Horns

I jolt awake at the sound of my door locking shut. I slowly crawl out of bed and try to see despite the low light. It is shut. I vividly remember keeping it open. I walk towards it and wrap my fingers on the doorknob. I immediately jerk back―it’s hot, like it had been exposed to fire.   How could that happen? I take a deep breath. There’s no smoky smell, only the faint scent of peppermint. Wait―peppermint?   A movement on my right caught my eye. I swiftly turn around and switch the lights on. A man is in my room! The panic drives me to scream. My hand immediately goes to my throat when all that came out was a tiny squeak. I try to scream again. There’s nothing coming out. What the hell is happening? I have to get out of here. I turn and twist the doorknob, pulling it back. Desperation claws its way out of my throat when the door doesn’t budge.    I face the man again. He’s staring at me passively. His dark hair is messy as if he’d just woken up, his grey eyes are pensive―openly regarding me from head to toe. I press my back against the hard and cold door. I need an escape. I eye the door leading to the bathroom. It would take me just seconds to get there and lock the door, then jump out of the window. I could try that.   “Don’t even try,” the man speaks, and his voice sends shivers down my spine―not the good kind. It’s so deep, husky. I freeze on the spot. Who is he? Why is he in my room? I let my eyes drift towards the bathroom door again. It’s open, just a few feet away from me. I’m sure I can get there before he can reach me.    I watch the man, and he’s looking at me right back. Heavens, help. I let out a deep breath before bolting towards the bathroom. He doesn’t even chase after me. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him wave his hand, and suddenly, my body is thrown across the room and banged against the hard wall above my headboard. How . . .  I am frozen. I can’t speak. I can’t scream. I can’t move. I’m helpless.   He slowly walks towards me, my skin is on fire, and my heart is beating wildly. Does he know I’m scared? Tears well up to my eyes when he climbs my bed and comes face to face with me. What’s he going to do? I can feel my mind coming close to a shutdown. I will not survive this. Katie. . .   I’m breathing harshly now, almost panting. He tilts his head to the side, assessing my face up close. He moves closer and I could not help it. Tears immediately come running down my cheeks.   “You humans are so weak.” He spits the word like its poison. “No wonder you’re so easy to manipulate.” Then he shakes his head and chuckles. “The mind is willing, but the flesh is weak,” he laughs mockingly. Who is he? Is he supernatural? I shake the thought out of my head. He can’t be. They aren’t real. They’re made for stubborn children and Hollywood. He can’t be.   He frowns. “Supernatural is not the word you should use to describe me.”   Fear envelopes me as realization dawns in: he can read my thoughts. How? I grow more and more alarmed as he runs his eyes down my body once more.   “You can speak now,” he says.   I don’t dare utter a word. Instead, I scream my lungs out. Scream until my throat dries up. But nothing had come out, not even a peep, and I look up at him with panic. How can he control my body?   “I said speak, not scream,” he says dryly.   “W‒Who are y–you?” I stutter. Momentary relief floods me with the return of my voice. Still, not enough for the panic and anxiety that engulfs my entire being. I need to move!   “Wasn’t so hard now, was it?” The amount of sarcasm in his tone is enough to make me feel like a child. Then he sighs. “You tell me. You called for me.”   “I d-didn’t,” my voice shakes. I don’t remember anything. How could I have called him? I would never be stupid enough to get the attention of a serial killer.     “You did, in your sleep.”   “I–In my sleep?” I ask incredulously. “How could a person call another in their sleep? T‒That couldn’t be possible!”   His jaw flexes for a second, forcing me to clamp my mouth shut. “Be calm,” he commands. Oddly enough, I feel the weight of panic lift off of me. There was calm. I was calm like he said. “You were falling off a tall building. And then you called my name.”   “I don’t remember.”   “Now you do.”   A sudden rush of images floods through me – skyscrapers, sunset, panic, a white dress, rooftop, a harsh push. It all comes back to me in one huge wave and so does all the emotions that I had felt in that dream. I was falling and calling out for him. I stare at him in disbelief. “How did you do that?”   “One of the many skills I have,” he steps away – just one, and I don’t know how to react.   I look at him, confused. “What are you?”   He brings his hand up and pushes down slowly. I fall onto my bed gently. He looks at me with a gleam in his eyes. He tilts his head to the side and a ghost of a smile touches his mouth. I've suddenly frozen again, unable to move nor speak. Then he moves forward, bringing his lips close to my ear.   “A demon.”   A strong gust of wind brushes against my exposed skin before he vanished into thin air. I’m left alone inside my room, wide-eyed and mouth agape, trying to understand what just happened. I’m put in a daze, my eyes becoming blurry and blurry with every second passing, tears are coming into the surface now that I have my control back.   Seconds later, I collapse onto my bed.