Plate of Agony

…You are mine…

My threaded silk sheets were no longer a comfort. Instead, they felt like gravel against my skin. Every twist and turn yielded pain.

The lit candle beside my bed did not ease my mind. I turned onto my back, eyes trained on the ceiling to avoid the shadows dancing in the candlelight's orange glow.

As I sunk into my pillow, I felt as though it would eventually suffocate me. It could not grant me solace from the whispers.

They were always present—like white noise. At least until he required my attention.

…Bring me more…

Groans of pain and agony poured into my room. Each corner shifted and warped in ways I could only attribute to that fateful day in the woods.

I was paralyzed by the weight of it all.

The flame at the tip of the wick flickered weakly as it neared the bottom of the holder where the wax pooled. Numerous claws and black tendrils inched their way toward my bed.

…You will never be free…

I cried out as Solar energy burst forth. The hammer was warm in my grasp. I leapt from my bed, slammed the fiery weapon down into the floorboards. I felt the heat intensify, as flames licked at every surface they could find.

The shadows still danced. Still reached for me.

I tried to burn them away. Wood splintered and cracked as everything fell apart.

My screams drowned in the destruction of my home.