THE EDGE OF SURRENDER

Amelia

The night was heavy with silence, each creak of the floorboards echoing in the stillness of my house. I’d spent the day in a daze, a whirlwind of emotions swirling in my chest. After I’d gathered enough courage to report the incident to the police, I returned home, feeling a mixture of relief and anxiety. Emily had offered to stay with me, but I insisted I was fine, brushing off her concern. I didn’t want to make a big deal out of this. Even though I knew deep down it was a monumental deal.

The clock on the wall ticked steadily, a reminder of time moving forward, while I felt stuck in a loop of fear and flashbacks.

I wrapped my arms around myself, feeling the chill of the evening seep into my bones. Every noise outside made my heart race. I moved to the living room and switched on the lights, the bright glow momentarily pushing back the darkness, yet it did little to alleviate my unease.

With shaky hands, I poured myself a glass of water, the cool liquid refreshing against my dry throat. I needed to calm down, to remind myself that I was safe here. I took a sip, focusing on the taste, grounding myself in the present. But no matter how much I tried to convince myself, the remnants of panic lingered.

My phone buzzed on the counter, startling me. I picked it up to find a text from Emily: Just checking in. Are you okay?

I quickly typed back: I’m fine. Just trying to unwind. Thanks for being here today.

The three dots appeared, indicating she was typing a response. I set the phone down, pacing the room, glancing out the window as if expecting someone to emerge from the shadows. When my phone chimed again, I picked it up.

Emily: I’m coming over. I can’t just leave you alone like this .

I sighed, feeling a mix of annoyance and gratitude. Part of me wanted to insist she stay away, to give me space to deal with my thoughts. But another part of me craved her company, knowing it might provide some comfort against the ghosts that haunted me. I told her not to come.

Before Emily could respond, my phone buzzed again, this time with an incoming call. I glanced at the screen and felt a rush of relief mixed with anxiety—it was David, my older brother.

I answered, “Hey, David.”

“Amelia!” he exclaimed, his voice tense with worry. “I just saw the police report. Why didn’t you tell me about this?”

I winced, guilt washing over me. “I didn’t want to bother you with it. I thought I could handle it myself.”

“Handle it?” He sounded incredulous. “You’re talking about a threat to your safety! This is serious. You can’t just brush it off. ”

I could hear the concern in his tone, and it made my heart ache. “I know, I know. But I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. I thought it was just a stupid prank.”

“Stupid prank?” He huffed, his voice rising in frustration. “You think a dead moth in a box is a prank? Someone clearly has it out for you. I sent a police officer to survey your house for the night, just until we can get in contact with Ben.”

The name sent a jolt of ice through my veins, the darkness of my past creeping closer. “David, you don’t need to do that. I’ll be fine—”

“Stop,” he interrupted firmly. “I’m not going to let you downplay this. You need to take this seriously. Just stay inside, and keep the doors locked.”

“Okay,” I said softly, the weight of his concern wrapping around me like a protective blanket. “Thank you. I just… I thought I could deal with it on my own.”

“I get that, but you don’t have to,” he said gently. “You’re not alone in this. I’m here, and I’ll always be here. ”

After I hung up with David, the house felt eerily quiet , the stillness amplifying the thumping of my heart. I tried to focus on the living room, grounding myself in the familiar surroundings, but the shadows seemed to stretch and curl like fingers, reaching for me.

I lit a few candles, their flickering flames casting dancing shadows on the walls. I settled onto the couch, wrapped in a thick blanket, but despite my efforts to distract myself, my mind drifted back to that box and what it contained.

I pulled out my phone, scrolling aimlessly through social media, hoping for a distraction, but the images blurred together, each one reminding me of the life I wanted to escape. I wanted to believe that everything was going to be alright, that I was safe now, but the gnawing feeling in my gut told me otherwise. The memories of my past were too fresh, too vivid , and the threat of Ben loomed over me like a dark cloud.

I glanced at the time; it was past midnight. I tried to keep my eyes open, sipping from a mug of tea, but I was exhausted. Each time I closed my eyes, I was met with images of moths fluttering against cold metal bars, the suffocating darkness surrounding me. I fought against sleep, knowing that I couldn’t afford to let my guard down, but it was a losing battle. The weight of the day settled heavily on me, and the moment I succumbed to sleep, I was pulled into a world where nightmares awaited.

?????????

