Burn Me Right

Prologue

"I'm scared to close my eyes; I'm scared to open them. We're gonna die out here." — Heather Donahue, "The Blair Witch Project."

The Prey......

The house was battered by loud gusts of wind, warning of an impending power loss. As the violent winds shook the building, the hair on my body stood on end, as if in response to some calling. The faint howling of the wind sounded like ghosts swarming the city on Halloween night. A lightning bolt struck the city, illuminating the skyline in the distance.

Though the rain only lasted thirty minutes, thunder continued to rumble for hours afterward. The windows thudded against the stone walls, their sound more potent than a whisper, and my floorboards creaked as I walked on them, making squealing noises as I stepped on their throats. As their sounds reached my ear, the intensity of my breath increased. I knew I was hyperventilating, but I couldn't help it, not when I could see him through my window, watching me, challenging me.

Holding a candle, I walked closer to the window, grateful I had chosen a flameless candle. My gaze moved to the man standing by my house. He wore a hood that didn't look ordinary, like the hood ritualists wear when they are about to haunt or possess someone, drinking their life away. Or maybe it was a regular hood, but my delusional mind hallucinated, refusing to believe the truth behind the man. Was he here to possess me, or was he playing me?

His confident figure made him look like a formidable weapon. I could quickly outline his body, his muscles bulging as his hands moved, and a part of me wanted to hold on to those muscles and beg for mercy. This was the second night in a row I had spotted him. Was he watching me? Or was it something else? I would be delusional if I thought he wasn't watching me, those beautiful eyes looking at me like I was the only star in his night sky. His confident stance challenged me, his smirk daring me to call for help, make that move, and see what would happen.

I took out my phone and called for help, paving the way to my destruction. And that's how I fell from my grace to hell into the arms of a devil. He showed me no mercy, compelling me to pray, but the harder I prayed, the more he destroyed me.

He often kneeled, worshipping me. At that moment, he looked like a devil worshipping his angel, and I was like an angel being punished for my sanctity. Often, he would call me his fractured angel, but I had no idea why, not until he devoured me inside out. Sometimes, I wanted to give in and become his meal, but I couldn't. He knew he had me where he wanted and consumed me whole until there was no me; it was all him.

I acted bravely, but the truth was he terrified me. He told me he was my protector, but why did he haunt my daydreams and nightmares? He brought his darkness along with whatever demons he was attached to, and they all took me hostage, making me do their bidding.

His cup of life held my everlasting damnation.

I didn't know what kind of hell hole he crawled out of, but he made my godforsaken life a path to my doom, desecrating and shredding it to the last atom.

Every single breath he took, he dragged me to his everlasting hell. The number of times I held onto him, praying for him to let go, was innumerable. Maybe I am just as twisted as he is, or perhaps I like being chased. Maybe I liked being his prey as he enjoyed being my predator.

It was odd how I longed for him like the poisonous snakes beg to be held. I knew the venom that dripped down his tongue would kill me, but I couldn't believe it. He told me I was the light in his dark world while blowing mine out.

But in the end, I wasn't sure whether I was drawn toward his darkness or if he was drawn toward my light.

He said he would make me a queen of his world, a red world. Whatever it was, he bent me into his submission.

The predator.

As I stood outside her window, watching her every move, I couldn't help but feel excitement and anticipation building up inside me. It was always thrilling to watch her, see the fear in her eyes, and know that she was mine and had no escape.

She looked so innocent and vulnerable, with her candle in her arms and her eyes fixed on me. I could see the fear in her eyes, and I relished it. I knew that she was afraid of me, terrified of what I could do to her, and that only made me more powerful.

I could feel her trying to resist me, trying to push me away with her phone call for help. But I knew it was futile, that no one could save her from me. I was the predator; she was my prey, and I would never let her go.

She was so beautiful, with her flowing hair and her delicate features. I couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to have her in my arms, to feel her body against mine, to taste her sweet lips. But I knew that I couldn't have her, not yet. I had to wait, bide my time, and make her mine in my own way.

I had planned this moment for a long time since I first saw her. I knew she was the one for me, the one I had been searching for all my life. And now that I had her in my sights, I was determined to make her mine.

I could feel the power of the darkness coursing through me, giving me strength and courage. I knew that I was the master of my fate and that nothing could stop me from getting what I wanted. She was mine, and she always would be.

I felt a surge of desire and longing wash over me. I knew that she was the one for me, the one who would make me whole, and I was determined to make her mine, no matter what it took.