Experiment of Madness

13-Haunted Nights-Dag

I observe Aerra's movements as she emerges from beneath the bed, a sense of unease settling in the pit of my stomach. It's late at night, yet there's something off about her demeanor. She looks like she's been troubled, maybe even haunted with something.

I wonder if that pesky voice she'd mentioned was bothering her once more. She hadn't been fully honest about it, not sharing the whole truth with me. It was starting to worry me.

I watch in confusion as Aerra stands motionless in the middle of the room, her gaze fixed on the window. There's a tenseness in her stance, a look of preoccupation etched on her face. I'm not sure what she's staring at, but it's odd, and it's making me uneasy.

I recall the previous occasion where Aerra appeared this hauntingly troubled. Back then, she had been fixated on the moon as well. Now, as she keeps a watchful eye on the moon once more, a dreadful feeling settles in my gut.

I gingerly rise from my bed, trying not to make a sound. With careful steps, I approach Aerra, who is still fixated on the moon. I watch her intently, studying her expression and searching for any clues about what's going on inside her mind.

I step closer to Aerra, the tension in the room thick. I gently break the silence, my voice soft yet filled with concern. "Aerra," I whisper, my eyes still trained on her face. "What are you looking at?"

Aerra doesn't respond immediately, her eyes remaining locked on the moon. It's as if she hasn't even heard me. I take another small step forward, reaching out to touch her shoulder gently. "Aerra," I repeat, my voice firmer this time. "Talk to me."

My touch on her shoulder seems to break through the trance-like state she's in. Aerra blinks, her gaze finally shifting from the moon to my face. The haunted look in her eyes doesn't diminish, and I can tell she's wrestling with something deep within.

I furrow my brow in concern as Aerra utters the words, her voice trembling and far removed from the girl I know. "It's beautiful...," she says, her words hanging heavy in the air. The usual spark in her voice is gone, replaced by a hollow, haunted tone that chills me to the bone.

I nod in agreement, my voice soft. "Yes, it is beautiful," I affirm, even though I can't fully grasp what she means. In truth, the moon looks ordinary, nothing out of the ordinary. And yet, the way Aerra speaks, as if the moon holds some deep torment, makes my skin prickle.

I gently guide Aerra towards the bed, my tone firm but gentle. "You should get some sleep," I murmur, my hand still on her shoulder. "You need to rest."

The question that falls from her lips catches me off guard. "Am I beautiful?" she asks, her hand gently pressing against my chest. But the girl in front of me doesn't sound like Aerra - her voice is hollow, her expression a mask of despair.

I nod in response, my breath catching in my throat. "Yes," I murmur, my voice barely above a whisper. "You are beautiful." Although I can feel that there's something terribly wrong, the words "you are beautiful" roll off my tongue with an air of honesty.

"More beautiful than the other girls"

This is not Aerra.

The question is like a knife twisting in my gut, bringing an unsettling realization. This isn't Aerra. Her voice, her mannerisms, her words...all of it is wrong. But still, my response spills from my lips. "More beautiful than them all," I find myself saying, the words feeling like a betrayal in my mouth.

I grip her hand gently, trying to maintain a sense of calm. "Come on," I murmur, guiding her back towards the bed. "Let's go to sleep."

I guide Aerra back to the bed, my grip still firm on her hand. She doesn't resist, her movements somewhat robotic as she settles onto the bed. I glance at her one last time, her face pale and troubled under the dim light. I hope sleep brings her some respite from whatever darkness plagues her.

I lie there, watching Aerra sleep fitfully. Her eyes move rapidly under her lids, as if she's being haunted by dreams or nightmares. After a couple of hours, I cautiously shift my gaze towards her once more. Her breathing is steady, her body still. She appears to be asleep, finally.

I stand up quietly, careful not to disturb Aerra, and peer under the bed. There, in a heap on the floor, is her sleeping bag.

I rise to my feet and take a fleeting glance at Aerra. She lies there, troubled even in her sleep, the frown on her brow visible even in the dim light. I hesitate for a moment, torn between leaving her undisturbed or waking her up to seek answers.

Looking down at Aerra, I notice a chill in the air. Her skin looks pale and cold. I reach for the blanket, gently drawing it up to her chin, tucking her in snugly.

I realize, with a pang of unease, that this is the second time Aerra has slept in my bed. It's an odd thought, one that feels both comfortingly intimate and strangely uncomfortable. I push the feeling to the back of my mind, focusing instead on her peaceful expression.

I settle into the chair next to the bed and open my notebook. I begin writing, my pen gliding across the paper as I try to remember and record every scrap of information about Aerra that I have absorbed over the past days. I make notes of her looks, her behaviours, her habits, her quirks, anything and everything that might shed light on her mysterious demeanour.

I flip through the pages, my eyes skimming over the information I've jotted down about Aerra. It feels as if I've written down everything possible – her physical characteristics, her personality, her small habits and peculiarities. Yet, somehow, it still doesn't feel enough. There's something nagging at the back of my mind, a sense that there's a piece I'm still missing.

I realize that simply writing down information isn't enough. I'll need more – I'll have to conduct some tests. I run my fingers through my hair, my mind already planning what types of tests would be useful.

As my thoughts drift to the tests I need to run, my gaze naturally moves back to Aerra, who is still sleeping. Her pale face, framed by a tangle of  short messy hair, looks peaceful now. I watch the steady rise and fall of her chest, momentarily entranced by her vulnerability in sleep.

I let my gaze linger on Aerra's face, trying to decipher the secrets that seem to hide behind her closed eyes. "What does your mind hide, my mad girl," I murmur softly to myself, my voice barely a whisper. The more I try to understand her, the more mysterious she becomes.

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