SWEET DREAMS

Damien

The walls were too fucking white, the air so sterile it felt like it was eating into my skin. Every goddamn thing about this place was designed to suffocate —to bleach the color out of you, strip you down to nothing. But they didn’t know me. They didn’t know the black rot in my soul, the fire burning just under my skin. Two years in this pit of shit, and they thought they’d tamed me. Thought I’d bowed my head, licked their boots, swallowed their pills. Fools . Every second I spent in here only sharpened my edges.

The hum of the lights was a taunt. The antiseptic smell was a reminder of how long I’d been buried alive, but it didn’t break me—it fueled me. Every rule I followed, every ‘yes, doctor’ I muttered, was a calculated move. A fucking chess game, and they were all pawns too stupid to realize they were already dead .

Two years. Two long years playing the role of their broken doll, pretending I gave a shit about “treatment plans” and “progress reports.” Waiting for my opening. The ones who were supposed to free me? Useless. Slow. Cowards who thought they could leash me, that I wouldn’t notice their hesitation. Their betrayal .

But I don’t fucking wait on others. I never have. When the world tries to crush you, you don’t beg for mercy— you tear its goddamn throat out.

And now? Now, it was time to settle the score.

The asshole standing in front of me—he was the first . Smug little bastard with his clipboard and his glasses, looking down at me like I was an experiment he couldn’t quite figure out. He thought he held the power, thought I was just some rabid dog waiting for a cage. He had no fucking clue he was already dead.

“You look proud of yourself,” I sneered, leaning back in the chair, wrists chained, but my grin feral. “All that talk about fixing me, making me better. You really believe your own bullshit, huh? ”

He didn’t respond—he just scribbled in his little notebook. A flick of his pen, like my words didn’t matter. Like I didn’t matter. And that’s when I knew . He had no fucking idea I held all the cards.

I leaned forward. “You think this is over? You think you won? That’s cute. But let me tell you something, doc. Power isn’t in your degrees or your syringes or those fucking pills you shove down my throat. Power’s in the person willing to burn the whole goddamn gameboard to ash.”

He didn’t flinch. He should have. Because I’d already started playing. The guards outside? They wouldn’t be there much longer. The cameras? Blind spots everywhere, thanks to a little improvisation with some loose wires. And this smug son of a bitch? He wouldn’t make it out of this room.

Two years of waiting, of playing the long con. And now, they’d see. I wasn’t broken. I wasn’t tamed.

I was the fucking storm they never saw coming.

I smirked, looking at the man in front of me— he was the second one, the one who had promised me freedom but had only delivered me to this cold, miserable room for another year of hell . He didn’t realize how badly he’d fucked up. His mistake? He thought I was just some broken monster, a ticking time bomb that would eventually go off. He didn’t realize I was the one who held the fuse.

The blood pooled beneath him, dark and sticky, soaking into the cracks of the floor. I stared down at the body, my chest rising and falling, but not from exhaustion. No, it was something far better—something electric . The rush of control , the taste of power , sharp and sweet, surged through me like a drug. This wasn’t just satisfaction—it was ecstasy .

I wiped a hand across my face, smearing blood along my jaw, and laughed. Not a quiet chuckle—a full, manic cackle that echoed off the walls. “ Traitor ,” I spat, kicking the lifeless heap at my feet. “You thought you could fucking outsmart me? Thought I wouldn’t see it coming? Pathetic .”

The smirk stretched across my face, a predator’s grin, as I stepped over the body, the soles of my boots leaving crimson prints in my wake. They’d all pay . Every goddamn one of them who thought they could cage me, control me, betray me .

Now, it was her turn.

Amelia .

She probably thought she was safe . Thought her quiet little life had gone on, untouched, as if I was nothing but a bad dream she’d woken up from. Poor, stupid Millie. She had no fucking clue.

I hadn’t forgotten. Not for a single second in those two years of sterile walls and fluorescent lights. She was in my veins, under my skin, clawing at my mind like a beautiful, venomous ghost. She thought she was free of me, thought she’d escaped. But freedom was an illusion .

