Slowly but surely, you came back to consciousness. Your eyes blinked open, then fell closed, then back open again. It took you a moment to realize where you were, but you quickly realized that you were sitting in the passenger seat of a car, a white SUV.

Your head felt like it was hit by a shit ton of bricks and you tried to soothe it by pressing your hand against your temples, but it didn't help. Someone was driving. You turned to see who it was and your eyes widened in surprise.

It was Amy. That same Amy that was infatuated with Tyler, who was basically borderline obsessed with him. At first, you almost didn't recognize her. There was a burning intensity in her eyes as she was steering the wheel and she didn't make eye contact you, merely focused on the road.

"Amy?" you asked groggily, struggling to keep your eyes open.

"Rise and shine," Amy answered without even sparing you a glance.

"What's going on?" you questioned. "How did I get here?"

She swallowed a thick gulp before she answered you, a solemn and pensive expression on her face. "We have a lot to catch up on."

"What do you mean?" you raised your brows, dumbfounded.

"I fear that we are going through the same thing," Amy started.

"Okay, go on," you added, a confused look on your face.

"Your sister has been missing for a while, and there hasn't been any trace of her, right?" Amy asked, trying to clarify.

"Yeah," you muttered, a frown on your face.

"Alright, hear me out on this. It's kind of a long story, and I think what happened to your little sister is connected to something I've been researching," she started.

You didn't say anything, instead you just gave her a look urging her to continue.

"I was about to come visit you but then I saw you running towards something. You were screaming. I couldn't see what it was. Do you feel like-" she cut herself off briefly to gather her thoughts, then she started to whisper as if someone could hear her when it was just us, like she was revealing this hidden truth that she felt like she shouldn't be sharing with me, "like someone is haunting you? Or something? Like it feels so real to you but no one else can see it? Like this thing is just endlessly tormenting you and there's nothing you can do about it?"

You nodded your head. "What are you seeing?"

Amy's lips curled into a frown. She avoided your gaze and simply stared back at the road, focusing on it. She stayed silent for so long that you weren't sure if she heard you.

"Do you know that painting called the Anguished Man? That's said to be haunted?" Amy whispered, glancing over at you with a fearful look in her eye.

"Yeah, didn't the artist like mix his own blood into the painting and committed suicide not long after he finished it?" you asked, having read about it in some article about haunted objects.

Amy nodded her head and thickly gulped. "Yeah, exactly. My dad―he... he um, committed suicide. I was only five at the time. I was the one who found him. He didn't leave a note or anything. He was just gone. Hanged himself. I remember he had just tucked me in bed after reading me a bedtime story. But I couldn't sleep and I wanted him to tell me another story, so I bugged him and ran into his room," Amy recalled, blinking back tears. She took a long pause. "He was suffering from major depression and couldn't cope anymore. That's what my mom told me anyway. My dad used to paint. A lot. It was his thing. My dad tried to replicate that painting because he said it spoke to him. When the painting was finished, it was near identical to it. At the time I didn't know the origin of the painting. My mom thought it was creepy but artistic until she read up on it and demanded that he get rid of it. She didn't want it hung up on the walls. I think she was scared. He claimed he would get rid of it. But then a year later he ended his life. When we were looking through his things inside the attic, we found the painting. He didn't get rid of it. He never did. I've been having nightmares of that face for a long time now, too long, and sometimes―sometimes I even see it for real. In the flesh."

You hung onto her every word, and you felt your blood turn to ice then freeze over. Your heart sank. That was a whole lot to take in. You just thought she was the stereotypical blond girl who ordered vanilla lattes every morning with almond milk, who wore flashy clothes and could barely keep her hands off her phone and who was obsessed with your ex, Tyler. Little did you know, how much she was dealing with.

"Do you think I'm crazy?" she asked when you didn't say anything.

"No, no, I don't think you're crazy," you answered thoughtfully.

"At first I just thought it was grief. It feels too real. It feels like a sentient being. I've been reading up on what this thing might be. In the library. All those missing kids, how they just vanish and it's like a normal occurrence, all these unsolved mysteries? Everyone is acting like everything is normal. But this thing—this monster. I've been reading up on what it could be and I think it's been around for a while. It's not a hallucination. It's real. I don't know where it came from or what it wants but this monster is real. The missing kids, the adults not being able to do a damn thing to find them, the horrifying sights these kids have been talking about in Derry, it's all connected," Amy said, her voice shaky and so unsteady.

Your heart was pumping frantically in your chest and you felt a strange sense of relief that you were not completely alone in this but it was quickly switched back to an overwhelming feeling of dread and fear.

"H-Have you seen a clown?" you questioned, your breath hitching.

