The shadow moves again. This time it steps forward. Just one step. But it’s enough to make my pulse spike and my stomach clench.
It’s closer now. Close enough that I can make out a few more details. The suggestion of a strong nose. High cheekbones. A mouth that might be curved into a smirk.
And okay. Okay. I’m just going to admit it. This shadow thing is kind of hot.
Which is deeply concerning. Why am I making my childhood monster attractive? What does that say about me? Nothing good, that’s for sure.
I definitely need therapy. So much therapy.
The shadow takes another step. Then another. It moves with a fluid grace that shouldn’t be possible for something so large and imposing. Each step is deliberate. Purposeful. As if it knows exactly where it’s going and nothing is going to stop it.
It stops at the foot of my bed and tilts its head. Studying me.
I stare back. What else can I do? I still can’t move. I’m completely at its mercy.
Then it speaks.
“Hello, Adam.”
The voice is deep and gravelly. It rolls over me like smoke. Rich and dark and far too pleasant for something that shouldn’t exist.
I blink. Or at least, I try to blink. I’m not sure if it works.
It knows my name. Of course it knows my name. It’s a figment of my imagination. It knows everything I know.
“It’s been a long time,” the shadow continues. There is amusement in its voice now. A hint of something playful. “You’ve grown.”
Well, yes. I was seven years old the last time I thought about this thing. I’m twenty-six now. I’d hope I’ve grown.
“I’ve missed you.”
Missed me? What the hell is this dream even about?
The shadow moves around the side of the bed. Slow and unhurried. It stops next to my nightstand and leans down. Those glowing red eyes are level with mine now.
“You probably don’t remember me,” it says. “But I remember you. Every detail. Every moment.”
There is something almost tender in its voice. Which is absurd. This is a hallucination brought on by sleep paralysis. It doesn’t have feelings.
“My name is Hex,” it says.
Hex. Of course. Because why wouldn’t my childhood monster have a name that’s all olde worlde and sounds witchy and curse-like. It makes perfect sense.
“And I’ve come back for you.”
A shiver runs down my spine. Okay. That sounded ominous. And weirdly romantic? What is wrong with my brain?
Hex straightens up and crosses his arms. Or at least, I think that’s what he is doing. It’s hard to tell with all the shadows.
“I know you can’t move right now,” he says. “Sleep paralysis. Unpleasant, isn’t it?”
My dream is using the technical term for this? That’s oddly specific. Trust me to make my imaginary monster a geek.
“Don’t worry,” Hex continues. “I’m not here to hurt you. I just wanted to see you again. Talk to you.”
Talk to me. Sure. That’s what all creepy shadow figures say.
I try to speak. Try to ask what the hell is going on. But my jaw is locked tight. My tongue is useless. All I can do is stare.