I opened my eyes to a suffocating darkness, the dim light barely illuminating the contours of the room around me. A heavy silence settled in, the kind that envelops you and makes you acutely aware of your own breath. As I blinked to clear the haze from my vision, panic clawed at my throat.

I was in an empty room, the walls painted a cold gray, and the air felt stale, almost as if it had been trapped here for years. I stood up and tried to move, but a sudden jolt of fear coursed through me as I realized my wrists were taped behind a sturdy pole that reached high to the ceiling, rendering me immobile. The rough adhesive dug into my skin, and I tugged instinctively, but it only tightened its grip .

The dim light flickered above me, casting erratic shadows that danced across the walls, and the cold metal of the pole sent a shiver down my spine. My heart raced, pounding against my ribs like a caged animal desperate to escape. I took a shaky breath, fighting against the rising tide of fear that threatened to drown me.

As my eyes adjusted to the light, the details of the room began to sharpen. The floor was bare concrete, cold beneath my feet, and the only furniture was a solitary chair pushed against the far wall.

The heavy door creaked open, and my heart stopped. The dim light behind it silhouetted a figure, a shadowy outline that slowly stepped into the room. My breath caught in my throat as the figure came closer, revealing a familiar face that sent chills down my spine.

Damien .

He walked in with a terrifying calm, the kind of stillness that promised destruction. A large box dangled in his hands, incongruously mundane in the suffocating tension of the room. His black hair fell messily over his forehead, and those piercing whiskey eyes burned with a manic energy that turned my blood cold. The door clicked shut behind him, the sound reverberating like the final nail in my coffin.

He set the box down with a deliberate thud, his movements slow, calculated, predatory. “Look what I brought you,” he said, his voice dripping with a mockery that made my stomach twist.

I pressed myself against the pole behind me, its cold, unyielding surface a cruel reminder of my helplessness. “What do you want?” My voice cracked, betraying me as fear clawed its way up my throat.

His grin was sharp, wolfish, the kind of smile that only promised pain. “What do I want?” he echoed, his tone a mockery of my own. He took a slow step closer, his presence swallowing the air between us. “No, Millie. The question is, what the fuck were you thinking?”

“What are you talking about?” I whispered, my pulse thundering in my ears .

He tilted his head, studying me. “You’ve been bad, Millie. Real fucking bad .” His voice darkened, low and dangerous. “And you know what happens to bad girls, don’t you?”

He moved closer, his breath ghosting over my skin as I turned my face away, my chest heaving with shallow, panicked breaths.

“I don’t want anything from you,” I said, my voice trembling. It was a weak lie, and we both knew it.

“Oh, Millie.” He chuckled darkly, the sound more menacing than any scream. “You think this is about what you want? No. This is about what you owe me.”

His thumb brushed over my lips, rough and unrelenting, the contact sharp enough to make me flinch. His touch wasn’t just invasive—it was branding , staking a claim. “These lips,” he murmured, his voice low and venomous. “They’re tainted now. Dirty .”

I jerked my head back, my mind reeling at his words. “Tainted? What are you talking about? ”

His eyes darkened, gleaming with an unholy mix of rage and deranged amusement. “That kiss ,” he spat, the word dripping with venom. “With him .” His voice turned icy, every syllable laced with fury. “You think I wouldn’t find out? You think I’d let that shit slide ?”

Realization slammed into me like a physical blow. My lips parted in shock, my mind racing to connect the dots. Jake .

“You’re here because of that?” I stammered, my voice rising in disbelief. “Because I—”

“Because you betrayed me,” he snapped, his voice a low snarl that filled the room. He leaned in, his breath scorching against my ear. “You thought you could kiss him and erase me? That you could share something so fucking intimate with someone else?” His tone twisted, his words sharp enough to draw blood. “You belong to me .”

“I don’t belong to you!” I spat, the words ripping from my throat before I could stop them .

The room fell into a suffocating silence, his grin fading into something darker, deadlier . His head tilted, his eyes narrowing as he studied me like I’d just thrown down a challenge.

“Oh, Millie,” he whispered, his voice soft but filled with quiet menace. “You really shouldn’t have said that.”

The air seemed heavier, suffocating. His words wrapped around me like a vice, and I felt the room shrinking with every syllable. “You’re a monster ,” I choked out, the words scraping against my throat.

