|The Touch of Fear
Author: Bajazzo PM
Strange things are happening to Jean. She is becoming more agitated, and starts doing things that she had never done before. What force is pushing her to do so? Rating may change.Rated: Fiction T - English - Supernatural/Horror - Chapters: 5 - Words: 7,920 - Reviews: 5 - Favs: 2 - Follows: 1 - Updated: 12-09-12 - Published: 05-24-12 - id: 3025630
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Jean was still sitting by the window when dawn came; she hadn't slept the whole night. Her thoughts were the reason she stayed awake. She almost received a film of what was going to happen to her, a never-ending nightmare was approaching and it frightened her. "Jean?" Paul asked, his voice rising a few notes. Jean awoke from her personal, terrifying visions. She just turned around and looked at him. There was silence as anger and annoyance swelled within her. She couldn't help but feel annoyed, annoyed that he bothered her like he always does. Didn't he realise how irritating that was? And he always did it: no matter what, and he couldn't see what he was doing to her. Jean sighed with frustration, rolling her eyes. Paul stared at her, astounded: that expression frightened him, this wasn't Jean and something was very wrong. "Are you alr–" Jean's hand waving him away cut him short, and she walked away into the bathroom. Paul was so astounded he just stood there, surprised and hurt. What just happened? He tried to make sense of it but just couldn't. Something was terribly wrong. He wanted to go after her but some force consumed him and made him walk away. The force pushed him out the door, onto the road and his feet were moving on their own, faster and faster, as if running could clear his head, make the problems and hurt go away. This was odd for Paul: soon as he felt something was wrong he tried to fix it, or at least confront it, but this time he felt like leaving it. Strange, he thought to himself but carried on anyway.
Jean heard the door closed and smiled. Finally peace. She went into the shower and let the water rinse all her purity away, it was time to let go of all that she had had before. A short while later she came out, a white towel wrapped around her, just reaching to cover her butt. "Take it off," a dark voice whispered. She came to a halt, holding her breath. "Take. It. Off," the voice commanded, and she slowly unwrapped the towel, letting it fall to the bedroom floor. The voice became something black, with burning yellow eyes, appraising her exposed form. She looked into those burning eyes. It stared back, amused and aroused by the sight of her vulnerability. It moved closer, its shadowy form surrounding her ankles, slowly reaching up higher, caressing her thighs. It formed two hands which appeared higher, cupping Jean's breasts, kneading them softly. She gasped in surprise at the gentleness of this dark creature, and despite its slow movements, the sensation she got was almost unbearable, she could feel herself wanting this being inside her as badly as she wanted to run away and scream, but terrifying as it was, she kept her ground. She couldn't give in, could she? Its hands moved slowly up to her neck. Jean felt like she could trust it, but didn't want to. Not yet. Maybe not ever. Its shadowy hands moved down her shoulders, caressing her arms and gripped her hands, tugging her to a mirror just next to her bed. "Look," it whispered softly from behind her. The voice was otherworldly, almost like it was speaking after breathing in helium, but in a deep, dark satanic voice. Jean looked at herself; her body's curves and her fine build, the swell and fall of her breasts, her petit mouth and soft lips, her violet eye and her white hair. Through the distorted shadow, a smile formed. It then grapped her waist and threw her onto the bed with force and consumed all her body. Darkness fell onto Jean.
Paul arrived when dusk fell around the earth. The apartment was pitch black. "Jean?" he called out.
"I'm here," she answered.
"What you doing in the dark?" he asked, scowling.
Silence fell between them. After some fumbling, Paul found the switch and switched on the lights. "What the fuck?" he exclaimed. Jean just smirked at him.
"What? Don't you like it?" She said with a playful tone, tossing her tresses over her shoulder. Paul stood there with his jaw almost on the floor. He couldn't believe it. No longer did she have the glorious white locks but the dreaded, distasteful black web on her head. "Now Paul," Jean started, "you know it is rude to stare in disgust to someone, especially the one you call your lover," she curled her top lip as she said that, rising and grabbing his face, and bit his lip. He pushed her so hard she fell onto the couch. Jean just started laughing. "Oh, boo-hoo!" Jean whined. "Grow up Paul, it's just a little change."
Paul felt blood rushing to his face. He never felt so angry, so hurt and rejected before. Who was this witch, this whore sprawled on the couch as he had thrown her? This definitely wasn't Jean. Not anymore. His knuckles turned white. He marched up the stairs to theirbedroom. Jean smiled after him and waited patiently for him to come back down, shifting to a more comfortable position.
He came down with two bags completely filled. He looked straight into her eyes, but his Jean was no longer there. He took a deep breath. "I have no clue what's going on Jean, but I really don't like it. You promised me you wouldn't do anything with your hair. I actually don't know who you are at this moment. You're looking at me like this is a joke!" his voice started to rise. He held back, biting his tongue. "I think we need a break."
Jean cocked her head to one side and sneered. "Me too. It hasn't been working out."
His eyes widened. "What? It's been working perfectly fine until you went away!" He couldn't understand this, surely her parents had nothing to do with this, they loved him and he knew it. Something else changed her. He looked at her for a few moments, then grabbed his bags and went to the door. Opened it, but before he went out, felt a small hand on his shoulder, once so comforting. He turned around to face the whore. His face was a cold mask.
Please don't go, thought Jean; the Jean trapped inside her own body, I love you; please, you have to see that this isn't me!
"I bid you farewell Paul, and I am sorry for lying to you, and saying I loved you. I never did."
He almost growled turned around and slammed the door behind him. He was gone.
The shadow released Jean, and she took a deep breath, bursting into tears. Her world was shattered. But the demon inside of her ordered her to pick herself up. "Great things are coming," it cooed. She felt its force pick her up, and drive her to grab the phone. The shadow found the number it was so desperately searching for. "It's time to begin."
She could feel it smile on her, in her. Jean desperately tried to get it out of her by screaming but it just laughed. "Don't be a fool, I could kill you easily, leave you with no life, only a shell." Jean gave up, sobbing helplessly and her lifeless soul pressed the green button.
The phone was dialling Alex.