"Yes. I have seen a clown. The white skin, the orange hair, his sharp teeth, those deceptive blue eyes, that red balloon he's always carrying. I could never forget it," Amy admitted.

"Pennywise?" you asked, holding your breath.

"Yes, the dancing clown," Amy continued ominously.

"Oh God, he's real," you said, more to yourself than to her. You were half relieved that you weren't the only one and half terrified about what this meant for the both of you.

"Yes, he's real, there's no denying it," Amy said with a frown.

"If me and you are both seeing him... then other people must be too," you quavered.

"Fear attracts it. It feeds on our deepest fears, external and internal, whatever your fears are, it knows," Amy said, her brows furrowed as she stared back at the road.

"Yeah, I barely made it out alive just now. I was there and it somehow knew everything that I was ever scared of and made them a reality," you admitted, cringing at the thought of what happened.

"It has too much power, it's ungodly; evil," Amy said, her lips curled into a frown. "I'm really scared of it. I don't know what to do. I can't eat or sleep. I can't do anything. I just keep thinking about his―it's face. I'm so fucking scared."

"Me too," you admitted. "What can we do to stop it?"

"Hell if I know. He feeds off our fears. How do you not fear anything? Everyone has fears," Amy quavered, stumbling upon her words. "It's the embodiment of evil, and it can take the appearance of anything or anyone, so it makes you question reality, if what you're seeing is really real or not. Half the time I can't even tell the difference. The things I've seen... I don't want to relive it, I can't."

"Yeah, I know," you whispered.

"I'm scared to even have my own thoughts nowadays. I feel like he can hear or see what I'm thinking. Isn't that crazy? It's crazy right?" Amy asked in a shaky tone.

"No, it's not," you assured her.

"It feels fucking crazy," Amy said brokenly.

"Where are you taking me?" you finally asked, glancing back at her.

"To the library, so we can learn more about it, and what it's capable of, together," Amy told you.

"Can we not? Can I just stay over at your place? I really don't want to go back home," you said, looking back at the rear view mirror and seeing all the cuts and bruises you had on your face.

"Yeah sure, I guess. You've been through a lot," Amy started, "I'm really sorry."

"You don't need to be," you looked back at her with a long face.

"Do you want something to eat? We could stop for some food before we go back to my place," Amy suggested.

"No. I just want to sleep. I can barely think, or function, and my head is killing me," you grumbled, laying your head back against your seat and resting your eyes.

"Okay, no problem. You can stay as long as you need," Amy assured with a weak smile and stroked your cheek gently with her hand that wasn't on the wheel.

"Thank you," you mumbled, closing your eyes once more. You could barely think. You just needed a little more rest. A little more…

When you woke up, you were on a bed, a really soft and comfortable bed. You looked about the room, it was empty and small. There was no one. It was quiet. You closed your eyes again but then opened them shortly after, only to see darkness envelope the room.

With one more look around, you realized that you were in a guest room. There was a floor-length mirror and a bed, otherwise it was empty. Were you really staying at Amy's place? The girl who was obsessed with your ex? You supposed so. This had become your reality. You didn't know what to make of it.

You glanced about in the darkness, feeling a sense of discomfort and unease. It was almost pitch black, save for the moonlight glow that slipped through the cracks of the blinds.

You sat up on the bed momentarily to undo your bra from behind your back and slipped your pants off as you started to feel stuffy in the room. Your eyes were restless all of a sudden and you were examining more of the room before you, trying to familiarize yourself with it. You found a night light plugged in the wall but it was shut off so you turned it on once you noticed it.

You slipped back under the covers of the bed, trying to make yourself comfortable.

There was an eerie silence that filled the room. Dead silence.

Your body was aching and sore, from the bruises and scratches and cuts. You were exhausted and felt a heaviness in your chest.

You closed your eyes again, and started to see strange shapes dancing in the darkness, and so you opened them. You felt equal parts scared with your eyes opened or closed, there was no difference. You released a sigh, allowing your eyes to fall shut and surrendering yourself to the night.

You needed to sleep. That's all you could ask for at this point. You did not know how much time had passed between the time Amy was driving you to her place to the time you had been resting, it all seemed to blur together. The next thing you knew you were resting on a soft mattress and comfortable sheets.

When you had been sleeping, you didn't see the clown, that must have been a good sign. Maybe he was done taunting you for the day. Maybe he found another subject, someone else to instill fear in. Then at the mere thought of that malevolent clown haunting your little sister came to mind and your blood ran cold, causing a shiver to run down your spine and a feeling of dread course through your veins.

No, you had to find her. Wasn't she back there, at that abandoned house? Wasn't she scared and alone? What had he done to her? Was he just using her as bait to lure you in? When were these games going to end?

Your mind was racing for several long moments and then finally, after some time you closed your eyes. Seconds after your eyes were shut, the night light that was illuminating the room died out all of a sudden. Yet that didn't wake you.

