Arrange Devotion | SS

Chapter 3. Demons of shadow

"You are safe with me..."

The voice was a low whisper, menacing yet tender, as black-gloved hands traced the trembling contours of his cheeks. Joshua clenched the sheets in his fists, his body quaking with fear.

"No... please... leave me..." His voice cracked, a choked sob threatening to escape as he felt the man's breath on his skin. The gloved hand suddenly gripped his jaw, forcing him to meet those cold, unyielding eyes.

"No! Don't you understand that you are—"

Joshua bolted upright, his breath ragged, forehead slick with sweat. His hand frantically searched the nightstand until he found the bottle, his fingers trembling as he unscrewed the cap and took a long, desperate swig.

How many times this week had this happened? Twice? Thrice? The nightmares were getting worse, more vivid, more terrifying.

If he didn’t sign up for therapy soon, he wasn’t sure how much longer he could take it.

"Ugh..." Joshua groaned, slamming the empty bottle down. His hand dragged through his sweat-soaked hair, the strands clinging to his fingers.

Sleep was a luxury he barely indulged in anymore. When he did manage to drift off, it wasn’t long before these nightmares pulled him back under, wrapping their claws around him until he woke, gasping and shaking in the darkness.

Joshua’s chest heaved as he sat there, his body trembling from the remnants of the nightmare. The room was suffocating, the air thick with the weight of his terror.

He could still feel the phantom grip on his jaw, the way those black-gloved hands had touched him, as if they had left a mark, branding him in some twisted claim.

He shoved the bottle away with a frustrated grunt, the sound of it clattering to the floor barely registering in his dazed state. His heart was still pounding, each beat a painful reminder of the fear that clung to him like a second skin.

Joshua knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep again tonight. The thought of closing his eyes, of letting the darkness take him, was unbearable. He threw off the damp sheets and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, his feet touching the cold wooden floor.

The chill grounded him, a stark contrast to the feverish heat that had gripped him moments ago.He stood, unsteady at first, and made his way to the bathroom.

The harsh light flickered on, illuminating his reflection in the mirror. His eyes were bloodshot, dark circles etched beneath them like bruises. He barely recognized himself anymore.

Joshua turned the faucet on, splashing cold water on his face, hoping to wash away the remnants of the nightmare. But the feeling lingered, a shadow that refused to be dispelled.

As he leaned against the sink, his hands gripping the porcelain edge, Joshua’s thoughts drifted to the idea of therapy. He’d been avoiding it for weeks now, stubbornly refusing to acknowledge just how much he needed help.

But after tonight, he wasn’t sure he could keep running from it. The nightmares were getting worse, each one more vivid than the last. He didn’t want to admit it, but he was scared—scared of what might happen if he didn’t find a way to make them stop.

Joshua lay on his bed, pulling the cover up to his shoulder, trying to drift into sleep. But the darkness that greeted him was anything but peaceful, a void where his thoughts spun without rest.

"Maybe a walk will help," he muttered, slipping out of bed. He grabbed his jacket and phone, sliding on his slippers before stepping out of his house, double-checking the lock.