It was raining again, big surprise there. It had been raining a lot recently, slamming against his window, the only thing letting him know the outside world was still there. If any of his sense of humor still remained, he’d have laughed at the absurdity of it all. For all his power, he was unable to do anything about the leather straps keeping him to this damn bed, stuck in this tiny room, the sound of the rain tormenting him with its consistency. It was enough to drive a man insane, although seeing as the people keeping him here had already dubbed him insane, they probably didn’t care much.
They sedated him every night, ensuring his sleep was blank, dreamless. He hadn’t figured out if they were doing that deliberately to keep his power dormant, or if they were just jerks. He personally banked on the latter.
Ever since he went to therapy, his life had steadily gotten worse. Struggling to get over the sudden departure of his long-time girlfriend, he had hoped that therapy would help him get his life back on track. What joke that turned out to be. He remembered tracking her down to a fancy nightclub one night, he remembered how beautiful she looked on the dance floor, laughing and smiling and having the time of her life, all because she was free of him. It had been the hardest thing he had ever had to do, but he had walked away from her then, and she had never even known he was there. He wondered how his life might have taken a different turn had he tried one last time to make things better with her that night.
It was that night he discovered his power.
The dreams were so vivid, so real. When he woke up, he could have sworn that they had actually happened. As it turned out, he wasn’t far from the truth. Everything he dreamt came true; carried over to the real world. He had dreamt his dog back to life, and there he was. He had dreamt he could fly, and then he could fly. At first it was wonderful; he finally had the power to make things right between them, to reunite with his lost love. So he kept dreaming, all the while hoping, praying, that that night would be the night they were reunited.
And then he dreamt of her.
Not his wayward love. No it was a deranged manifestation of her, it was the most terrifying nightmare he had ever had, and he knew his power had made her manifest. He had dreamt of an unstoppable demon in her image.
She was strong and cunning, with lifeless eyes lacking a soul. He had tried to stop her, tried to tell someone, but they locked him up, claimed he was insane, and had kept him drugged ever since.
They were late tonight; they should have been here by now to sedate him. He tried to listen for their footsteps but could only hear the rain.
Just then, slowly, the heavy door creaked open, and when he craned his neck to look his eyes filled with dread.
A woman, dressed all in black, stepped slowly into his room, her eyes never leaving his, piercing his soul with their gaze. His body froze, and suddenly he was wracked with chills, worse than any fever he had ever had. It was like the temperature of the room had suddenly plummeted. A black sludge was dripping steadily from the woman and had covered the floor. Now it was making its way up the walls, onto the ceiling, and suddenly the whole room was cast into absolute darkness. All he could see was himself and this creature, black tendrils dancing from her form and moving ever closer to him.
It was her. She had changed greatly, but he knew. He knew that this was the demon he created. And now she had found him.
“His blood granted me his knowledge.” She spoke, her voice like velvet. He could only stare in horror as she sat at the foot of his bed, her hand running absently up his leg, her touch leaving darkness in its wake. He was disappearing, he realized quickly. He was being eaten alive by the darkness.
“I know I began as a figment of your rather vivid imagination, as a part of you. Now I have come to make you a part of me. I will free you from this life, and in so doing, grant you the peace you desire.”
He listened to her, had heard her voice, but only heard her words a moment later and began to struggle fiercely against his restraints. She was going to kill him. He was going to die.
The tendrils tore his restraints with ease and wrapped around his body, pulling him to her chest, like a mother cradling her child. Unlike her hands, the tendrils were warm, almost soothing, and as they rocked him ever slightly back and forth, he found himself being lulled asleep. Not the forced sleep he was used to in this place, but a real genuine rest.
This wasn’t so bad, he thought as he relaxed his body. With one last glance at her face, he found she was looking down at him, smiling. And then he let his eyes close, and accepted the darkness.
His power was hers now, and he was happy to be rid of the burden. Let her have it, let her do with it what she will.
Once The Girl With the Dead Eyes, once The Final Nightmare, and now something even more powerful. Something all together new in this world. Something Absolute.
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