She didn’t just see me— she made me . The spark that lit the fuse, the reason I’d become everything I am. Amelia didn’t realize it then, but when she looked into my eyes, she made a promise. A silent, unspoken vow. And I never forget a promise .

The first betrayal had been hers, and I can’t let it slide.

I could already picture it—her wide eyes when she sees me again, the way her breath will hitch, her heart will race. She’ll feel it then, the inevitability of it all. She’ll know that no matter how far she ran, no matter how hard she tried to forget, she was always mine .

I licked the corner of my mouth, tasting the salt of someone else’s blood, and grinned wider. “Oh, Millie,” I whispered to the silence. “You’re gonna feel everything I did. And then some.”

Because this time, I wasn’t coming to play.

I was coming to destroy her. To remind her that monsters don’t just disappear. They wait . They grow sharper, hungrier . And now? Now I was free .

I shoved the door open, the hinges screaming under my force, the kind of sound that cuts through silence like a blade. The air outside hit me like a drug—heavy, raw, electric. My lungs burned as I dragged it in, but it wasn’t enough. It was never enough.

The world had changed while they had me locked away, but one thing stayed the same. Her . The only thing that ever mattered. The one thing I couldn’t rip out of my head, no matter how deep I clawed. She was inevitable, a fucking gravity I couldn’t escape.

And now? Now she was going to feel it. All of it . Every twisted, aching part of me I’d kept bottled up for years.

I leaned against the brick wall, swallowed by shadows, my eyes fixed on her. She was right there, standing in that café, her back turned to the window. The world around her was chaos—coffee machines whirring, people laughing, chatting, oblivious. But to me? She was the only goddamn thing that existed.

She didn’t know I was there, didn’t feel my gaze cutting through the glass, didn’t sense the tension pulling tight like a noose around her perfect little bubble. I watched how she moved, the way her head tilted when she laughed, that same laugh that used to echo in my ears long after she was gone. It hadn’t changed. None of her had .

She was still so fucking unaware , wasn’t she? Still living in that cozy little world where monsters like me were just stories to scare children, not shadows that stalked your every step .

Her perfume was the same. God, I could smell it from here. Sweet, sharp, invasive—it clung to my memory like blood on my hands. I could taste it, feel it thick on my tongue, just like before.

Her smile was the same, too. That curve of her lips, soft and sweet, like she had no clue how close she was to everything unraveling. I wanted to ruin it. Wanted to see it twisted into something darker, something raw.

Tonight, she wouldn’t be oblivious anymore.

Tonight, Millie, I’m close enough to fucking taste you again.

She didn’t see me. Not yet. She wouldn’t, not until I wanted her to. I was too careful for that, too precise. But I saw her. I always saw her. Every movement, every breath. I knew her better than anyone ever could. And soon, she’d feel it— feel me . That pull . The invisible thread tying us together, choking us both in a way only I could control.

Her eyes skimmed the café, restless and searching, landing on faces that didn’t matter. She didn’t know what she was looking for—not consciously. But I did. She was looking for m e . She always had been. She just didn’t realize it yet. Everything—her choices, her life, every fucking step she’d taken—it all led to this. To me .

I could almost hear her heartbeat from across the room, the quick, uneven rhythm like a song written just for me. The tension in her shoulders, the way her fingers trembled when she reached for her coffee cup— fuck , it was beautiful. A silent symphony of fear and anticipation. She felt it, even if she couldn’t name it. That electric hum under her skin. The same pull that burned in me.

I smirked, leaning back into the shadows, my gaze locked on her like a predator savoring the moment before the kill. She wouldn’t notice me— not yet —but I saw the flicker in her eyes, that slight hitch in her breath. Maybe she thought it was nothing. A ghost of a memory. But it was me. I was there, just out of reach, wrapping myself around her mind like smoke.

Her body betrayed her, shivering as if some part of her already knew. And I fucking smiled .

She had no idea, but she was already mine again .

I let the moment stretch, drinking in her tension, the quiet chaos swirling in her eyes. It was suffocating in the best way, thick and heady. I could almost taste it—the sharp flavor of her unease. I wanted to be closer , to hear the sharp intake of her breath when I finally said her name. To see the panic bloom in her eyes when she realized there was no escape .

