The days blurred into one another.
The morning light slipped past the curtains. It was pale and cold, offering no warmth. The ticking of the clock on the far wall kept me awake, but each second carried a heavy weight I couldn't shake off. The air in the house which was once comforting, now pressed down on me with strange heaviness, as if some invisible eyes were watching me from the shadows.
The doctor continued his daily visits. His appearance remained same always the same white coat, the faint scent of antiseptic clinging to him, the same smile on his face. To anyone else, he would have seemed as diligent and kind.
But I knew the truth.
I had seen the shadow.
At first, I convinced myself that it was nothing more than fatigue, or the fever twisting my senses. Yet the memory of it-black, formless, coiling faintly behind him like smoke with no fire - refused to fade. And most of all, only I had seen it.
That was the part that gnawed at me most. If no one else could see it, did that mean it wasn't real? Or did it mean the others simply couldn't perceive it... the way prey doesn't notice the predator until it's too late?
Each time the doctor leaned or come close to me, each time his cold fingers pressed against my wrist to check my pulse, I felt the knife hidden beneath my pillow. It was the only thing giving me courage during those moments. I had taken it days ago, when Selene left it behind after slicing fruit. My hands had trembled then, but now... now I was glad I had it. If he tried something, I wouldn't be helpless.
Or so I told myself.
But when his gray eyes lingered on me a moment too long, when his pen scratched across the notebook with deliberate slowness, I wondered if the small piece of steel beneath my pillow would truly matter.
It was on the fifth night that the nightmare came.
I awoke or so I thought lying in a bed that was not my own. The sheets were rough against my skin. My wrists and ankles burned; when I tried to move, I realized ropes bound me tightly. Panic surged instantly, thrashing against the restraints, but my body remained pinned like an insect under glass.
Then I saw him.
The doctor.
He stood at the foot of the bed, face half-shrouded in shadow, lips moving soundlessly. I tried to hear, to understand what he was saying, but the silence was unbearable, as though the world itself had swallowed his voice.
He reached into the pocket of his coat. Light flashed across the syringe; within, something dark and viscous stirred, nothing like water.
My heart slammed against my ribs as he drew closer, the needle gleaming like a fang.
"No..." I shouted, though no sound left my throat.
He pushed the plunger.
Pain exploded through me.
It felt like every bone in my body shattered at once. My veins felt as if molten iron have passed through them, burning me alive from within. My vision blurred as my my consciousness started to fade away -
And then-
"Aaaahhhhhh!"
I screamed.
A pain filled scream tore through the night.
When my eyes opened, I was back in my own bed, drenched in sweat, lungs breathing heavily. Selene was at my side, clutching my shoulders.
"Lucian! Lucian, it's me! It's alright!"
Her voice dragged me back to the present. I blinked at her face pale, worried, framed by strands of hair that clung to her cheek. Slowly, the room returned. The dim lamp. The familiar walls. The knife still beneath my pillow.
My body trembled as though I was still bound.
Selene's hand pressed against mine, grounding me. "A nightmare?" she asked softly.
I nodded. "...Yes. Just a nightmare."
But her eyes searched mine, lingering, hesitant.
After a moment, she spoke again, her voice lower, almost cautious. "Lucian... was it about the doctor?"
The question struck me harder than the dream. My breath stalled, caught between denial and confession. "...Why would you say that?"
She looked away briefly, then back at me with a faint, sad smile. "Do you really think I wouldn't notice? At first, I thought you were scared of the injections. But it isn't that, is it?"
Her words cut deeper than she knew.
"You're not afraid of the medicines," she continued, "you're afraid of him. Like if you let your guard down for even a moment, he'll... kill you."
The silence between us grew heavy. My chest tightened. How much had she seen?
"And do you really think," she added gently, "that I didn't notice you took the knife?"
My heart skipped.
Selene placed her hand on my head, brushing damp hair away from my forehead. Her voice was steady, warm, and yet... it carried a firmness that didn't allow me to turn away.
"Lucian, I'm your big sister. No matter what happens, I'll always be there whenever you need me.SO tell me, What's going on? "
Her words calmed me. My heavy breathing slowed down. My heart which was beating like crazy also slowed down just enough for me to find my voice.
So I told her.
I told her everything.
About the first time I noticed the shadow. About how it clung to the doctor, silent and formless. About how no one else saw it, and how that very fact terrified me even more. And finally, I told her about the dream the ropes, the syringe, the agony that felt far too real to dismiss as mere imagination.
But I did not tell her everything.
I left out the part of before meeting the doctor, about the shadow figure and my dream I wasn't ready to speak it aloud. Not yet.
Selene listened without interrupting. Not once did she laugh, or dismiss it, or call me delusional. Her hand never left mine, and in her eyes, I saw no judgment, only worry.
When I finished, the silence stretched. The ticking clock marked each second with dreadful clarity.
At last, she exhaled softly. "...I see."
Her gaze flickered toward the door, as if she expected it to open at any moment. Then she looked back at me, and though her smile returned, it did not reach her eyes.
"Rest now," she whispered. "I'll stay with you tonight."
For the first time in days, I allowed my body to sink back into the mattress, though the knife beneath my pillow still pressed against my palm. Sleep did not come easily, but at least I wasn't alone.
I let my body and mind which suffered so much these past few days get a good night sleep.
Yet even as my eyes closed, one thought refused to leave me:
If the nightmare was only a dream, why did my body still ache as if the ropes had been real?
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