Nova Academy

Mental Health

He hadn't had this dream before, but he knew what it was. It was lucid, he was aware, but he couldn't change the course of events and he couldn't wake up.

"Steven." A voice that made his stomach churn and his heart flutter woke him from a dead sleep.

He opened his eyes to see her next to his bed sitting on a chair as if she'd been watching him sleep. Again.

"Hello, love." He could feel it in his chest like he was experiencing it again: that feeling of rampant addiction and frosty rage. "You could have woken me up other ways."

Allison moved gracefully, everything she did was graceful, and crouched near his face. "You're so handsome. It's interesting to watch you sleep, you're so kingly in your resting state." Her tone was not light and sweet anymore, it made him feel cold and starving for her.

She always looked at him like this, like she might ride him or decide to snap him in half. Part of him believed she would one of these days.

"Makes me wonder how often you actually sleep." He turned over to her fully and she kissed him. "So?"

"I don't need to ask for things from you," She reminded him.

"I-I know." He wouldn't let himself feel anything about that statement. "But why are you here?"

She raised an annoyed eyebrow, but a pleasant smile made him shiver. "I wanted to have my fill of you tonight before the recording studio."

He ran his fingers through his hair and sat up, motioning for her. "You're awful demanding for someone who likes to be treated like dirt on my shoes when we fuck."

She came and sat in his lap, peering up at him. "I'm sorry."

This made him almost recoil in surprise, but he kept his body rigid and still. "You're awful sweet today too. What's gotten into you?"

"I dunno, I guess I missed you when you were asleep."

He fought the impulse to roll his eyes. That was a bold faced lie if he'd ever heard one. "I took a nap for an hour."

She didn't respond, only gave him another kiss that made him push his hands up her shirt.

It was often that she was seeking him out. Daily, multiple times a day, he was giving her what she wanted. He always gave her what she wanted. It didn't matter if he was in pain, or upset or brooding, when she commanded he did as he was told.

He was hers to use as many times as she wished and for however long she wanted. She called it training. She was molding him to her liking, and one day she would sit by his side and watch the world burn. He wanted that too; he wanted to watch the world go down in flames. If everything he'd ever loved disappeared, he wouldn't even flinch. He was dead, entirely so, inside and out.

His dream faded into another memory, a nightmare he couldn't seem to escape.

"You're completely pathetic."

Steven heaved a sigh and glanced her way. "So I've been told."

"Why are you crying? You look like a child." She scrubbed the tears from his face roughly and squeezed his cheeks so hard his teeth were digging into them.

"I'm tired. Sometimes I just cry. I... I don't recognize I'm doing it anymore." The exhaustion ached through him. If he could've not survived it, he'd have jumped off of the balcony the second he woke up this morning.

"Well, quit your bitch crying. I'm absolutely famished for you." She shoved his shoulders and he fell back limply.

His hands found his face and hair. "I'm so tired Allison. Please don't do this. Not again," He pleaded, but she didn't listen. He was sure she never did. "I-I can't–,"