Bound by Shadows ©️

Lila King

The faint light of dawn creeps into the room, casting a muted glow over everything. The world feels soft, edges blurred, as if I'm floating in a dream. My bed is a cocoon of warmth and unfamiliar comfort, the sheets smooth against my skin. The scent of clean cotton and something else— something darker, more sinister-lingers in the air.
My mind drifts, untethered, through fragments of the night before. The carnival, a chaotic swirl of colors and sounds. The mirror maze, where my reflection twisted and turned, mocking me. The Ferris wheel, its groaning metal echoing in my ears.
Snippets of the night's events rush back, disjointed and surreal.
Was it all just a dream? It must have been.
Yet, there's a part of me that knows better. A part that feels the truth in every aching muscle, every
raw nerve.

The weight of the duvet pressing down on me becomes unbearable.
Slowly, I lift it, the movement sending a shock of pain through my body.
Every muscle protests, every joint screams. It's as if l've been through a battle, and maybe I have. My eyes travel over my skin, taking in the map of my suffering. Knife lines, precise and cruel. Rope burns, angry and red. Bruises in various stages of blooming.
On my bedside table, an oxalis triangularis plant catches my eye. Its deep purple leaves are a stark contrast against the pale wood. A plant I loved when I was younger, now sitting here like a ghost from my past. Next to it, a note. I pick it up, my fingers trembling slightly.

"Until next time, yours truly, your shadow."

A bitter laugh escapes my lips, the sound foreign and hollow.

I trace the plant's delicate leaves, a stark contrast to the harsh reality of now.
The movement sends fresh waves of pain through me. I carry the plant to the window, every step a reminder of my bruised and battered body.
Placing it on the sill, the light catches on the leaves, making them glow with an almost ethereal beauty.
Memories surface, more vivid and detailed. His hands, rough and demanding, claiming every inch of me. His voice, a low, taunting whisper in my ear. I force myself to let it go. It's time to move on.

____________

I'm sitting in class, eyes fixed on the professor's mouth as he drones on about the intricacies of constitutional law. My mind is miles away, drifting into that dark abyss I thought I'd buried deep.

It's nighttime. The house is silent, except for the occasional creak of the wooden floorboards. My bedroom door swings open, the darkness swallowing the outline of a figure standing at the threshold. It's him—the man who haunts my nights, my waking thoughts. My breath catches, and I clutch the sheets tighter around me. He steps in, the dull thud of his boots barely audible over the pounding of my heart. His presence fills the room, an intoxicating mix of danger and raw, animalistic desire.
I should be scared—I am scared—but there's a thrill in it too, a sick, twisted thrill that makes my skin tingle and my thighs clench involuntarily. He doesn't say a word. He never does. His silence is his power, his control. The only sound is the rustling of his coat as he removes it, revealing the taut muscles of his arms.

I watch, helpless and mesmerized, as he pulls something from his pocket. It glints in the moonlight filtering through my curtains—a sleek, cold metal object.
A dildo. My breath hitches, and a wave of heat washes over me. I should scream, call for help, but my voice betrays me. It's lost somewhere in the labyrinth of my fear and perverse excitement. He crosses the room in two strides, his movements fluid and predatory. I'm frozen, my eyes locked on his, trying to decipher the storm brewing in their depths.

Without breaking eye contact, he presses the dildo to my lips. The metal is cold, but the sensation sends a spark of electricity coursing through me. I open my mouth, hesitantly at first, then with growing hunger, as he pushes it past my lips. The taste of metal mixes with the saltiness of my fear. I close my eyes, surrendering to the dark, sinful pleasure. His hands are rough as they roam over my body, dipping into me, surely leaving bruises, exploring, claiming. Why the fuck does this turn me on so much?!
He teases me with the dildo, tracing it over my skin, lingering on the sensitive spots that make me gasp and arch towards him.