But something else did.

This was how it began: with a curious tingling sensation at the beginning of your spine, right at the base of your neck. It gradually built into a full burn that traveled southward, growing warmer and warmer as it went, until eventually your whole body was awash with white-hot pinpricks.

Yet you were not even sure that you were fully conscious. Sleep's shroud still clung to you as tangibly as the comfortable cotton sheets draped over your body. Your closed eyelids may render you blind to the surroundings of the bedroom, but they did nothing to block sound.

"Good evening, poppet..." drawled a guttural male voice, manifesting out of nowhere. It sounded decidedly otherworldly with the way it resonated in the air.

A throaty grown of acknowledgement was all you could manage in your fright.

I'm dreaming, you thought, hoping it was true.

"Does this feel like a dream?"

Something inhumanly strong clutched your bare ankle. The sudden gesture startled you, but your body does not ― cannot ― flinch. Not even your lips broke apart to let out the squeal of alarm trapped in your throat.

Wh-what is this?! You panicked silently.What have you done to me?! Who are you?!

You should have known the answer to your third question.

The visitor ― whoever he was, whatever he was ― heard your unspoken thought.

"A more apt question would be 'what am I," he answered cryptically before soon elaborating, "but I think you already know, don't you poppet? Yes, I know you do. As for your paralysis... it is only temporary. There is no need for you to be mobile tonight. I have plans for you, pet. You are not in charge here, not even of your own limbs and tongue."

The claw around your ankle tugged swiftly at the sheets blanketing you, and then the other ripped apart your long shirt and your cotton panties, leaving you naked and bare. One long, sharp fingernail dragged its way slowly from your foot to your calve to your inner thigh. Your leg may not be able to move, but neither is it numb to the sensations drawn on your nerves.

W-what are you doing? Even in your mind, your voice sounds woefully and pathetically weak.

The jagged end of the bony finger paused on the very outskirts of your exposed entrance.

"Isn't this what you humans call foreplay?" he asked with a dark chuckle. "You are a lonely, miserable, pathetic little thing, poppet, but your scent... Ooh that scent, that scent is something else entirely."

It was the clown, you could make that out through your fog-hazed brain. You thought your encounter from earlier would be enough for him to leave you alone for the rest of the day, and that maybe, just maybe you would be able to rest, but no, of course, he knew where you were at all hours of the day, and there was no escaping him.

"Do not despair, poppet," your uninvited guest cooed almost soothingly. "I'll take care of you just like I did before. Your broken mind called to me so sweetly, I had to oblige. Your fear, that perfectly sweet smell of fear, it's so potent and enough for me to trace wherever you are. You should consider yourself quite fortunate I am here. You will never find another who can stimulate the delicate flesh between your legs better than I."

The heat between your legs tingled in recognition from the foul words, and the creature instantly sensed your body's involuntary reaction.

"Yes, I can feel your carnal desires. Shall I begin satisfying them?" he asked, as if you had a say in the matter.

You gulped in apprehension. This monster was just messing with you, taunting you. You felt a chill run down your body with the overall threatening presence he was projecting.

Before you could ruminate further, the clown resumed his earlier movements and tickled the folds of your center.

"I can sense your hesitation, poppet," he mentioned. "But beneath that, your body and your subconscious are screaming for me to continue. I can feel the vibrations of lust pulsing from you. Would it relax you to know that I desire this, too? Your body is quite exquisite... for a human. I would be delighted to plumb its treasures, starting with the sweetness about to drip from your genitalia."

With that said, his gnarled finger glided easily into your surprisingly wet cunt. Your gasp of shock and pleasure went in through your nose as a deep breath. The action encouraged the creature to curl the digit purposefully as if to beckon another reaction out of you.

This is wrong... you fretted with what must be the last vestiges of your sanity. I didn't ask for this...

"No, but your kind is rarely granted the things for which they ask. And many things that are or seem wrong often feel too good to deny," countered Pennywise. "Millions of your species give in to their wicked and morally corrupt ways every hour, child. You are no different."

I'm not a child, your mind argued, latching onto the word with frivolous offense.

A deep chuckle reverberated against the walls.

"You may be considered a mature adult amongst your species, but I have more than a thousandfold years on you. Now stop this pitiful, stubborn attempt at righteousness and submit to me."

He added a second finger to your heated core, and just like that, you were powerless to resist. You absently wondered if he was casting some sort of spell over you to force your obedience, but the burning arousal in your loins does not feel like a trick. What did he do to you? How did he do this to you?

In any case, the creature hummed his approval at your compliance.

"There's a good pet," he withdrew his hand and used it to lightly slap your pussy appreciatively, only to immediately plunge his fingers back into place inside you.

