~Dessa~

When Dessa went inside her house, that strange feeling that she had left something behind swirled in her stomach and ached in her chest. She hurried to pat her pockets. She had her tips, her phone, her food. She would hate it if she left something in that man's car, but she assured herself that she didn't. She felt a little queasy from the sensation, so she put her to-go box in the fridge, blushing at his name that she had etched into it on the ride home. Zaire.

Dessa had never told anyone about Auntie's insanity, the nightmares that Dessa had about faeries, or how she had ended up broke and starving. Why did she tell him, of all people? She moaned as she pressed her forehead to the refrigerator door. It was like he could see right through her, and read every thought in her head. She had felt compelled to tell him the truth, as if all her secrets were etched on her skin as clearly as his name on that box - and because of that, lying was pointless. From the second that she got in his car, she was scared out of her mind, most of all - and he felt it. He made her admit it to him. The confession came out of her easier than breathing. 

"You're right. I am afraid of you."

Dessa shivered again, despite the sweat beading on her skin. She took her phone out of her pocket and tossed it on the couch, peeled off her hoodie and opened the fridge back up to cool herself off for a second. But seeing his name on the box again made her slam the door shut. She had felt other things when she was with him that she had never felt before, and it was so much worse than terror. She felt warm in all the wrong places, and she couldn't wait to get away from him - run as fast as she could - but she also felt the urge to get closer. To trace the tattoos on his skin and that scar on his neck. She wanted to feel that rough stubble scrape against her face as he . . .

Oh. My. God!

She tried to force the mental imagery out of her head as she ran her fingers through her hair. What the hell was she thinking? She picked up her phone and went to her bedroom to lay down. She couldn't sleep at all that night. She tossed and turned and cursed, but she couldn't stop thinking about Zaire, or the way he had made her feel. She felt like he had the power to crush her into a fine powder and lick the dust off of his gloved fingers. That thought made her realize that he had never actually admitted the real reason he wore those gloves, and she scoffed. She had let him get away with it, and answered his  personal question, but he hadn't even truly answered hers. And how was asking about his leather gloves a personal question anyway? Why didn't he tell her? Maybe she could ask Mr. Talon about him tomorrow. If they knew each other so well, surely her boss would know something trivial like that. 

Dessa felt the overwhelming urge to know everything about Zaire, especially his deepest, darkest secrets. She had told him more than she should have, with so little prodding, and that was ridiculously frustrating. She thought that if she ever told someone that she had been brainwashed into being afraid of mythical creatures that didn't exist, they would look at her like she was insane, or commit her to a psych ward. But it hardly phased him!

"You'll have to try harder if you want to freak me out, little doll."

Little doll. Just remembering him calling her that had her wriggling under her blankets, and the memory of it made her cheeks burn like they were on fire. Dessa had a little doll when she was a kid. She would undress it over and over, so her doll could try on the tiny paper clothes she made for it. She would attempt to braid its hair every which way, and she would use washable markers to give it makeup. She played with it until it fell apart. She imagined that a boy would be a lot rougher with a little doll, maybe break it into pieces on the first day. But what would a man do with one?

.   .   .

Dessa eventually gave up on the possibility of sleep altogether once dawn started to break outside her window. Staying up all night made her so hungry that she skipped her typical morning shower, and went right to the kitchen after she brushed her teeth. She popped open the to-go box and put her leftovers on a plate to microwave them. She started to smile again, still so thankful that she had electricity, but then she looked at the box, and the smile died before it fully formed. She grabbed it and shoved it in the trash can. She had spent hours thinking about Zaire, and she was sick of it! Yet, she still couldn't stop. Who develops a crush for someone that scares them half to death?  She was beyond mortified by the concept. She shouldn't even entertain the idea of it. At least the Eon guy seemed safe! When he told her that he thought she was cute, she felt butterflies. But Zaire didn't give her butterflies at all. The feelings he evoked in her were not something that she knew how to handle. 

She ate what was left of her dinner for breakfast and decided to finally take a shower, and fold the clothes that she washed the day before. Once she had finished showering, she was walking to the living room in her towel toward the laundry basket when she heard a weird creaking sound. She froze in place and her heart jammed in her throat. Her front door was wide open and the wind pushed it until the doorknob knocked against the interior wall. The creaking sound was from the hinges. She hadn't unlocked the door yet that morning. There was no way that the wind had pushed it open while it was still locked. Did  she lock the door last night? She knew that she did! 

