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Destiny…
A moan slipped past her lips. She clenched her eyes shut, willing the voice to leave her alone.
Look at me. You can’t hide. You belong to me…
She had to be losing her mind. There is no one here. There is no one…
Destiny.
The voice was more insistent, the tone full of anger.
Her eyes snapped open. She scanned the dark room, forcing herself to rise to her feet. “What do you want?” Only the sound of a passing car on a nearby street answered her question. Breathing out, she walked toward the window as she folded her arms. The air outside was stagnant, dripping with humidity given the recent rain. She stood in the shadows for a few seconds, garnering her courage.
The hours she’d spent going over her patient files had left her restless, but she was almost certain there was something hidden in the years of intense therapy. What was she missing? Her research had revealed one clue. Both Mark and Candace had the deep yearning to submit, give over control of their bodies to another. The diagnosis had been straight from a textbook. Given the trauma both had experienced, they’d been programmed, much like victims of kidnappers. They both needed to submit in order to find acceptance. At the time, their desires seemed harmless. She’d compared their rather intense desires to the Stockholm Syndrome. Now, she wasn’t so certain.
Her gut instinct screamed she’d missed vital information. She would pour over the limited documentation until she found what she was looking for. This wasn’t just about a connection between patients. Little doubt remained she was a part of the recent tragedies in some horrific manner. The occult. She almost laughed. Even though her unusual perceptions always turned into nightmares, she’d never really considered the concept. Perhaps she should.
Her thoughts shifted to the detective. The vision she’d experienced when they’d touched left her aching. They held some kinetic energy together and the realization further terrified her.
Wide-awake, she tugged at the window, struggling to shut the sash. A flash of light drew her attention. She peered out into the postage stamp back yard. She’d worked tireless hours tilling the clay and dirt, filling a six-by-six area with compost. The raised bed was filled with perennials and flowers, a peaceful backdrop to her grouping of Adirondack chairs.
Creak…
Terror trickled into every cell. Her oversized iron swing was moving forward and backward, even though there was only a light breeze. She shook her head as a fleeting feeling of being watched settled into her system. A dog barked in the distance, and she jumped, then slapped her hand over her mouth, disgusted with her ridiculous behavior. She pulled at the window, finally jerking the sash down several inches.
Ping!
“Fuck!” Destiny darted her eyes back and forth, the shadows encasing her beautiful yard now ominous, haunting.
Destiny…
A figure appeared, illuminated by the hazy moonlight. Scuttling backward, she gasped. No. This couldn’t be happening. There was no one in her yard. There were no monsters hiding under her bed. Still, the prickling sensation of being watched remained. Had she willed him to life? Get a fucking grip. Jesus Christ. You’re a professional. Not tonight. On this night she was nothing more than a frightened woman, unprepared for the current trickling through her muscles.
She closed her eyes, wiling him away. He’s your past, your future. He’s your… “No. I refuse.” When she looked again, she felt relieved. Then the figure appeared once again, closer this time.
The breeze was no longer blowing. There were no sounds except for the beating of her heart.
“What do you want from me?” She stood still, shaking and listening. “What? Talk to me. You seem to want me do damn badly. Tell me!”
Everything…
She laughed and moved back from the slithered yellowish hue emitted from a streetlight. She shouldn’t be able to detect anything given the diminished light level, yet she was able to make him out clearly. ‘Him’. As if she knew who he was and what he wanted. He wants you to belong to him. He wants you to give up control. The concept of control she held dear given her past, one filled with rage and insanity.
The mysterious intruder remained, standing in her yard, his gaze penetrating. There was a bluish glow surrounding his prone figure. She was drawn to him her breath stolen. For a few seconds she remained still, drinking in the sweet essence, a strong scent of blooming night jasmine mixing with an exotic musk. Her body tingled, her nipples hard and aching. This was crazy. There was no one waiting, hungering for her to succumb. She closed her eyes for a few seconds, humming softly a tune from her childhood. When she managed the courage to take another peek, the figure was gone.
Destiny needed nothing more than sleep and perhaps a vacation. She’d call the detective in the morning, give her the findings and close the case file. Her patients were dead. There was little she could do to help them now. The thought riveting, she slammed the window, forcing herself to turn away.
Destiny…
This time anger rushed through her. She was over this bullshit. Determined to shove her dark imagination back into a padlocked box, she raced out of her room toward the back door. No fantasy was going to interfere with her life. She fumbled with the lock, her fingers shaking, before managing to throw open the door.
Rage roared into her as she took two giant strides out onto her front porch. Folding her arms, she peered over the railing, searching in the darkness. Seeing nothing but the outline of chairs and plants, she turned to walk back inside. Suddenly sounds of traffic, a single beeping horn and several dogs barking created goose bumps on every inch of her naked skin. The moment lost had been restored.
“What you don’t know is that you’re already mine.”
Startled, she sucked in her breath, refusing to turn around. “Let me alone. Just fucking let me alone. I don’t want you.” Hearing nothing but the wind whipping through the tops of the trees, she tipped her head, glancing over her shoulder. It was as before – nothing. She remained rattled, unsure of what to do, if anything. Maybe she was losing her mind.
For a few seconds she thought about her mother, something she hadn’t allowed her mind to muse about for a solid three or four years. Her father used to say that Destiny was the ‘spittin’ image’ of her mother in body and spirit. She prayed to God otherwise. After all, her mother had lost her life to madness.
