Chapter 28 - Who Is He To Me?
I strained desperately, attempting to unleash a voice that seemed strangled within me. A suffocating sensation gripped my throat, preventing any sound from escaping. Bewilderment etched my face, perplexed by the unexpected turn of events. Why was she, the supposed benevolent spirit, subjecting me to this torment?
In a fervent bid to reach Iris, I extended my hand, only to be met with a disconcerting revelation. Something moist and fleshy coiled around my leg, a nightmarish entanglement resembling tentacles. A wave of discomfort surged through me as these ghastly appendages snaked their way upwards, ensnaring my waist. Desperation coursed through my veins as I attempted to stomp on the grotesque intrusion, but my efforts were futile. The tendrils persisted, ensnaring both legs in an unrelenting grip.
Realization dawned as the tentacles tugged me toward their origin—the ominous door at the end of the hallway. Swiftly, I harnessed a burst of strength, resisting the pull and immobilizing the sinister force. Cries and screams echoed through the corridor, yet Iris remained frozen in terror, her gaze fixed upon me.
My attempt to anchor myself by grasping the pillars lining the hallway took a ghastly turn. The pillars, upon closer inspection, transformed into Mrs. Potts' legs. A malevolent smile crept across her face as she looked down, sinking her teeth into my hand. A shudder ran through me as I hastily relinquished my hold.
The relentless tentacles persisted, dragging me ever closer to the foreboding darkness of the room. Panic surged as I desperately scratched against the floor, my fingernails breaking and blood staining the surface. In that harrowing moment, my thoughts converged on Eugene. As my fingers bled, a poignant realization enveloped me, and a thought surfaced: "I hope you'll find happiness once I am gone."
As the dark room sealed shut, I jolted awake in the same instant, my senses still blurred from the remnants of the nightmare. A tall figure loomed before me, and for a fleeting moment, I dared to hope it was Eugene. The memory of our recent altercation lingered, and the fear of his anger gripped me. However, as my vision cleared, I dismissed the notion. It couldn't be him.
In the midst of my uncertainty, a familiar yet faint voice pierced the air, calling my name. "Hey, Angela, you witch! Yesterday, we forgot to close the Ouija board because of you." The voice became more distinct, and relief washed over me—it was indeed Eugene. He had flung the door open, inadvertently rescuing me from the clutches of my nightmarish torment.
Upon laying eyes on his face, the anger, condemnation, and sorrow that had lingered from our previous conflict dissipated. His presence had a soothing effect, eroding the haunting residues of the nightmare.
Summoning strength, I gingerly rose from the bed, only to be met with a sharp reminder of the night's horrors. My right leg and hands throbbed with pain, bearing the tangible evidence of the nightmare's brutality—the bite mark, the broken nails, and the unsightly mark left by the sinister tentacles.
Attempting to stand proved a futile endeavor; my legs betrayed me, and I crumpled to the floor. Eugene, quick to respond, enveloped me in his warm embrace. It was a comfort I had yearned for amidst the cold and gruesome tendrils of the nightmare. In his arms, the pain and weakness seemed to subside, replaced by a sense of solace and security.
That was the moment when I cried a soundless voice, " Who are you to me and Who am I to you".