But not yet. Not now. Timing was everything, and patience was my sharpest blade.

Because when you wait long enough, when you build the tension just right, the moment you strike is fucking exquisite .

She couldn’t feel me lurking in the shadows, but I could feel every inch of her—every fucking detail etched into my mind like scripture. I had been waiting, watching, orchestrating this moment with the kind of care she’d never understand.

She would never escape me again.

The game had begun, and the tension wasn’t just a noose tightening around her neck—it was my hand pulling it, one agonizing inch at a time. Millie moved through the streets like a lamb oblivious to the wolf stalking her, her slender frame swallowed in that coat, her eyes darting around with the same fragile wariness I’d carved into her years ago.

She didn’t know. She had no fucking idea that I was here , breathing the same air, shadowing her every step. For hours, I’d followed her, letting her thread herself deeper into my web, and the anticipation burned in my chest like fire .

Not yet. Not fucking yet.

There was an art to this kind of torment, a beauty in the unraveling. I kept just close enough to drink in every detail but far enough that she couldn’t feel the heat of my presence. Not until I wanted her to. Her little gestures told me everything—the twitch of her fingers against her phone, the habitual glance at her watch, the way she avoided every pair of eyes that turned her way. Innocent to anyone else, but not to me.

Those movements screamed louder than any words: Take control. Take me. She didn’t even know she was asking for it. But I did. I always knew.

I melted into the crowd, just another shadow in a city full of strangers. No one noticed me. They never do. That’s what makes this fun. But Millie? Oh, Millie felt it. She just didn’t realize it yet. Her hand trembled when she walked into a random store. She glanced over her shoulder—quick, fleeting, unthinking.

Inside the shop, she tried to bury herself in the illusion of normalcy, flicking through racks of clothes she didn’t care about. I watched from outside, a ghost in the window’s reflection, grinning as she toyed with the hem of her sleeve, her jaw tightening when someone brushed past her.

She’s starting to feel it.

The pull . The weight of me.

My fingers twitched. The hunger gnawed at me now, a beast clawing at my insides. It wasn’t enough to watch. I wanted to step inside, to feel her body freeze when she saw me, to see the exact moment her fear turned to recognition. To let her realize that she was never safe, not really.

But no. Not yet .

She left the store eventually, her movements rigid, almost mechanical. I stayed in the background, my shadow slipping through hers, always just out of sight. Close enough to feel her, but far enough that she wouldn’t catch on. Not yet .

I could feel the unease creeping up her spine, the faint itch at the edge of her awareness. Her confusion was palpable, delicious . That subtle tightening of her shoulders, the way her head tilted just slightly as if listening for something she couldn’t hear. She was starting to question. Starting to doubt.

That was my favorite part. Watching the realization bloom, slow and inevitable, like blood spreading through water. The way her mind turned over itself, grasping for an explanation, but never quite landing on me. Not until it was too late .

She took a wrong turn.

I stayed still, leaning into the moment, savoring it. Would she notice? Would she turn back? No. She didn’t. She walked deeper into the alley, her steps faltering just slightly as the streetlights faded behind her. The corners of my mouth tugged upward, a grin that felt almost involuntary. She was making this too easy .

The shadows thickened around her, the dim glow of the city barely reaching this far. I moved now, slow and deliberate, each step silent but intentional. The faint sound of her breathing filled the space, quickening with each step she took. She was trying to shake it off, trying to rationalize it away. But she couldn’t.

Her footsteps echoed against the brick walls, loud and frantic, and I matched them, falling into rhythm with her fear . My pulse wasn’t racing; no, my heart was steady, controlled. This wasn’t adrenaline. This was art .

Amelia stopped abruptly, her body stiffening as the weight of the air shifted. I stopped too, close enough now that I could feel the heat radiating off her skin, the static crackle of her rising panic. She didn’t dare turn around—she didn’t need to. She knew .

I let my breath fill the silence, deep and slow, a predator’s rhythm syncing perfectly with her dread. Her pulse was a drumbeat, erratic and loud, and I imagined I could hear it over the muffled hum of the city beyond the alley.

