I am not sure if I should put a trigger-warning up, but here it is! Dark, depressing theme at first, so be warned! ...I also have not written in a while, so be warned of that as well...and I guess, it is a little long. My bad! I promise, the story will not be all too serious later. I think. I appreciate any read and reviews!
Even he finally left her.
She would have breathed a sigh of relief if she could and yet, for the first time in a long time she felt a pang of anxiety over his absence.
Now she was truly alone, in this darkness. The silence seemed to consume her thoughts in the same way she imagined the insects would do with her corpse eventually. But this was fine, in essence, this…void washed over her mind like a river, inevitably carrying her some place else. It was peaceful, in a strange way.
And yet, she perceived something interrupting now. Faint noise began trickling through. Without really knowing, she knew it was intruding. It felt unnatural. As if she would be awaken from a deep slumber.
No, this felt wrong. Something was stirring. The motion only intensified and something out of place announced itself.
Panic.
This was not supposed to happen. Noise was flooding in like through a broken dam, steadily getting louder, roaring impatiently as if it could not wait to rush her mind to drown her and tear her into pieces violently.
Cynthia's eyes flung open and she let out a scream that pierced through the quiet in her small apartment.
She sat up in an instant, heavily breathing. Air flowed uselessly through her lungs and she knew something was not right. She stood up, too quickly, and swayed around dizzily as the dirty, dust-gray walls and the old, dark wood floor she was standing on began spinning slowly.
She held her head and groaned weakly but still regained her balance before she could fall.
It took her long seconds of confusion to remember where she was and calm down somewhat.
She chuckled nervously over how silly her nervous attack was before the laugh got stuck in her throat when she heard a slight hysterical edge to it which worried her again.
She inhaled a few more times. Even though it did nothing, she felt slightly clearer, stronger, perhaps or definitely just willing herself to get a grip.
With a faint frown she lifted her eyes to the ceiling where they stuck onto a rope, torn just a little above the noose.
There was almost something like frustration on her face as she swore it held her weight before, when he was there, with her. In fact, he probably helped her make sure, but that was a little fuzzy in her memory now.
What might have appeared like frustration gave way to a hint of disappointment, leaving her feeling hollow inside, as if a little cloud had decided to spread out in her.
She drew a sharp breath and held it involuntarily as she tensed a moment, bracing herself as if anticipating someone.
But no one came. There was no noise in her room as there was no one in it but here. For now, she thought and a shiver ran through her spine.
She physically shook herself and quickly decided to occupy herself with something else before she could manage to jinx her luck and summon him earlier than necessary.
Taking a moment, she listened carefully.
It was hard to concentrate on anything else before so it was only now when she really heard how much louder the city of Santa Monica was tonight, more than usual.
Just about every detail was crystal clear, while the building itself was rather silent in comparison.
It must be the adrenaline, she tried to reason. At least the aftermath of her attempt did not draw the attention of anyone nearby, she thought with a sigh of relief.
A light breeze was blowing in through a black curtain in front of an open window next to her desk, which was odd as she could not recall having opened any windows.
Nevertheless she felt a little bliss at the cold wind caressing her face.
It was only odd how it did not chill her skin.
It was a fairly cloudless night, in fact a rather beautiful night.
The moon was just visible enough so that she was able to see her apartment fine, albeit in a darker, blue-lighted shade.
She found it serene, like a quiet song and that is when she had decided before that this was fine.
But now unfortunately, that was over.
She needed to face it. Something happened and it was wrong.
She had tried banishing the memories. The memories of whatever place she had been in before. The dark place, the peaceful place which felt like someone was taking her somewhere simpler.
But she could not banish them. They were burned into her mind all this while and she felt a heavy kind of feeling, as if she lost someone close to her. Her heart was grief stricken and the laugh which followed would have sounded hysterical to a deaf person.
It was ridiculous, the way she felt and she sobered after a few seconds.
Her body felt stiff and she stretched her limbs a little. It did make sense. She must have fallen hard onto her wood floor and lain there for god knows how long before she came to.
She huffed as her limbs still felt no better.
Her fingers found her neck and she almost pulled then away when she touched her skin. Her body was icy. Had the window been open that long? How long had she been out?
