The Withering

19 | fear and light

Sarah's quivering fingers hovered over the switch, a momentary pause before she extinguished the light. The room succumbed to an enveloping darkness that pressed down on her like a weighty quilt. Each inhale thickened the air, as if unseen fingers constricted around her neck. Despite her attempts to steel herself, a suffocating dread swept over her, rendering her immobile in the hushed void.

The room flooded with light as she flicked the switch, instantly illuminating every corner. The harsh glare of the fluorescent tube light stung her eyes, forcing her to squint against its intensity. Despite her efforts, memories and thoughts crowded her mind whenever she blinked, vivid and persistent, refusing to be erased by mere willpower.

She grappled with the turmoil in her mind, struggling to break free from its grip. Yet, no matter how hard she fought against it, the stark truth remained unyielding. The truth that enveloped her was undeniable – the white dress draped elegantly on her figure accentuated her beauty in a way she had never imagined. From the moment her gaze first lingered on it, a deep longing stirred within her to possess it, to embody the grace and allure it promised. With a determined breath, she unraveled the bun holding her curls captive, allowing them to cascade freely over her shoulders like a silken waterfall. Standing before the mirror, time seemed to pause as she basked in the reflection of a beauty she had always yearned to recognize within herself.

She became entranced by the mirror's reflection, captivated by her own image until a sudden jolt brought her back to the present. The glint of the watch caught her eye in the mirror, reminding her of the passing time. Beads of sweat trickled down her brow, a testament to her oversight. Hastily, she reached for the zipper on her dress, only to find it stubbornly stuck. With a determined tug, she strained against the fabric but it refused to budge.

She strained her ears, picking up the faint shuffling of footsteps just beyond her door, a sign that night had fallen. Hastily, she darted to her bed, flicking off the light switch in a blur of movement. Darkness enveloped the room like a heavy cloak. The doorknob creaked ominously as it was twisted open, sending a chill down her spine. Panicked, she yanked the covers over her head, seeking refuge in their flimsy protection.

Her heart raced like a stallion set loose, thundering against her ribs as the door clicked shut. The air around her crackled with tension, each beat of her heart echoing in the silence. Beads of sweat prickled along her skin, creating a glistening sheen that mirrored the intensity of her emotions.

Alone in the dimly lit room, she faced the sinister presence known as the "Devil." A putrid stench preceded his arrival, permeating the air and clinging to her skin like a sinister shroud. With each passing moment, the odor intensified, seeping into her very being as the malevolent entity insidiously invaded her soul.

Her voice quivered, desperate to escape, yet she stifled it, certain of the disbelief that would meet her words. Panic tightened its grip around her chest, constricting her breath until each inhale felt like a struggle. The erratic beat of her heart faltered, failing to push warmth through her veins. A chilling sensation crept along her nerves, rendering her limbs numb as she resigned herself to the inevitable conclusion.

In a fleeting moment, she slipped into a realm of solitude, where sensations ceased to exist and the void enveloped her in an endless expanse of nothingness.

The gentle warmth of dawn kissed her cheeks, gently coaxing her from the depths of her dreams. As she stirred, a sense of resignation settled over her, preparing her for another day in a realm that felt foreign to her. The lingering presence of the enigmatic figure known as the "Devil" dissipated with his departure, easing the weight on her spirit ever so slightly. Her gaze lingered on the partially open doorway, a silent witness to his nightly exits that seemed to strip fragments of herself away with each departure. In those moments, it felt as though he left behind not only physical imprints on her skin but also indelible marks etched deep within the fabric of her being.

She fought against the relentless stench clinging to her skin in the shower, using every scented product within reach to no avail. The foul odor seemed to seep into her very being, tainting each breath she drew. It wasn't just a physical presence; it felt like a stain on her soul. The marks that branded her were visible reminders of her ordeal, scattered across her body like a cruel map. Despite the pain they represented, she concealed them beneath layers of clothing and behind a facade of unwavering sweetness.