And then, she turned .

The moment her eyes locked on mine, I saw it—the spark, the fracture, the unraveling. Recognition slammed into her like a freight train, followed by fear so raw it practically screamed from her skin. Her face drained of color, her lips parted as if she might say something—beg, plead, pray—but nothing came. Not yet. She was caught in the headlights, her body frozen, her mind spinning, trying to deny the nightmare standing inches from her.

It was beautiful.

I watched her panic build, her breaths turning shallow as she pieced it together. Step by agonizing step. The way her pupils dilated. The way her pulse hammered in her throat. She thought she was safe. She thought I was just a ghost.

“Surprise,” I muttered, taking a step closer.

Her back hit the wall with a soft thud, and I grinned. The flicker of fear in her eyes widened, swallowing her whole, and it sent a thrill racing through me. This was better than blood. Better than fucking air .

“You feel it, don’t you, Millie?” My voice was a razor’s edge, soft and slicing. I leaned in, letting my words crawl into her head, letting them stick. “That twist in your gut. That shiver crawling up your spine. You thought I was gone. You thought I’d let you go.”

Her breath hitched, and I saw it—the moment she realized she wasn’t getting out of this. Not tonight. Not ever .

“I’ve been watching you,” I murmured, my words dripping like venom, slow and deliberate. “Every move. All this time, you’ve been living like you’re free. But here’s the thing, Millie: you’ve always belonged to me. And you know it.”

Her legs trembled, her chest rising and falling too fast. I leaned in until her scent flooded my senses—fear, confusion, and just the faintest trace of something deeper . Something darker . She tried to inch sideways, her body brushing against the brick as if the wall would magically open and swallow her whole.

“Nowhere to run, sweetheart,” I said, my voice dropping to a growl. I slammed my hand against the wall beside her head, and she flinched, her breath hitching like a broken note. “The world’s too small for you to hide. And me?” I leaned in, so close I could feel her exhale. “I don’t fucking lose what’s mine .”

Her eyes darted around, desperate, calculating. But there was nowhere to go. Nowhere but into me . I felt her breaking, piece by piece, her fight crumbling under the weight of it all. And still, beneath the panic, there it was—something she couldn’t kill, couldn’t ignore. A spark of something she didn’t want to name.

“You’ve missed me,” I whispered, my words brushing against her ear like a knife gliding over silk.

She shivered, her eyes burning with denial, but I could see the truth, raw and screaming beneath her skin. She hated me. She wanted me. And she knew there was no escape.

I leaned in, pressing my chest to hers, feeling the frantic rhythm of her pulse hammering just beneath her skin. Her fear wasn’t just palpable—it was intoxicating. I could taste it, sharp and electric, coursing through her every breath. It coiled through me like a shot of adrenaline, stoking the fire in my veins.

I dragged my breath along her ear, my voice a low, venomous whisper. “Soon, Millie… you’ll fucking remember. You’ll remember what it felt like to be mine . To have me buried so deep inside your soul that there’s no digging me out. You’ll understand why you’ll never escape. Why you don’t even want to.”

The words slithered through the cracks in her mind, wrapping tight around her like barbed wire. I could see it in her eyes—that flicker of denial, the last scraps of fight crumbling into something darker. Something inevitable. She didn’t just hear the truth; she felt it, bone-deep and irreversible.

I brushed my lips against her skin, not kissing her, just grazing her with a deliberate cruelty that made her shudder. She couldn’t run. Not from this. Not from me . I’d carved myself into her a long time ago, and no amount of distance or time would ever change that.

“You think you’re free?” I asked, my voice thick with a dark amusement. “You think you’re standing here, breathing, living your little life, like you can just leave me behind?” I laughed then, low and guttural, the sound vibrating between us. “Nah, Millie. That’s not how this works. You don’t get to walk away from me. Not ever .”

She trembled , and I relished it, the way her body betrayed her, the way her lips quivered like she was choking on every scream she wanted to let loose. Her silence was louder than any cry. It told me everything . She wasn’t just scared—she was breaking. And fuck , it was beautiful.