Either way, she felt the wounded area. It burned slightly when she touched the area the rope had held her tightly and she inhaled sharply. She opened her mouth to make a sound, but it came out normal and yet her throat burned roughly. It was if if it had never felt so dry before, like a desert, a hard, rough stone desert.
She shut her eyes for a moment, cursing inwardly as an array of angry thoughts stormed her.
She walked briskly straight towards her vanity to inspect herself in the mirror in it. She was wearing a gothic styled necklace which held a small, circular-shaped, amethyst-colored glass stone in the middle.
It hardly distracted from the clear signs somewhat below her jaw pointing to a troubled person unfortunately, but that aside, her hair was a little ruffled and she was still a little bloodless. She swallowed and watched her trachea move, stiffening as her throat burned as if it had turned into sandpaper.
Closing her left hand, she decided to act out an idea and moved her fist towards the mirror until it bumped against the surface like any solid object, reassuring her she had not, in fact, turned into a spirit.
This just stirred up some more anxiety in her somehow instead of relief.
She wanted to tell herself she was overthinking, in shock, finally completely out of her mind, possessed, sick, a fucking zombie. Anything. But something told her that was not it. Something dark, something mean, but before she could explore *that* further, she stepped away from her reflection to look past her book case onto a classic-looking clock hanging right next to it.
It was about midnight.
Looking back at her mirror, she tried smoothing her hair a little by running her hand over her hair. Unsatisfied still, she went through it with her hair brush lying in front of her quickly and patted herself off just in case her clothes collected some dust while she was out.
Some fresh air could probably help right now, but first, she touched the marks the rope had left. It still stung.
An easy concealing spell should do it.
She left the fingers of her left hand on her neck and stared blankly.
A few seconds passed but nothing happened.
She frowned again. Then it went, her skin warmed a little and the marks vanished. Slowly, but it took some strain, which was very perplexing to her.
It was a very simple spell. She never had any difficulties with this one as it was one of the first spells she learned with which she also hid plenty of other things when growing up.
There it was again, that thirst. It was like a desert in her.
She went into her tiny kitchen for a glass of water which barely did anything. Another glass of water had the same result and she gripped the kitchen counter with an annoyed grimace.
I need some time, I suppose, she thought.
She walked over to her desk and grabbed her handbag lying next to it and her keys on it, then she was out.
It was a cool night when she stepped out of her apartment.
"Hey-", a slurring voice to her right greeted her, causing Cynthia to jump right out of her skin.
The drunk, who stumbled over his own words, began anew: "Hey lady, y-you got some cha-". but before he could finish the young witch had already collected herself from her surprise and had turned towards him to step closely to his face, anger in her out of nowhere .
"If you are still here, by the time I am back, I will call the police.", she threatened, the last word ending in a hiss.
She watched the fear of God appear in his eyes before he could gather himself and back away from her. "Bitch.", he spat out, loud enough for her to hear, but still leaving the alley in a pace far too quick for it to be seen as anything but fleeing.
Cynthia needed a moment herself as she felt the composure she had just managed to stitch together before stepping out was nothing but all violently flung into fractures again by that surprise-appearance. After a moment she followed the man suit and left the alley as well.
The alley opened up to a road running vertically along the street with a medical clinic on the other side of the road.
A street worker standing nearby the clinic, dressed very provocatively in red especially caught her attention, but before she could embarrass herself by staring at her long she crossed the luckily empty street in a fast pace.
The pain in her throat flared up much more intensely now causing her to grimace and she headed past the clinic into another alley, a bright red light bulb on the wall to her left flickering incessantly and ominously while the right wall advertised a bunch of punk bands via posters.
A hunch seeped in slowly but she did not even want to consider it. It would mean a lot more than just her feeling a little cold or a little dead.
She needed no spell for the creeping suspicion to set in that her body might rather be undead, but her mind fogged up right then.
How? Have I risen as a zombie technically? Such questions bombarded her head while she was walking deeper into the alley.
Panic rose up in her again and the pain in her throat flared up intensely as if she had literally burned her pharynx with an actual torch.
It was so bad she almost had to stop, but she managed to keep her pace up somehow, taking a left turn and almost reaching the main streets again when an obviously very drunk and loud man entered the empty alley.
The area in the left corner of her eye slightly darkened as he finally decided to show himself.