His smirk widened into something grotesque, something wicked. “Maybe,” he mused, his tone light, mocking. “But I’m your monster. And that’s the part you don’t seem to get.” He glanced around the dim room, his eyes flicking over the walls as if planning his next move. “You think you want to escape me? To run back to your safe, boring little life? Nah.” He leaned forward, his voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper. “Deep down, you fucking need me. The thrill. The danger. Admit it—you crave it like a drug. ”

“No!” I spat, panic flaring in my chest. “I want out of this madness! I want nothing to do with you!” My voice cracked, but the defiance burned like acid on my tongue.

“ Liarrr ,” Damien hissed, his voice slicing through the room. “You can say whatever you want, but I see you, Millie. Every twitch, every shiver. You feel me in your blood, the way I feel you in mine .” His words were both intimate and venomous, a chilling combination that left me paralyzed. “Face it, sweetheart. You and I? We’re tied together in ways you’re too scared to fucking understand.”

I flinched as he reached out, his hand snapping forward like a viper, his fingers gripping my cheeks. His touch was soft, his palm hot against my skin, a violent contrast to the cold dread pooling in my stomach.

“Look at me,” he growled, his voice low and commanding.

Before I could react, he lunged forward, his lips crashing against mine in a brutal, possessive kiss. It wasn’t affection—it was a fucking conquest . His mouth was demanding, overwhelming in a way that left no room for escape. The air was thick with his scent, his heat, his raw, unrelenting presence .

A low hum of satisfaction rumbled from his throat, vibrating through me like a sinister melody.

And then, as suddenly as it began, it ended. He pulled away, leaving me breathless, my mind spinning, my lips tingling with the phantom burn of his kiss. I stumbled back, the cold steel pole digging into my spine, grounding me in the suffocating reality of the moment.

Damien stepped away, his movements unhurried, his unsettling smirk firmly in place. He strolled to the chair, his fingers brushing over the large box he’d carried in like it was a prize. “Now,” he said, his tone casual, almost amused. “Let’s see what surprises I’ve got for you. ”

As Damien pried the lid off the box, the room seemed to inhale, the quiet thick with anticipation. Then, chaos erupted. A violent storm of wings burst forth, a living nightmare spilling into the air. The sound hit me first—a deafening, frenzied buzz that clawed at my ears and drowned out my breath.

Moths . Massive, grotesque creatures, their bloated bodies dark and alien, their erratic flight painting wild shadows on the concrete walls. They filled the room, diving and swirling with manic purpose, their wings beating the air into a suffocating frenzy.

“No, no, no!” I gasped, instinctively pressing myself against the pole, desperately trying to escape the onslaught of flapping bodies. The sound was deafening, a relentless buzzing that drowned out all rational thought. I could feel the air thickening around me as the moths circled, their movement chaotic yet purposeful, as if they were drawn to me.

Damien stood there, reveling in the spectacle. “Beautiful, aren’t they?” he said, his voice laced with a sickening delight. The moths danced in the dim light, casting eerie shadows on the concrete walls. I could feel their presence, a swarm of dark memories flooding back, clawing at my mind .

The words twisted in my brain, but they barely registered over the onslaught. The fluttering wings blurred my vision, and I felt their heavy, furry bodies graze my skin, leaving behind invisible trails of revulsion. My stomach churned as a tidal wave of memories slammed into me—dim light, metal bars, the flutter of trapped wings as I sat huddled in the corner, terrified and broken .

“ No ,” I whispered, the word shaking loose from my throat as the walls of my mind began to crumble. “No! Get them away!” My voice cracked into a scream, raw and panicked, but Damien only leaned closer, his voice a knife slicing through the chaos.

“Feel that, Doctor?” His eyes glinted, wild and shining with sadistic glee. “That’s your past clawing its way back. All the things you’ve tried to forget, buried so deep you thought you were safe. But guess what, sweetheart? You’re not . You never fucking were.”

Tears spilled down my cheeks as I struggled to breathe, each gasp like dragging razor blades into my lungs. I shook my head, batting the moths away, but they came at me in waves, relentless and inescapable. “Stop it! Please !” I screamed, my voice shredded, my body trembling against the unyielding pole.

Damien stepped closer, close enough that I could feel his heat, his presence suffocating. The moths seemed to orbit him, drawn to the darkness that radiated from him like a vortex. “Don’t you see?” he hissed, his voice dipping into something low and venomous. “This is freedom . This is fucking truth . They’re here to remind you—of the cages, the shadows, the shit you keep locked away. And now? Now they’re free. Just like you should be.”

I sobbed, shaking my head violently, my hair sticking to the sweat on my face. “I don’t want to remember! I don’t want any of this!”