“You betrayed me,” I hissed, my grin twisting into something cruel, jagged. “You locked me up, threw me into a cage and thought that’d be the end of it. That you could wipe your hands clean, pretend I was a bad dream. But guess what, doctor? I’ve got teeth. And I’ve got all the time in the fucking world.”

Her eyes widened, a sheen of terror glistening in them. I stepped even closer, letting the heat of my breath linger on her neck as my fingers brushed her arm. Her pulse leapt under my touch, and I let out a dark chuckle. “Oh, you feel that, don’t you? You’re trembling like you hate it, but your body knows better. You belong to me, and it fucking knows it.”

Her lips parted like she wanted to speak, but no words came. Just silence, thick and suffocating. I tilted my head, studying her, letting my gaze crawl over every inch of her face. The shame , the fear , the flickering ember of recognition —I saw it all .

“You’ve been running, Millie. Running from me. From us . From the things you can’t bring yourself to admit,” I whispered, my voice dripping with mockery and venom. “But running’s over now.”

I stepped back just enough to let my eyes devour her trembling frame. A smile twisted across my lips—sharp, predatory, full of the promises she didn’t want to hear. “You’ll make up for it. Every. Last. Fucking. Thing.”

Her chest rose and fell with every breath, each one more frantic than the last. She was trapped in her own guilt, her own fear. I was just the reminder—the hand that would pull her back to the only truth she could never escape.

Her sin was my gift.

Her words hit me like a blade, but not the kind that cuts—it was dull, blunt, a taunt meant to bruise . “You killed an innocent man, Damien,” she whispered, her voice trembling, eyes full of fear she was trying so fucking hard to hide. “You don’t belong in a mental facility. You belong in prison . ”

Prison? Prison . The word twisted in my gut, hot and raw, scraping against every nerve. I laughed—sharp, wild, unhinged—because what else could I do? She thought she understood. Thought she was the moral compass in a world that’s just rot and chaos. Innocent man . She was so na?ve it almost made me sick .

I tilted my head, studying her, the way her chest heaved with every shaky breath. There was something delicious about that flicker of hope in her eyes, so fragile it could shatter with a whisper. “You don’t get it, do you?” I said, my voice low, crawling with something darker. I stepped closer, invading her space, watching her shrink back like a cornered animal.

“ Shush, Millie ,” I whispered, pressing a finger to her trembling lips. “ Shush .” My voice dipped, sweet and venomous, like poison wrapped in silk. “That man wasn’t innocent. He tried to take what was mine. Mine , Millie. And when someone does that, they don’t get to walk away.” My grin stretched wider, teeth bared like a predator ready to pounce. “They pay. With everything .”

Her breath hitched, and I could feel the fear radiating off her, crackling in the air like static. It fed something primal in me. My blood pounded in my ears, hot and fast, and I leaned closer, my words laced with manic fervor. “Do you know what it’s like to have someone try to rip away what’s yours? To feel their hands on something they’ve got no fucking right to touch? Do you, Millie?”

I didn’t wait for her answer. There was no point. She didn’t know. She couldn’t . “That innocent man you’re crying over? He wasn’t some victim. He was a thief. A goddamn parasite . And parasites deserve to be crushed .”

I straightened, taking a step back, my hands trembling, the rage inside me boiling just beneath the surface. I clenched my fists, nails biting into my palms, a tether barely holding me together. “Do you understand now? Do you see it?” My voice dropped, low and guttural, like the growl of a beast ready to devour. “He had to die, Millie. It wasn’t a choice—it was inevitable. He tried to take what didn’t belong to him. And in my world, there’s only one punishment for that.”

I fixed her with a stare, dark and unrelenting, my voice a razor’s edge. “You don’t get to decide who lives and who dies. I do . And you better fucking remember that. ”

Her panic was a fucking symphony. Every ragged gasp, every desperate thrash, sang to the chaos roaring in my head. She thought she could escape me—thought she could fight. Adorable .

“Look at me!” I snarled, my voice shredding the silence as my hand slammed the wall beside her head. She froze, her wide eyes locked onto mine, trembling, goddamn perfect .

