Plaguebound

Chapter 30

Tucked in bed, in the dead of night, Elizabeth laid still. Blankets wrapped her body. A soft pillow cushioned her head. It was the most comfortable she'd ever physically been. And yet she couldn't sleep. Something kept her awake. Some strange feeling, gnawing away at the back of her mind. She felt odd, the whole room did. Something wasn't right.

Something was watching her. 

Elizabeth tried to move, tried to shift in the bed to look around, but she couldn't. She was locked in place. Her muscles wouldn't budge. She was paralyzed. All she could do was glance around with her eyes. So that's what she did. Looking up and down, side to side, looking at every single possible angle. But there was nothing. Nothing tangibly there. Not to her knowledge. She couldn't see anything out of the ordinary. But she knew something was there. It just didn't want to be seen. Not yet. Not until it was ready.

Elizabeth blinked. Eyes open, then closed, then open again. And when she reopened her eyes, that's when she could see it. A figure standing in the corner, just behind the window. Shrouded in darkness, the figure didn't have any discernable shape. All Elizabeth could make out was a faint outline and two, piercing, bloodshot eyes. Staring at her. Watching her. Unmoving. Unblinking. Just staring. 

A faint, incomprehensible whisper fluttered across the room. The language was indecipherable. Close to English, but not. Not Spanish or German or any other human language. Not Elvish or Dwarvish, or Draconic, not any language Elizabeth has ever heard. Abyssal? Primordial? Deep speech? No. Something far greater. Something far more sinister. R'lyehian. Amongst the strange chatter, random words would be spliced in. As if Elizabeth's observer wanted her to know something. A threat, an omen, a warning? She couldn't be sure. All she knew was that it wasn't good and was stuck to endure this torment. Die. Death. Sick. Sickness. Ill and illness. Rot. Disease. Mold. Infect and infection. Those were the words that she could pick out. 

Repent.

Repent.

Repent.

That word. It stuck out to her like a sore thumb. Repent what? And why? Elizabeth had only heard that word in religious contexts. In the times when she'd go to church, the priest would talk about repenting for thy sins. 

Sin.

There's another word she could make out. Was this God? Surely not. Faith has taught her that God is forgiving and welcoming. Not this. The Devil? Again, she couldn't be sure. But this made more sense to her. Whatever this entity is, it certainly sees itself as some high holy figure. 

Elizabeth blinked. The figure was gone. Silence. Only the beating of her heart could be heard.

She blinked again. 

The figure was now at the foot of her bed. The eyes continued to stare down at her, high above her head. The entity's body was more defined. Slender, contorted, gangly. The eyes no longer were the only thing bloodshot. Needle-like teeth and claws, and a rigid, spiked spine, all stained red on their shadows and accents. Click. Click. Click. Something in the room kept clicking. Was it the floorboards or the creature? Elizabeth tried to reason the former, but the direction of the sound confirmed the latter. The whispering only grew louder, and the familiar words only became more plentiful.

Repent.

Sin.

Rot.

Suffer.

Apocalypse. 

Elizabeth felt something slither across her leg. Something up her dress, around her thighs. It was slimy, sticky, sopping wet. It latched to her hands, crept up her arms, spread across her back, and wrapped along her chest. Elizabeth looked around as best she could, trying to get a glimpse of what was enveloping her. A black sludge. Goo that stretched out like webs and tentacles. Her heart raced as the substance encircled her neck. Slowly, it tightened like a noose on her throat. Elizabeth's breaths quickened, growing shallower with every passing second.