“But you don’t get a fucking choice!” Damien roared, his voice cutting through my cries like a whip. His face twisted into something feral, his grin gone, replaced by a seething intensity that made the air feel electric. “You think you can just bury the past? Pretend it didn’t happen? No, Millie. You’re gonna face it. You’re gonna feel it. Because you can’t run from who you are. ”

The moths seemed to respond to his words, their frenzied movements growing wilder, their dark bodies brushing against my arms, my face. Each touch sent a fresh wave of horror through me, until I was shaking, breaking, unraveling under the weight of it all.

“Damien,” I whimpered, my voice barely a whisper. “Please… you’re hurting me.”

He stepped back, tilting his head like he was studying a piece of art. His grin returned, slow and sinister, curling across his lips like smoke. “ Hurt you?” he said, his tone mockingly soft. “Millie, this isn’t hurt. You’ve gotta walk through the fucking dark to get to the light. And trust me—” he gestured to the swarm still circling like a living nightmare—“the dark isn’t going anywhere. So, stop running. ”

He reached out, his hand steady, deliberate. His fingers brushed my cheek, and I flinched at the contact, but the jolt that coursed through me was worse than fear. It was something darker. Something I hated. Something I wanted .

“Let go of the past,” Damien said, his voice dripping with an unnatural calm, a sharp contrast to the manic energy crackling in the air around us. His thumb dragged over my skin, a slow, possessive caress. “Only then can you be free. You want to be free, don’t you, Millie?”

A shiver raced down my spine, and I cursed myself for the betrayal of my own body. “Yes,” I choked out, my voice weak, useless against the storm of his presence.

His lips hovered a breath away from mine, and I turned my head sharply, desperate to deny him. But Damien wasn’t a man who took no for an answer. His grip tightened, dragging my face back to meet his gaze.

“You’re so fucking beautiful when you’re afraid,” he hissed, his eyes narrowing as he studied. “But it’s not fear , is it? Not really. It’s that tiny little part of you—that dark part—that likes this. That likes me .”

I opened my mouth to protest, to scream, to do anything, but the words died on my tongue as his lips crashed into mine. The kiss was savage , consuming , a collision of pain and heat and suffocating need. It wasn’t a kiss; it was a war , and I was losing.

He pulled back just enough to speak, his lips still brushing mine. “ Feel that?” he growled, his voice hoarse and wild. “That’s the truth. That’s what it’s like when you stop pretending, Millie. That’s what freedom fucking tastes like.”

The moths swarmed closer, their wings brushing against my skin like whispers of ghosts, amplifying the electric chaos in the room. I was trapped between them and Damien, between terror and desire , between who I was and what he was trying to make me become.

The air crackled with tension, thick and suffocating, as his fingers skimmed down the column of my neck, tracing a line to my collarbone with deliberate, maddening precision. My body was a traitor , igniting under his touch, heat pooling low in my stomach in ways that I loathed—and craved.

“Amelia,” Damien breathed, his voice like a growl, raw and unhinged. His eyes burned into mine with an intensity that made my pulse stutter. “You feel it, don’t you? That little ember inside you. The one you’ve been choking out for years. Let it fucking burn .” He leaned in closer, the warmth of his breath brushing against my lips, and my heart thundered in response. “Let go of the past. Fuck your rules. Fuck your guilt. Feel .”

Before I could muster a response, he crushed his lips to mine, and the world shattered. The kiss wasn’t gentle or tender—it was a brutal claim, a storm that devoured me whole. His teeth grazed my lower lip, and I gasped, granting him entrance. The moment his tongue invaded, I felt like I was drowning in him—his taste , his scent , his heat . I fought at first, but he didn’t budge. His hands found my waist, gripping with bruising force, pulling me flush against him.

My knees buckled, my breaths came short, and an unbearable warmth spread through me as his hands roamed. One hand slipped under the hem of my cami, his palm rough against my skin as it trailed upward, deliberate and torturous . My mind raced with every reason this was wrong , but my body melted under the searing intensity of his touch.

My breaths came in sharp, shallow gasps as his hand moved higher, cupping my breast through the thin fabric of my bra. His thumb rolled over my nipple, and I bit my lip to keep from crying out. The conflict inside me was unbearable—fear, shame, and something darkly thrilling that I couldn’t shake.

“Feel that?” he murmured, his lips brushing against my neck as he spoke. “That’s your body telling the truth. Not that sanctimonious little head of yours. Your body knows exactly what it wants.”