“You’re trying to make sense of this, aren’t you? Trying to rationalize it. But here’s the kicker, doctor—there is no sense to this. It’s just me , and it’s you , and it’s this fucked-up story that was always going to end here.” I leaned closer, my breath hot and sharp against her ear. “You don’t run from fate, Millie. You fucking kneel for it.”

My fingers brushed her cheek, almost tender, if not for the tremor of violence behind the touch. Her skin was cold, but I could feel the heat of her pulse beneath it, frantic and alive —alive because I let her be.

“You feel that? That little drumbeat inside you?” I hissed, dragging my hand down her throat, just enough pressure to remind her who owned it. “It’s mine. Every breath, every fucking heartbeat—it’s all mine.”

Her lips parted, but no sound came. Not a scream, not a plea—just the helpless quiver of a trapped animal. God I could almost taste her fear, metallic and electric, fueling the storm inside me.

Reaching into my pocket, I pulled the bottle free, its dark glass gleaming like a secret under the dim light. Her eyes darted to it, her body flinching before she even knew what it meant. Recognition flared, though—oh, she knew. She fucking knew .

“Remember this?” I purred, holding it between us, the weight of it like a loaded gun. “Yeah, you do. You thought you could leave it all behind, leave me behind. But you don’t walk away from this, Millie. You don’t walk away from me .”

She thrashed then, wild and furious, her body twisting against mine as if she thought she could break free. I let her struggle, let her fight until her strength ebbed into trembling desperation. It made pinning her back against the wall that much sweeter .

I slammed her into it hard enough to rattle her bones, my hands digging into her waist, holding her there like she was some fragile, breakable thing I could shatter on a whim. Her breath hitched, her chest heaving, and I pressed closer, drowning in the chaos of her fear and fury.

She looked up at me, eyes wide, wild with terror. She was scared. So scared. And it thrilled me. Her desperation was beautiful, almost poetic .

I let my lips curl into a smile, one that was far too dark, far too knowing. “It’s not playtime yet, Millie,” I whispered, my voice low and filled with something almost sweet in its darkness.

Her eyes darted to the side, as if searching for a way out, some escape she could take, but there was no way out. Not anymore . I could see the realization hitting her slowly, like a tightening noose around her neck.

“I’ve given you plenty of time to play your little games,” I continued, my voice dark, slow, dripping with malice. “But you don’t get to run away from me. Not now. Not ever. ”

Her breath hitched. Her pulse raced. Good. I liked seeing her like this—so close, yet so far from escaping. The air between us thickened, saturated with tension, fear, and something far more intimate . Her eyes locked onto the bottle, her pupils dilating as she understood the weight of what was coming.

I twisted the cap off slowly, savoring the moment. I could see her trying to gather her strength, trying to resist. It was adorable, really—her attempt to hold on to something, anything . But this was always inevitable. The moment would come, as it always did, and she would slip away into the dark dreamscape I’d made for her. The place where only I existed.

I brought the bottle closer, the rubber mask attached to it hovering just above her trembling lips. “You should’ve known, Amelia,” I whispered, my voice low and thick with excitement. “You should’ve known I would come for you. That I’d find a way back.”

Her eyes went wide, her body tensed, the fight beginning to drain from her. She knew—she knew what was about to happen. And yet, there was nothing she could do .

I pressed the mask against her face, feeling her struggle beneath it, her breath coming in quick, shallow gasps. Her body bucked, trying to pull away, but I held it firm, the pressure gentle yet unyielding.

“Shhh, baby… it’s okay,” I murmured, almost lovingly, as her frantic eyes flickered with panic. “Just let it happen. Let me take you back. You’re so tired, so worn out. This… this is what you need .”

I smiled as her resistance began to fade, her breath growing heavier as the drug began to seep into her veins, drowning out the world around her. “Sweet dreams, Millie,” I whispered softly, my voice a twisted lullaby, sending a thrill through me. “Sweet, sweet dreams.”

Her eyes fluttered shut, the panic slipping from her face as she lost consciousness, her body slumping against me. The mask remained in place, my fingers gently holding it there as I felt her breath grow steady and slow.

Her soul was mine again.

And this time, there would be no waking up.