Enamored

COMES GREAT FUCKERY

Three days had passed. Three days of mental torture.

[name] found it wise to clean her room after the first night of seeing that thing. The shadows that crawled up her walls and flickered in the corner of her vision always looked like it was there with her. More so the coat that hung on the back of her bedroom door, but she never thought it looked like that before.

She didn't leave her house either. There were too many thoughts telling her that someone would be watching or waiting for her to leave, to ambush her when she finally snuck out of the sanctuary of her home; but [name] had never thought these things before. She was content living here, in this safe place.

There were oddities though that didn't make this place safe anymore.

The one time she had exited her front door to get the mail, by the time she came back, the door was locked. [name] kind of laughed and shook it off, and jumped her stone wall to enter through the backyard door, which, thankfully, was unlocked. Another time, she turned off the light next to her bed to go to sleep, and then in the middle of the night, she woke up and it was on. These small things should have been nothing but coincidences if not for the time she saw that faceless creature in her studio.

[name] had been coughing a lot more lately too, pulsing headaches causing her to take multiple breaks while she tried to paint that red nightmare on a large canvas. This project was sapping her of her strength, but she thought that being aware and awake was better than being asleep and vulnerable to these dreams. The majority of the painting was done by now, the scenery of the building degraded over time, broken in some places, showing off an endless sea of red. However, she painted nobody inhabiting the place.

After [name] soaked the red-hued brush in the murky water, she stretched and threw off her apron. It was midday and she was already exhausted. [name] carried herself to her bedroom, eyes heavy and limbs sore. There was no eldritch horror that could take away the exhaustion she had accumulated overtime, and she passed out.

The female didn't dream of anything but was keenly aware of being unconscious. Something was observing her while in this state, but struggling to fight back consciousness was too exhausting. She found the effort akin to her burnout and grimaced; if that was even possible in a place like this.

What place?

[name] woke up on the floor of her studio, lying on her stomach in a shirt she didn't remember changing into. Her hands were wet, and when she pushed herself up off the floor, [name] fought the urge to throw up when she spotted red coating her hands and up her forearms, yet she calmed down quickly when realizing it was just paint, a multitude of reds.

Her mind pulsed with thoughts as she looked up and around the studio where the sky was bright from an early morning. She would wake up around this time, but [name] clearly remembered hauling herself to bed. And she definitely did not remember painting on all these canvases.

There were at least nine canvases and only three on easels. All of them were painted in red paint, some in lighter hues, others darker, some a mix. Each of them was from that same dream, yet in different scenery, some scenery [name] knew for sure existed due to it being so fresh in her mind, but others just...didn't sit right with her.

Did I paint all of these?

She couldn't be the culprit, at least, she didn't want to believe she was. This wasn't bad, but to paint in her sleep was... Indeed odd.

Something rattled and vibrated the desk near the door causing her heart to race. Her eyes landed on her phone which was face down and scrambled over, still delirious. [name] sighed loudly and quickly wiped the wetness of the paint on her pants and grabbed her phone.