Before I could answer, his lips crushed mine again, harder this time, all-consuming. I gasped into his mouth as his hand slid lower, slipping beneath the waistband of my shorts. Every nerve in my body lit up as his fingers found my most vulnerable place, stroking with an unrelenting rhythm that left me gasping.

His fingers worked with agonizing precision, and my breath hitched, my knees threatening to give out entirely. “That’s it, baby,” he purred, his voice low and sinful. “Let go. Stop fighting what you want. Stop pretending you’re not just like me.”

I hated him. I hated him for what he was making me feel. But more than that, I hated myself —for the way my body betrayed me, for the way I clung to him as the world spun out of control.

The darkness he promised wasn’t just his. It was mine too. And it was swallowing me whole.

The world blurred into nothing but Damien —his touch, his voice, his madness consuming every corner of my mind. His lips left mine, leaving a trail of heat that burned down to the pit of my stomach. His whiskey eyes locked onto mine, alight with something feral. The kind of intensity that didn’t just look at you—it stripped you, flaying every wall, every defense, until all that remained was raw, trembling vulnerability.

“I want you to feel everything ,” he growled, his voice low and fractured, like a storm barely contained. “Every. Fucking. Moment.” His lips curled into a dark grin, one that promised ruin. “Let go of those chains, Millie. Let me show you how much sweeter it is to fall.”

Before I could even breathe , his hand slid lower, fingers parting me with cruel precision. The first thrust of his finger into me tore a gasp from my lips, my back arching violently against him. He watched me, his head tilting slightly, like he was studying the exact moment I broke.

“ Fuck ,” he rasped, his voice dripping with lust. “You’re so fucking tight . Makes me wonder…” He leaned in, his breath hot against my ear. “Think this little pussy can take my cock? Or will you fucking shatter under me?”

My mouth opened, but no sound came out, just ragged breaths as his finger slid deeper, curling in ways that unraveled me. My body betrayed me, hips bucking against his hand, even as my mind screamed for control. Another finger joined the first, and I let out a moan I couldn’t stifle .

“There it is,” Damien hissed, his lips curling back in a wicked grin. “That sound . That’s the truth, Millie. That’s you surrendering, whether you want to admit it or not.” His free hand moved to my throat, fingers curling around it in a grip that wasn’t quite tight enough to cut off air, but enough to claim me, to remind me that I wasn’t in control.

His gaze bore into mine, and for a moment, the world narrowed to nothing but those eyes —wild and consuming, their depths promising both destruction and salvation. His palm began slapping against my clit with every thrust, the sharp sting mixing with the unbearable heat pooling in my core. Each movement was precise, relentless, a calculated assault designed to unravel me piece by piece.

“You feel that?” he growled, his lips brushing against mine as he spoke. “That’s me, fucking the truth into you. You’ve been running from this—running from me —but it ends here, Millie. You can’t fucking escape it anymore.”

“ P-please ,” I managed to gasp, the word barely audible over the pounding in my chest. His grip on my throat tightened slightly, cutting off any follow-up plea. His expression darkened, a glint of twisted satisfaction sparking in his eyes .

“Please?” he echoed mockingly, his voice dripping with condescension. “That’s all you’ve got? Fucking pathetic . If you want something, you beg for it.”

I bit my lip, my pride warring with the molten desire he’d stoked to unbearable heights. My body trembled, caught between resistance and surrender, but his hand slowed, torturously dragging out every movement until it was maddening.

“ Say it,” Damien demanded, his voice a dangerous growl. “Fucking say it, Amelia, or I’ll stop right now and leave you drowning in this need.”

“Please!” I cried out, my voice breaking. “Please, Damien. Make me—make me come .”

His grin widened, and the low, satisfied groan he let out was animalistic, primal . “That’s my fucking girl,” he hissed. His fingers plunged deeper, harder, and a third joined the others, stretching me in a way that made me see stars. “Now give it to me. Come for me, Millie. Make a goddamn mess all over my hand. ”

The fire inside me exploded, a violent, uncontrollable release that tore a scream from my throat. My back arched, my vision blurred, and all I could hear was his voice, low and commanding, grounding me in the chaos.

“That’s it, baby,” Damien growled, his breath hot against my ear as I shuddered against him. “You’re mine now. Every fucking piece of you.”

As the last waves of pleasure coursed through me, I collapsed against him, trembling, knowing he’d just claimed a part of me I’d never get back.