Cecilia sat up. Someone was calling her name downstairs. Her back popped as she stretched, wiping the sleep from her eyes. What time was it? Four, four thirty? It was still dark outside. Her bare feet made light slapping noises against the hardwood floors. The stairs sent icy tendrils through her legs. Something was wrong. She stopped mid-yawn. Someone was calling her name from the attic now. A deep whisper, it sounded like it was coming from inside her mind.
Her instincts told her to run back into her room, pull the covers over her head, and go back to sleep. But she couldn't do that. For the past three years of her life, she sought out every creepypasta, every urban legend, watched every scary movie so that she would be prepared for this day. The day she faced a being of the supernatural. She couldn't back down now. Her feet moved on their own, her hand pulled the ladder down of its own accord. Mechanically, she ascended the wooden rungs until her feet were on the next floor. A simple black box rested in the center of the attic. Cecilia picked it up. It felt as light as air. She put it back down. Something wasn't right. She had to get back to the safety of her room.
The hallway to her room felt longer than before. A reluctance to return to her bed crept over her. A tugging sensation blossomed in her chest. She wanted to go back to the attic. With every step she took towards her room, she grew more feverish. Sweat dripped off of her nose. Her mind grew foggy. The walls distorted, growing and shrinking incessantly. Every sound was amplified. She could hear Brook breathing in her room; the shuffling of her blanket as the toddler twitched in her sleep sounded like booming thunder.
This wasn't right. Why was she walking away from the attic? It was safe there. The walls were the right sizes. It was quiet, it was safe.
Quiet. Safe. Quiet. Safe.
It took hours to reach the ladder. But still, the sun was not up. It took days to climb.
Everything ached when she reached the top floor of her home. All she could do was collapse and pant uselessly on the floor. The icy chill that swept through the room felt good on her skin.
Footsteps.
Cecilia knew she should panic. Knew she should scream for someone to help her.
But she couldn't. Not when she felt so safe.
Arms slipped under her knees and back. He picked her up effortlessly.
But then, what else could you expect from a god?
Her head rested between his neck and shoulder. What happened now?
He was taking her somewhere.
She tried to move, to escape his grasp, but her body would not respond.
And why should she escape? His grip was so gentle. He would protect her. She was safe.
She was on her bed. Why wasn't she still in the attic?
A cold hand covered her eyes, and she was asleep.
AN: So this chapter was originally longer, but I decided to split it into two parts. Double/triple update today maybe.