 

"Bee," he tried again, sitting up straighter. "Talk to me." 

"Shh," she whispered, her eyes narrowing as her body tensed. 

"Shh? Bee, you're kind of freaking me out." 

She turned to him, her expression serious. "Something—or someone—is here." 

Nze blinked, his heart skipping a beat. "Here—where?" 

"Your house," she said simply, her voice barely above a whisper. 

For a moment, the room felt too small, the quiet too loud. Outside, the wind howled faintly, but inside, everything was still. Bee's eyes darted to the door, her muscles coiled like a spring. 

Nze swallowed hard, his mind racing. "Bee, if you're joking—" 

"I'm not joking," she said, cutting him off. Her gaze flicked back to him, and for the first time since he'd known her, he saw real fear in her eyes. 

And just like that, the stolen quiet of the night shattered. 

Bee moved silently, her feet gliding over the floor as if she were floating. Nze, scrambling to catch up, hastily pulled on his boxers and whispered, "Bee, what about my uncle and aunt? What if they see you?" 

She didn't answer. She wasn't listening anymore. Her focus was razor-sharp, her head tilting slightly as if following a sound he couldn't hear. 

The hallway stretched before them, the dim light flickering ominously. Nze swallowed hard, his pulse hammering in his ears as Bee crept down the corridor. She moved with a grace that made no sense, like she belonged to the shadows themselves. When they reached the wooden staircase, she descended without a sound. 

Nze hesitated at the top of the stairs, torn between his instinct to run and his need to stay close to Bee. The creak of the first step under his weight felt like a betrayal, his fear making every sound louder.

The wind outside howled, rattling the windows. He froze as one of them slammed open with a deafening bang, the curtains whipping violently like a warning. 

"Bee..." he whispered, but she didn't look back. 

Her bare feet pressed against the wooden steps, silent as a breath, while Nze winced at every creak beneath him. His hands clutched the bannister as he trailed behind, his gaze darting around the darkened house. 

The moment they reached the bottom of the stairs, the air changed. 

It was subtle at first—a faint hum, like a note held in the back of his skull. The walls rippled like the surface of disturbed water, the air thick with static. Shadows spilled into the room, pooling at the edges, as though the darkness itself had come alive, waiting for a command

And then the front door slammed open. 

The wind howled through the house, a roaring gale that rattled picture frames and sent papers flying. Nze gasped, stumbling back, as the air grew impossibly cold. Outside, the darkness seemed alive, shifting and swirling. A figure appeared in the doorway, a silhouette framed by the flickering light of the storm. 

It wasn't human. 

The figure stood unnaturally tall, its limbs elongated and wrong. Its presence bent reality itself—walls seemed to bow inward, the floor rippling like water beneath its feet. Shadows curled around it like living things, coiling and twisting in the wind. 

Bee spun toward Nze, her voice sharp. "Run!" 

But before he could move, the figure raised a hand. Nze felt a pulse of energy, like the air had been punched. Bee's body jerked violently, her feet leaving the ground. She screamed as the invisible force hurled her backward, smashing her through the living room window and out of the house. Glass exploded outward in a spray of glittering shards, the sound sharp and final. 

"Bee!" Nze shouted, his heart stopping. He turned to run, but the stairs stretched unnaturally, twisting like something out of a nightmare. 

He grabbed the bannister, but the surface turned slick and cold, and before he could get a proper grip, he slipped. The staircase had become a steep, endless slide, pitching him back down toward the living room. 

Nze landed hard on the floor, gasping for breath. He scrambled to his feet, his legs shaking, as the figure stepped fully into the house. 

The air around it rippled, the shadows peeling back to reveal a face that wasn't familiar. 

The room felt like the world had hit pause, like someone had grabbed the air and twisted it until it turned heavy and weird and just... wrong. Chinasa didn't walk—walking would've made sense. No, she floated, like gravity had decided it wasn't worth the hassle of holding her down anymore. Her feet hovered a few inches above the floor, smooth and silent, like a ghost caught mid-thought. 

Nze couldn't move. Couldn't think. Couldn't breathe. Her voice sliced through the stillness, soft and sharp at the same time. It was rich, warm even, like dark honey poured over a storm, but there was something lurking underneath—something sharp-edged and dangerous that made his stomach twist. 

"Who are you?"

"Who am I? I'm the monster under your bed." Chinasa's voice came from everywhere all at once, wrapping around him, inside him, like she was talking straight to his soul. 

Her face—God, her face. It was the kind of beauty that poets try and fail to capture, an impossible harmony of divinity and cruelty, each feature sculpted to command worship or dread.

But her body? 

Her body was a walking nightmare, all wrong angles and ancient, crumbling decay. Her arms—if you could call them that—were skeletal, like branches clawing out of a dying tree. Her skin was paper-thin, stretched tight over bones that looked like they'd shatter if you sneezed too hard. And her hands? Talons. Actual talons, black and cracked like they'd been digging through a thousand years of rot. 

"Wha—what do you want with me?" 

She smiled, but it wasn't a smile. Not really. "Isn't that the million-dollar question?"

Then, with the tiniest flick of one horrible finger, Nze was airborne. One second, feet on the ground. The next, floating like a puppet with its strings pulled tight. His heart slammed against his ribs as she dragged him closer.

Closer.

Close enough to see the tiny, perfect pores on her face. Close enough to feel the chill of her breath, which smelled like roses and death. 

Her lips parted, slow and deliberate, like she was savoring every second of the silence. "What do I want from you, Arinze Nduka?" she repeated, every word laced with a question he didn't want answered. 

It wasn't her face or her voice or even her clawed hands that scared him the most. It was the way she looked at him, like she already owned every piece of him, and the only thing left to do was decide what to take first.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚

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