Page 88 of Sinful Lord

I’m not thinking straight. How could I? I’m stuck in a terrifying dream that blurs the line between reality and fiction.

Still, something inside of me keeps an eye out for an alternative escape route. There has to be one. It’s my only hope.

But the further I run, the less hope seems to matter. All I see are empty storefronts and dark windows, reflecting my nightmare right back at me.

I should have stayed at the apartment. I should have sat on the front steps and screamed until someone called the cops. Anything is better than this. Anything is better than trying to run through the darkness and the cold on my own.

Just before my hope can shrivel up into a useless husk, though, I spot the thinnest out.

An alleyway, barely discernable from the brick monoliths that surround it. The fact that this is my best option only solidifies how bad of a spot I’m in.

Without thinking, I lunge for it. My heavy heart jumps for joy when I see a gate at the end of the dark pathway. On the other side is light. Maybe I’m not so screwed…

But when I take one last look back into the street, my frozen face drops. The dark figure is so close that I can actually make out a face.

A horrible, disgusting, disfigured face.

The sight turns my legs to jelly. An air-piercing wail escapes my lungs. I claw at the alley wall and pull myself in.

That’s when I run face first into something so solid I’m knocked right onto my ass.

“Melina?”

Even through the ringing in my ears and the black stars blurring my vision, I know that voice.

“… Tytus?” I croak, frigid tears streaming down my cheeks.

“Angel…” he whispers. I can feel him bend down to wipe the sadness and the fear from my face. His fingers are so warm. “It’s okay. You’re safe now.”

“No. He’s right there,” I blubber, leaning into his palm as it spreads to take me. “I saw him…”

“Where?” the softness in Tytus’ voice quickly turns hard.

“just around the corner,” I cough. “I… I saw his face.”

“Stay here.”

His growl lingers in the air like a protective blanket as he leaps over me.

“No. Don’t go,” I quietly beg. But it’s too late.

For what feels like an eternity, I’m returned to my cold, dark, lonely reality. It’s hard to say how long that lasts before Tytus finally returns.

The heat of his body is like a fire. He kneels down at my side. Without another word, I’m engulfed in his embrace.

All I can do is sob into chest.

“No one’s there, angel. The streets are empty. It’s just you and me. I promise.”

“No, that doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t…”

“It’s true. It’s alright.”

“I was so scared,” I gasp, unintentionally hugging him back.

“I know, angel,” Tytus sighs. “It’s my fault. I’m sorry for leaving. It won’t happen again.”

His broad embrace tightens and I let myself sink into the safety of it all. That arctic-like aftershave of his somehow becomes warm and comforting. His muscles turn into pillows. His strength into a stress ball.