The Floor Creaked
Heavy, sagging curtains guarded the room from sunlight, dust and crumbs grinding under the pressure of her boots as she crossed the room to settle on the bare, dewy mattress. Nika’s limbs felt bulky, and it was becoming more and more taxing to drag that ball and chain around. She just needed a few moments of silence; she needed to be alone, hidden, just for a bit. Her form folded against the corner, her legs stretching out in front of her so that little spackles of debris fell from her jeans to litter the bedding underneath. It’d been nearly a month since she’d gotten any decent rest and it made waves of dizziness pass over her, the world rearranging and blurring awkwardly, funding a disquieting sense of instability.
She could hear the creak of footsteps downstairs, wooden beams shifting so the sound crept up the walls. It was likely one of the other members of the convoy and Nika took comfort in the way it filled the silent void. Quiet was once a prize she strived for, and now, it seeped into everything — decrepit shells of what once was.
“Nika…” The heavily accented whisper shuddered through her, goose bumps prickling at her skin. Her mouth dried and her tongue was leaden. This isn’t real. She swore she felt the icy glance of a finger against her cheek and she shut her eyes tightly, cringing at the familiar voice echoing in her head. “I forgive you… You are the one who must live with it. Every girl needs a mother.” Nik struck her head against the wall behind her, attempting to knock out the ghost of her mother. Leave… me… the fuck… alone! You wretched bitch. She wasn’t sure if she’d actually screamed the words out loud. She wasn’t sure if she’d even been awake. Eventually, her lids raised, crystal hues scanning the bedroom gravely for any clue that someone had been there. Of course no one had.
“Miss me, love?” Bitterness struck her tongue and she had to swallow the dryness, her heart thrashing combatively so that her breath caught in her throat. No. The room wasn’t the same anymore, it was darker than before; flashing images of bodies linked together along the walls, puzzle pieces creating one enormous silhouette with a cracked and yellowed skull, barren sockets piercing through her. She was going mad. She had to be. This was her punishment.
One of the pieces shifted, tearing itself from the mural with a wet, sickening crunch. Despite the rotting flesh and gaping holes where a nose and eyes should have been, she recognized him, even if she hadn’t been granted the hint of his voice. He slithered on the bed, bones protruding at unnatural angles, struggling to hold up his figure. Skeletal fingers dug into her thighs to pull himself closer to her and the rancid scent of death hovered over her, tainting her saliva with acridity. Dimitri. He was her fallen angel and the utter bane of her existence.
“I promised you the world, didn’t I?” He drawled, his voice ragged and desiccated, speaking in their native tongue. “Look around you. Everyone’s dead.” His mouth, or what was left of it, contorted into a wicked smirk before he leaned forward to press it savagely against hers. His lips were more pliable than they should have been, the metallic tang of blood melting over her tongue. You aren’t fucking here. You aren’t real. This is a fucked up alternate universe. Go away, go away, go away…
Nausea billowed in her gut as panic took over, her chest aching in desperation as she shot her arms forward to claw into his abdomen. Her hands sunk into him as if he was made of butter, the pulpy intestines entwining around her fingers before she yanked them out furiously, the dark ooze pouring out onto her clothes.
The sickness hit Nika harder this time around, awakening her muscles so she flung herself off the bed and whipped open a desk drawer to cough up the contents of her stomach. She gripped the back of the chair and sucked in a few shaky breaths to steady herself, hunched over the furniture as she just stared at the wasteful puddle. The sulfur bile had stung her throat, leaving her throat raw in its wake. She smoothed her cool fingers over her neck, feeling the moisture of sweat lingering on the surface before finally turning toward the bed. It was empty, the same as it had been when she entered except for the streaks of mud she’d left.
A fit of manic, defeated laughter rose up and she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand angrily, her eyes falling onto the dusty mirror that rested against the far wall. She strode toward it, squinting at the reflection of herself, tussled and wild-looking. The suggestion of slumber clung to her lashes, but she wasn’t sure for how long. She was still exhausted, still felt the presence of her past slinking in the corners and waiting for her to absolutely lose it. She knew she was going to if she didn’t sleep soon. How she was going to get there, Nika still had to figure out.
Maybe being alone wasn’t such a brilliant idea.
