She Devil | ✔︎

Fifty-eight.

It's 2 a.m., and I'm eating cereal in the kitchen. I'm starving. And it took me 20 minutes to free myself from Kenji's hold while he was sleeping.

was quite hungry and couldn't complete my meal in the restaurant. As a result, I had no choice but to put him to bed and then get up to eat.

Cereal is most likely my go-to snack. I don't eat it for breakfast or anything; I just eat it when I don't feel like cooking.

I put the bowl and spoon in the sink and rinse them.
Before turning off the lights and returning to the room.

Kenji is still in the exact position he was in when I left him. I tiptoe back to my side of the bed and pull the blankets back over my head.

I turn to the side and gaze out the window at the sea. I can't see much but the moon and stars because it's dark.

My source of consolation will always be the moon and sky. It also serves as a reminder that there are wonderful things in this world.

"don't." In his sleep, Kenji whimpers. "Don't murder her," I turn back to face him.

He's had these nightmares on and off for a long time. It's worse at times than it is at others. He never explained what it was about, and I never asked, but he often mentions the name Diana.

Kenji jolts awake from his slumber. Eyes flutter open, and a cold sweat forms on the back of his neck. His entire body is trembling. He seems suspicious and paranoid as he looks around the room.

"Hey hey look at me." I press my palms into his cheeks, creasing them. He looks at me with tears in his eyes, but they go as quickly as they appeared.

He's still trembling and sweating profusely. But he doesn't say anything. As he calms down, I wrap my arms around him and draw him to my chest.

I play with his hair, murmuring soothing words into his ear, assuring him that everything would be well. This is something I despise when it happens. I really wish I could help him fight his demons.

He gets up and leans against the bed board after a while. He seemed to be deep in thought. I also feel helpless knowing that I can't help him.

"Would you like to talk about it?" I inquire softly, and he slowly shakes his head and massages his temples. All I want from him is for him to talk to me and tell me what's going on.

"You may feel better if you open up." I make another suggestion, but this time he does not respond and instead stands up.

"Who's di-" he pushes me against the wall, his hands tighten around my throat. "Enough! I said enough!" He tells, his hold tightening by the second.

My head swirls as I try to gulp for oxygen because his hands are clutching my throat and preventing me from breathing. I futilely clawed at his hands with my nails.

But he merely stared at me, emotionless, and continued to tell. "What exactly don't you understand mean when I say I don't want to talk?" He sneers.

I feel like i'm slipping away, I gasp for air silently. My lungs began to hurt, and my eyes began to bulge.

I pushed him off my legs with all my strength, and he fell backwards on the ground. My vision is clouded by black specks as I collapse to the ground.