I Am With You, Always

Between Fear and Ecstasy

Jana checked the time. It was almost 1:30 a.m. She sat in front of the monitor, still scrutinizing Benjamin’s photo with painful attention.

"Another asshole," she thought. "You always end up with the idiots." She was disappointed at Benjamin's behavior.

Suddenly, it felt as if all the alcohol she had consumed had evaporated from her body. She had started talking to Benjamin in the sweetest, most engaging way, as if she were igniting the spark of a new illusion. And then, it all went to hell the moment she heard his bold words:

"f*****g you. f*****g me? Really?"

She kept replaying them in her head, unable to believe how quickly things had escalated. She had expected a gentleman—someone with charm and respect. Instead, she got yet another guy who thought with his d**k instead of his heart.

Jana rushed to the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, drinking it as if she had been stranded in a desert for three days. That’s when she remembered Mary and the strange stone in her purse.

"Where the hell did I put that thing?" she mumbled, setting down the bottle. Without hesitation, she went straight to her purse and began rummaging through it.

Her fingers finally brushed against it—an irregular, unpolished stone. It had a deep purple hue, her favorite color.

"What was I supposed to do with this again?" she wondered, trying to remember its purpose.

Back at her desk, she looked up the stone’s name. Countless sites, endless information. But one line caught her eye: "Amethyst is used in meditation to promote relaxation and spiritual awareness. It is associated with the crown chakra, which is linked to higher consciousness."

Jana exhaled. "What the hell does that even mean? Whatever. I’ll put it on my nightstand and read more tomorrow."

She shut down her computer and headed to bed. Beside her nightstand, she kept a pack of makeup wipes. As she wiped her face, she couldn’t stop thinking.

"I feel miserable," she whispered, tears welling in her eyes. "I feel like I’ve lost everything in life. And here I am, 37 years old, unable to make anyone fall in love with me."

Desolation settled over her like a thick fog. She felt drained, alone, utterly defeated. Alcohol was a depressant, and she was already in a bad place—whatever effect the drinks had on her would only make things worse.

How would the next few days be, without work stress, without deadlines, without her team? Just trapped inside these four walls, with no real plan for her life. And worst of all—without a partner to support her through it.

Jana stood up and went to the bathroom to wash her face. Tonight, she had no interest in her usual skincare routine. She walked back to her room and slammed the door shut.

"I hate everything!"

The loud bang startled her poor cat, who darted out of sight.

Jana grabbed the amethyst and placed it on the nightstand. She stripped off her clothes, threw on her pajamas, and collapsed into bed like a big bag of potatoes.

"Damn that stupid light," she muttered, shutting it off immediately.

Then, out of nowhere, rage overtook her. She kicked at the bed, punched her pillow, and let out a deep, guttural scream.

"I really hope I didn’t just wake up the f*****g neighbors."

Her heart pounded. The sobs came again, harder this time.

She cried like never before.

She cried until her neck was drenched in tears, until her hair was damp.

She cried until her eyes burned like two hard-boiled eggs.

She cried until her throat felt raw and swollen.

She cried until, finally, sleep took her.

It seemed that, at last, her body had figured out how to relax and drift into sleep.

Jana’s bedroom was pitch black, wrapped in thick curtains that blocked out any trace of daylight. She had always struggled with sleep, waking up every morning feeling unrested. That darkened room, combined with the effects of the wine, should have been the perfect recipe for a deep, restorative rest.

It was past 3:00 a.m. Everything was still—until a desperate scratching sound echoed from behind the door.

Jana jolted upright, her heart lodged in her throat.

“What the f**k was that?”

The scratching stopped. Then, a low, familiar meow.

“Milo?” she called out to her cat. No response.

Slowly, she crept toward the door, listening carefully with each step. Nearing the light switch, she flicked it on. Standing at the threshold, she called again, “Milo, is that you?”

Summoning her courage, she yanked the door open in one swift motion, stepping back immediately.

Nothing.

Her gaze darted down the hallway. At the far end, Milo sat still, staring at her.

“What’s wrong, baby? You scared me!” she sighed, shaking her head.

Everything was normal. Just a silly scare.

Figuring she might as well use the bathroom, she went in, half-asleep. She was too exhausted to flush, too drained to wash her hands. At 37, drinking this much alcohol wasn’t the same as it had been at 20—her body couldn’t handle the chaos anymore.

She trudged back to her room and switched off the light. Collapsing onto her bed, she let out a heavy sigh. But just as she settled onto her back, she noticed something—the door, which she had left ajar, was now slowly creaking open.

Her body froze. Her eyes locked onto the doorway.

And then— A shadow.

A dark figure stood at the threshold, unmoving, watching her.

Jana couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. Her pulse pounded violently, a panic attack clawing at her chest.

“This is a dream,” she tried to reason with herself. But her body wouldn’t respond. She willed herself to wake up, to snap out of it, yet she remained paralyzed.

The shadow moved. Not walked—glided. It hovered toward her, eerily smooth, its shape growing more defined. A man’s silhouette.

Jana squeezed her eyes shut, but she could still see it. There was no escaping this.

Then, it reached out. Cold, weightless hands grazed her legs, stroking from her ankles to her knees. Jana’s terror twisted into something unexpected—arousal.

A wave of heat spread through her body, ignited by the human-like touch against her skin.

“What are you doing?” she whispered to the figure.

The dark, faceless man climbed onto the bed, his hands gliding up her thighs. He tugged at her pajama pants and underwear, sliding them down, leaving her completely exposed. Jana’s breath hitched. Her core throbbed with need. It had been so long since she’d felt this wet.

A hand trailed higher, inching toward her inner thighs. A shiver rolled through her.

And then—She gasped.

Her eyes flew open. The figure was gone. The sensation faded, but the ache inside her remained, raw and pulsing. She was so close. Just three more seconds, and she would have reached climax.

Her hand slid down instinctively. She pressed against her c**t, rubbing in desperate circles, chasing the ghost of that touch. Her mind conjured images—Benjamin, his hands, his mouth. She imagined him between her legs, his tongue buried inside her.

Five seconds. That’s all it took. Pleasure crashed over her in a blinding wave.

Jana lay there, breathless, her body still trembling from release.

“What the f**k… was that?”

Her mind raced, trying to process what had just happened. Fear still lingered in her chest, but beneath it, something deeper stirred—curiosity, longing. It had felt too real to be just a dream.

She should have been terrified. But instead… she wanted more.