5

"Do you often feel angry, Detective?"

"All the time."

Ava sits across from me in my office. She shrouds herself in dark colors like a suit of armor: dyed jet-black hair, awell-worn leather jacket, and grey boots. What is she hiding behind that shield?

Her defenses are up. But like a window with a hairline fracture, I can see a glimpse of light shining through. Exceptit'snot light.It'sglowing darkness. Likea nuclearcore;deadly and beautiful.

She knowsshe'ssaid too much, hercheeks are blushing red. She starts to leave.

But this time, Idon'tlet her go. My hand closes around her arm. She whimpers as I grab her, pushing her up against the door of my office. Her body goes slack as she gives into the pleasure, my hands teasing and kneading at her perfect little body.

I strip away layer after layer untilshe'snaked and exposed. Her breath is ragged. Fear is shining bright in her sharp, silvery-gray eyes. But hunger is quickly drowning it out.

My cock is hard. I need to feelherbody around me like a primal instinct.

But something makes me glance at the mirror on the other side of the room. I see myself. Butthere'ssomething different about my reflection.

His eyes are shimmering blackness.

He opens his mouthandI feel myself speaking—

They thought they could use you. Experiment on your mind like it was theirs to break. But you got the last fucking laugh.

I'mthat beast that still lives deep within you, Jackson. Shut away with the other memories youcan'tstand to let enter your mind.The onesthat are still hiding awayinsideyou,until the day they all claw their way to the surface.

If only you could remember.

If only you could see the blood on your hands.

If only you could see how beautiful it would look staining theDetective'sskin—

My eyes snap open.

I'mbolt upright in bed, my heart racinghardagainst my ribs. ButI'monly met with silence.

My eyes find the digital clock by my bed in the near-total darkness.

1:07am.

Damn it. I exhale, long and hard. It was just another dream. Flicking on the lamp next to me, I glancearoundat my surroundings to bring myself back to reality. The crisp white linens on my bed and the minimalist, modern furniture.

I grab the bottle of pills next to my bedside and take one, swallowing it down.I'vebeen having trouble sleeping lately. When I do manage to fall asleep, these strange dreams keep filling my brain untilI'mjolted awake. I went to see a doctor who prescribed me these sleeping pills, though theydon'tseem to be working yet.

It'sonlygrown worsein the last few days since I met Ava. Nowthedreams are changing.It'snot just images of violence anymore. Nowthey'refull of twisted pleasures.

Since I had my first appointment with her two days ago, Ihaven'tbeen able to stop thinking about her. If this mind of mine is a prison,she'salready locked up in here with me.It'slike the sight of her began pulling a threadthat'sunraveling something unknown within me.

ButI'mnot that person. Idon'tlong to destroy or possess.I'vedone everything I can to hide my scars and make something good out of my life.

I stare at the ceiling, waiting for the pills to kick in and willing my mind to calm down. Tomorrow is a full day of meetings and appointments. I need to sleep.

It'sonly another restless minute before something catches my eye across the room. I step out of bed, my stare fixed on the door.

I move closer. My heart is beating faster.

A note.

Red ink on a torn slip of paper.

It'spinned to the dark mahogany of my bedroom door. I scan the words.They'rewritten in a strange, almost childlike scrawl.

Don't try to hide.

For a moment, fear rolls through me. Someone broke into my house while I slept. Ibegin toreach for my phone to call 911, but something stops me.

No. I have another hypothesis.

Stress can trigger parasomnia, like sleepwalking or performing tasks while asleep.It"sthemind"sway of coping with emotional strain, often stemming from unresolved trauma.

My eyes land on my desk.There'sa page torn from my open notebook. I glance down to see afleckof red ink on my right hand.

Relief hits me, thoughit'squickly followed by unease. In my sleep, I got out of bed, wrote this note, and pinned it to myowndoor. Youdon'tneed to be a psychiatrist to know this is a bad omen.

I need to keep trying to treat myself and uncover my past before this gets any more out of control.

I double check the locks, but everything is in order. Eventually, I go back to bed.

I close my eyes and feel my heart grow slower in my chest as sleep nears.

But then something happens.

The feeling rolls over me gradually. The sensation is familiar but hard to place.It'slike reliving a dream you had as a child. Familiar, yet distant.

I knowI'vefelt it before. But the memories are shrouded in fog.

The sensation feels like a solar eclipse. The moon rises into thesun'spath, gradually blocking out light untilthere'sonly its shadow. The darkness inside meis rearingits head, but Ican'tmove.

It'stoo powerful to fight. The sound is roaring in my ears as my vision dims.

I hear DrBlackwood'scold voice in my ears.

Ready, Jackson? Count backward from ten. Let the sound take you away. And when you wake up,you'regoing to be someone else. Someone ruled by wrath, hate, and lust.You'regoing to be powerful.You'regoing to be a fucking monster.

The moon rises.

The eclipse rolls in.

The world goes black.