Breaking Midnight (Il Paradosso Series Book One)

Chapter thirteen

I ran my fingers along the skin on the back of my neck, going over the letters again in my head. It had to be something in Italian. If only I had access to the internet, it would be easier to figure it out.

I frowned, turning my attention back to the bathroom door and pulled the handle. The banging noises had stopped. This alone, was going to make me place a gun to my head if I had to listen to it, repeatedly.

Every. Single. Night.

The moaning and screaming was one thing, but the banging coming through the wall—every time I managed to get some eye shut, only to give up and retreat to the bathroom—was becoming unbearable.

I placed my head on the pillow, finally allowing the sleep to come over me when it continued. First came the moaning, then the screaming. The loud thump against the wall made me grab the pillow, burying my face in it, muffling my own furious scream.

"You have got to be kidding me! This is the third fucking time in one night!" I yelled, as if they were even going to hear me.

This man was a sex addict. And I was being tortured by having to listen to him banging a different woman, every night.

Has the man ever heard of STDs?
Not to mention the laughing and giggling of his companions that kept me sleep deprived, until the early hours of the morning.

He had to have ruined at least three bedposts in the few weeks that I was here, judging by the amount of plowing that was going on in that room.

I sat up, exhaling a deep sigh while I waited for their final round to end. Resting my elbows on the pillow now on my lap, I stared into the dark room.

Once the noises stopped, the silence took over, pulling me into a semi-conscious state, lingering between awake and asleep. I pulled the cover closer to me, feeling the slight breeze blowing in through the window, which I didn’t remember leaving open.

My eyes fluttered lazily. There was a shuffling from somewhere inside the room and the cover suddenly slid through my fingers, traveling down my legs. My hand raced to grab it, only to feel it slide further away, abandoning my body completely.

The window flew open, causing me to shift to my side and I let out a high-pitched gasp. It was dark, and the man standing at the foot of the bed was dressed in all black, but his soulless eyes resembled that of true darkness.

I wasn't able to rescind from my frozen state while he stood over me, burning what were black holes instead of eyes into me. It was as if he was speaking through them. His mouth curved up into a demonic grin and a dark mass came out from it. He stretched his arm forward and the belt wrapped around it fell loose, dangling from his dirty palm.

His voice was groggy, a gurgling noise rising from his throat. "Your time is up, Adriana. I've come to collect."

                                                               ***

The first encounter I had with sleep paralysis was between the ages sixteen and eighteen where I was waking up at least once a week, drenched in my own sweat.

I could vaguely remember feeling as if my chest was being crushed by a ton of bricks, cutting off my air supply. I learned to deal with it on my own terms for three consecutive years, reassuring myself that it would pass, and eventually, it did.
But never in the entirety of those years had I felt something so raw and realistic that forced me to clutch my chest, screaming out in pain. I could feel the dark mass ripping through my flesh and directly into my sternum as I leapt off of the bed, slumping to the floor.
It had my mind and soul locked in with its demoniacal force.