THE DARK

CHAPTER 21

Rousing from a dream-absent slumber, the rime of my azure eyes shimmered with the iridescent of magic. Ruddy curls dangled from my head, falling carelessly over the pillow like weightless silk. Glancing at the body beside me, my heart seemed to soar in the incarceration of my chest.

Unable to contain my emotions that yearned to combust, I smothered my head into my pillow and let out a muffled shriek of excitement, pleasure, and contentment. I shyly peeked out from the softness of the cushion to see if my frivolous actions had disturbed Ichabod. He hadn't stirred.

His exposed back was towards me, an aberrant pasty white. However, for some reason it was as stunning, and as pallid, as the first snowfall of winter. When powder would envelop the land for miles and miles; miles of perfection before the first footprint could compress and flaw the delicate substance. His muscles, it seemed, resembled those of a strong stallion's quivering beneath it's skin. I stealthily brought my lips to the summit of each of his shoulder blades and could taste the salt of his skin on the tip of my tongue.

Peering over his shoulder, I noticed a slight flicker of his eyelids and an evident smile spread across his lips. "You wretch! You were awake the whole time, weren't you?" I smacked his arm lightheartedly. Planting a quick peck on his cheek, I rolled over and exhaled a sigh of complete bliss.

There was nowhere else I'd rather be, no other person I'd rather be with. For once in my life I had the whole world dangling at my fingertips, and though foreign, this feeling was worth all the determination and motivation one could endure. Here I was with this man who held my heart so gently in the palm of his dimpled hand, and it was everything I imagined it would be. Well, almost, anyway.

We disregarded that minor detail that Ichabod was married, and that left me to question what marriage really was. After all, it only was a piece of paper, wasn't it? I rationally knew that little detail would and could destroy everything – everything Ichabod and I had. I couldn't let myself think that we wouldn't last, but I knew very it well it was true. As soon as Katrina returned from Delaware we'd be over. Just Like that – over.

And yet I didn't regret anything, nor would I. In the next few days, I'd live my life like those days would be my last and just being in Ichabod's arms for that limited amount of time was far the merit of the consequences it would instigate. Little did I know that the more I found myself lost in Ichabod's arms, the more I longed to be when I wasn't.

After the morning meal, which we discovered neither one of us wanted, we spent the remainder of the day curled up on the davenport in front of a roaring fire. Outside, snow hurled from the skies in Mother Nature's fury, and every house in Sleepy Hollow seemed isolated from the rest of the town with their shut shutters, closed doors, and warm hearths to mingle next to.

I rested my head on Ichabod's shoulder as he read aloud to me from a book of English Literature and found myself dozing off to the melodic rhythm of his voice. Everything was perfect, and when we retired to his bed after darkness had fallen upon the small town, Ichabod slept effortlessly and serenely through the night. My mind on the other hand, flourished.

The dark. The dark swarmed around me like a carnivorous predator moving in for the kill. The room was smaller now, but the luminescent under the door was brighter – closer, friendlier. I don't know what brought my fists to the hard wood of the door or why I opened my mouth preparing to scream at the top of my lungs. I knew in this room sound was nonexistent and even if it were, no one would hear my distress. Nevertheless, I pounded the vast door and almost fainted when the resonance reverberated stridently in the atmospheric tension. I took a step back like the door would burst open within that second. What was happening to me? What kind of wicked hoax was this?

My screeching pierced the air like a wounded animal, and I hurled myself at the door with a collision that sent me to the cold floor beneath me. "Help me! Anyone! Help me!" I tried to sallow my tears of fury, but I couldn't contain them and they spewed from my eyes, scorching my cheeks. My voice was distant and airy like I hadn't spoken a single word for years. I bashed my fists into the wood again until I felt the flesh rip from my knuckles and the angry tears blinding my eyesight.

I heard it and I paused panting for the precious air that seemed so limited in this confinement. It was so faint and muffled that I could hardly hear it, but grew stronger with every call. My heart began to hammer against my chest and my eyes widened with horror that grasped a hold of me in a lethal grip. A strong gust blustered through the room and within it's icy and paranormal current, it harshly whispered my name.

"Melanie!" It wailed like a choir of specters. "Melanie!"

"What do you want from me? I madly screamed as loud as I possibly could. "What the hell do you want?"

And then the wraithlike wind swallowed me, and swept around me chanting my name quicker and faster and louder. I firmly shut my eyes and froze as if death were to claim my very soul for satin himself.

Then I felt something; a thick liquid trickling onto my head, running down my cheeks and into the corners of my mouth. I tasted the salty and tart warmness of blood on my tongue. I spun around and cried the fear and horror that had possessed every single bone in my body. The incise in the door, the compass rose, radiated a ghastly white and blood seeped from the cracks of the engravement dripping on to my flesh.

"Ichabod!" I cried the name of the only person I trusted, the only person I knew who would rescue me and protect me with his life.