Dessa started shaking all over and her head whipped back and forth, sending water droplets flying off of the tips of her hair. Did someone break in while she was showering? She wanted to hurry to close the door and lock it, but what good would that do if someone was already inside? Her heart started pounding like a sledgehammer, and she forgot how to breathe. Her phone! She needed to call the police! She was so panicked that she actually ran  toward her bedroom to get to it, but something hard slammed into her and knocked her down. 

"No!" Dessa screamed, but before she could try and flip over onto her back to see who had tackled her, whoever it was grabbed a fistful of her hair and crushed her head against the hardwood. Her vision blurred from her tears, and she didn't have time to cry out before they yanked her up by the hair and smashed her head back down on the floor, knocking her unconscious.

In the black, Dessa couldn't feel a thing. She saw nothing. She heard nothing. There was only darkness. It wrapped around her formless spirit and embraced her like she was loved by it. The shadows told her wordlessly that her pain was over, that she would never be afraid again, that she no longer had to fight to survive. She would never tire, she would never be hungry, she would never feel loss. The promises were unspoken and they seemed like they were truths.

But when Dessa woke, she sobbed bitterly, because they were lies. She was not in the loving arms of death. She was very much alive, and every inch of her naked body was radiating with agony. She was still surrounded by darkness, but instead of the all-consuming black, she could make out the shapes of huge, twisted trees moving away from her as she was being dragged by her hair. She was having that nightmare again!

She screamed, and it miraculously made a sound that pierced through the forest, as she twisted against their hold on her hair so she was facing the dirt. Some of her hair ripped free from her scalp, but not enough to hinder the person dragging her. 

"Scream again, and I will sew your mouth shut!"  A demonic hiss came from their throat - it sounded like two different discordant voices tangled together - and she didn't doubt that they would make good on that threat.

Only when Dessa was thrown violently onto a stone floor and locked inside a dungeon-like prison cell did she let out another blood-curdling scream, because she could finally see who had invaded her home and kidnapped her. The person was not a person at all. At least, at first glance Dessa had seen horns protruding from the man's forehead and serrated claws extending from fingers that were too long, but his form seemed to shift back and forth as she tried to focus harder on him. He looked like a monster, then he looked like a human. He was a faerie that was trying to pretend, or . . . 

Dessa felt stabbing pains in her head the longer that she tried to look at him - like her brain couldn't comprehend which form was real, and which was deception.

"What are you?" Dessa whimpered, her hands clutching the sides of her head while her eyes felt like they might bleed from the strain.

"Keep your eyes closed here, mortal. If you keep trying to see, you will go mad. Or you will go blind."

None of this could be real. She looked away from his constantly shifting form, and instead fixed her stinging eyes on the darkness behind him. It swirled with strange wisps of nameless colors that pulsed and oozed in the air, like how it always did in her nightmares. She had  to be dreaming. She must have slipped getting out of the shower and busted her head open - it was the only explanation. She would wake soon, go to the hospital and get stitched up. She tentatively felt her forehead, and it was sticky with half-dried blood. 

"Faerie does not welcome mortals without the Sight. You are not supposed to be here unless you have been Marked."  

She couldn't even concentrate on the ridiculous things the man/creature was saying. There was still a gash that was leaking warm blood down her face, and she wanted to throw up. 

"Close your fucking eyes, or you will be no good for anyone. I will not tell you again. You do not want to find out what happens to mortals in Faerie that are no longer useful."

Dessa squeezed her eyes shut, sobs wracking her shoulders, and her useless cries echoed back at her. 

"Do not worry, mortal. Without your mate, your life will be mercifully short. Be grateful that you will not suffer for eternity."

Was this sadistic fucking faerie actually trying to make her feel better?!  Dessa pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes, and let out a strangled scream of rage. A vicious growl pierced her ears, right before a loud, raucous clang from the bars of her prison cell. She jerked her hands away from her face, and her eyes snapped open. She saw the faerie reaching through the bars like he wanted to shred her with his claws, and he was snarling like a wild animal before he was yanked back - kicking and screeching - by two other creatures. One shoved him away, and another walked up to her. They all shifted so much that Dessa could hardly make out if the being who was standing in front of her now was male or female.

"His favorite flavor is fury. You should not tease him, especially while you are naked and covered in blood."

Dessa curled up into a ball and closed her eyes again, as another headache threatened to split her skull in half. If she could only wake up - 

Wake the fuck up, Dessa! WAKE UP!

https://youtu.be/lS3q9H5g2WU