Warnings: more or less direct mentions of death and violence
The AU is a bit based on the vampire concept, but since it’s not totally that, I thought about putting it under a different label. So it’s not 100% what mythological mares are, but there’s a clear inspiration.
“Who are you?”
“Don’t think. Go back to sleep.”
“What’s your name?”
“Does it matter?”
“Are you going to hurt me?”
“Yes.”
“A lot?”
“More than you could think. But you won’t feel pain. So go back to sleep.”
* * *
You wake up in the late morning; your neck is stiff, shoulders just won’t move the way you want them to, your head is pounding – did you oversleep again? It’s a tricky one. Sleep can be as much of a friend as it can be an enemy. What did you dream about? You feel like something happened ever since you laid down – you didn’t “teleport” into the morning, there’s something you’d like to remember. Did you wake up at night? It happened more often than not, but usually, you’d just check the hour and go back to sleep, and you wouldn’t remember much of it later, anyway. Maybe that was the case this time as well – maybe you were just dozing in and out, maybe there was not much to remember after all, maybe that’s why you’re feeling so pitiful now.
You force yourself up, the day’s routine begins – a bit late, but still one that can’t be omitted. Doing all the small things that keep you in shape, wrapping them up with the breakfast – oh, God, you’re so hungry. You could eat all that’s in the fridge, but you quickly tell yourself that it’s just because you slept so long, meaning your stomach has been empty for longer than usually. It’s not an excuse to eat more, though – overeating, just like oversleeping, will bring more harm than good.
What’s today’s agenda? You can’t recall. You check the calendar in your phone for any details – it’s empty, for once. What a surprise. It means you can relax, maybe get some shopping done, maybe meet with someone – if only that headache didn’t deprive you from any remaining motivation to act.
All you want to do is to lay down and maybe try to wipe the tiredness with even more sleep – will two minuses make a plus? You wish, but your hopes aren’t high. But the headache just won’t go away on its own, what’s better to do than trying to rest it off, then.
You turn on the heating – your body doesn’t seem to want to warm up on its own – and then lay down on the sofa in your living room, wrapping yourself in the blanket. It feels cozy, lying feels natural, the mattress feels comfortable and it takes just a few minutes before you let the darkness swallow you up.
* * *
“Why do you keep waking up? I told you not to.”
Is it really your fault? – that’s the first thought you have. You woke up because something did, in fact, cause you to wake up. How can you be the one to blame?
“Sorry.” It doesn’t sound genuine, but you feel awake enough to muster the small amount of sarcasm, even before your eyes fully open, even before you start to get along with your surroundings.
The living room is the same as you remember it, maybe with the difference of there being dark clouds outside the windows, causing the whole room to darken. It’s warm at least, you think, but soon realize, it’s not just the heater that’s keeping you warm; another body is tangled with yours, lying behind you and holding you, bashing in your warmth and sharing its own in return.
“Who are you?”
“Don’t think. Go back to sleep.”
“No. Answer the question.”
You try to push yourself off the sofa, but the more you try, the more pointless it seems – as if you weren’t meant to be awake, as if you should just go back to sleep and forget anything happened. But you fight this instinct, you kick around until you are free and your body falls onto the floor next to the sofa with a harsh thud. Something hurts from the impact – your shoulder or your hips, you can’t tell for sure. You think you clearly hit your head, too.
“Hm.” He stares at you with disapproval on his face; he’s displeased, maybe even disappointed. You try to get to your feet and flee as soon as possible – fruitlessly, because once his hand reaches and holds your jaw, keeping you in place, the whole strength you had just washes away. The touch is warm. Should it feel as comforting as it does? Probably no. Your eyes slip closed and your body slowly becomes limp again. His hand is all that’s keeping you up straight, your arms fall to your sides, your breath slows down. “That’s better.”
“Are you going to hurt me?” You feel too weak to even say it clearly, but you know he understood.
He lifts his eyebrows, his hand pulls you forward, and you have no choice but to follow for your own comfort. Your neck aches when he tugs your head around as he wishes, placing you where he wants you to be – and then leans in, the proximity closing.
“Yes” he breathes into your face. You squeeze your eyes, fearful and bashful.
“A-a lot?”
There’s a pang of pain in your head, echoing through your skull and weakening you, ridding you off your own existence, the life falling apart, small pieces of your being scattered like shattered glass, the sensations and reality – dissolving and fading into black.
The pain loses meaning, and so does any of your will remaining, the spirit soon loses the fight and your mind becomes as limp as your body.
