Dark Path to Heaven [Demon Romance]

Chapter 40

Chapter Music: "Ravenville" by Derek & Brandon Fiechter 

I want to sleep in...

But I feel like I shouldn't.

I opened my eyes groggily and reached for my cell phone on the nightstand to check the time.

6:30 am., huh. I fell asleep only a couple of hours ago.

"What the...?" I mumbled to myself.

I had no reason to be up so early. Had I woken up from a nightmare? But I almost never remember my dreams. It must have been true, though. I felt awful.

I avoided thinking of what could have scared me awake, afraid that it would be related to the one thing I feared the most: death. I decided to go back to sleep, hoping that the foreboding would lift from me if I rested some more.

As I shifted under my duvet, I sensed quite an unusual dampness between my legs. But that wasn't all. I realized I was completely naked.

Okay, Sophia, I thought wide-eyed. You've flirted with the dark side long enough. It's only natural that you're now losing your mind.

I'd definitely masturbated last night. But I'd never sleep without my underwear.

Willing myself to stand up, I headed straight to the bathroom and into the shower. I impatiently opened the faucet and started rinsing myself clean.

Are my eyes deceiving me? For a moment, I thought the water flowing down the drain was colored grey. I blinked again and, of course, it was back to normal. I turned the faucet off and started inspecting my genitals.

Damn. There were indeed traces of dark grey fluid there –somewhat sticky too. It couldn't be that I was sick. Without thinking, I rushed back to my bedroom and checked my bed sheets.

My breath hitched.

Dark grey stains –almost black. Blood red stains too. Many of them.

...What the hell is wrong with me?

When I impatiently sniffed the darkest spot, it really smelled like cum.

Something was terribly wrong. I clasped my head in my hands, already feeling the pain throbbing against my palms. I should not panic yet; not before I find out as much as I can.

I walked back to the bathroom, breathing sharply. My eyes shifted to my reflection in the large mirror, almost expecting a clue of my peculiar condition to be there.

And I was right. The first thing I saw was a thin black necklace I didn't remember buying. I practically never wore jewelry anyway.

My gaze didn't stay there long, though. I soon noticed that each of my hips had one... two... three... four... five fresh wounds on it. By the looks of it, I was pierced rather badly. Yet it doesn't hurt.

I took a deep breath, shivering. I didn't remember anything. Why? Nothing out of the ordinary had happened recently. The same peaceful routine. So why had my mind and body been messed up like this?!

I reluctantly lowered a hand to softly touch one of the cuts.

There was no pain indeed. Only dried blood. Only when I pressed a little harder did I feel a sharp tingle. It was as though the pain had somehow been... numbed.

But, most importantly, there was something about those wounds I couldn't quite overlook: The pattern those marks formed as they spread across my skin made them look like someone was clutching me from both sides, trapping me in place from behind.