His long fingernails grazed your g-spot, but rather than being painful or uncomfortable, the sensation was oddly gratifying. Every brush against your deepest recesses served to torment you in the best way. If you could gyrate your hips, you would, but the best you could do was allow a soft moan to thrum inside your chest.

"Enjoying yourself already?" he mused. "How weak you are indeed. And so soft..."

His other hand skimmed along the side of your body, following the curves from your hip to your breast. He grasped the fleshy mound and squeezed it with surprising tenderness.

"Perhaps I should loosen my hold on you," he wondered aloud. He gave your nipple a pinch and clarified. "Not over, just over your lips. I am an admittedly vain creature. I would very much enjoy hearing your uncensored cries ― in full volume ― when I bring you to the height of euphoria, over and over, until your voice is utterly shattered. What do you think, poppet?"

As he spoke, he wiggled his fingers and dug the heel of his palm into your clit determinedly while the hand on your chest moved to your other tit to caress it with the same attention as the first. The stimulation was positively electrifying.

I… You pleaded vaguely, unable to string coherent words together.

"You what, child?" he barked. "Speak freely now. Tell me what you so desire."

Your freed tongue poked out to wet your lips, then you said unabashedly, "I want to come so badly."

"Do you?" he teased.

His pointed thumb began strumming against your clit with the faintest touch, and this time your gasp was much sharper when able to be inhaled through your mouth. Again, you lamented the inability to rock yourself against him. The light stimulation was not enough.

"More..." you rasped. "I need more."

"Is that any way to speak to me?" Pennywise stated coldly. His thumb lifted away from your bud, and his fingers drew back to the start of your opening and stall there. "Ask me nicely, pet," he spat the last word to reiterate your role in this unnatural union.

"Please... m-master," you stuttered over the uncomfortable word. "Will you p-please make me come?"

"That's better," he approved, and then began shoving his fingers into you repeatedly.

A third finger joined the first two, and the fight stretch had you groaning incessantly. His thumb descended back onto your engorged clit to rub skilled circles into it. Every twitch of his hand pulled the knot inside your belly tighter and tighter.

"This silky cavern of yours is taking my fingers so well, pet," purred Pennywise, and you mentally preen under his praise in spite of yourself.

It took an embarrassingly short amount of time for your orgasm to wash over and pour out of you. The inability to hunch your back or even curl your toes made it feel all the more powerful, and the high-pitched whine that squeaks out of you was unlike any sound you have ever produced.

Pennywise continued undulating his wrist until the spasms of your pussy subside and the overstimulation on your clit neared the point of becoming painful.

"Such a messy little thing," he said aloud. The squelching sound when he removed his hand from your center alerted you to just how much wetness you released. "Open your eyes now and look at the mess you have made."

You blinked your heavy eyelids open and let your pupils adjust to the darkness. From the moonlight streaming through the curtains, you could definitely discern a distinct sheen running along the back of his hand, but what really captured your interest is the hand ― claw ― itself. It was even larger than you imagined. His nails were long and monstrous, and you wondered how they could possibly make you feel so good.

You raised your eyes upwards to look upon your visitor for the first time and are immediately captivated by his piercing blue gaze. His eyes were quite literally glowing, illuminating his pale, white face. It's him. The clown. You were sure of it, but you couldn't bring yourself to run or escape. Did your body want this?

The thought was automatic and also instantly heard, as Pennywise's wide smirk indicated. His teeth were sharp and long, and you vaguely noted that they could read you apart.

"Of course you want this, child. You need someone to sate those carnal urges. You need some kind of release. You need to let loose and let go of all the trivial things holding you back, all that pent up stress and frustration needs an outlet, and we'll get to just that, poppet," he informed you. "But first, let me see if you taste as delectable as you look.

With that, he parted his plump lips and snaked his sharp tongue out to catch his dripping fingers. He sucked them thoroughly before releasing each of them with soft pops.

The verdict was rendered as: "Delicious," while he grinned down at you devilishly. Then he decided, "I think I would like a taste straight from the source, if you don't mind."

Without actually giving you a choice, he dragged your body down the mattress without touching you and knelt at the foot of the bed to bring his face inches from your sensitive pussy. Before you had time to marvel (or cower) from his physics-defying action, he was on to the next thing, which was yanking your immobilized knees apart. His claws dug into the supple flesh of your thighs possessively.

When he dipped what can only be his tongue into the folds of your sex, the muscle felt strangely scaly and clammy. It soon became clear he was quite skilled with it, however, and its reach far extends that of all your previous lovers.

He licked along your slit tantalizingly without need for your still-throbbing clit. Then he delved his tongue in and out of your tight hole at a steady, rhythmic pace.

"Such sweet syrup you have stored inside you, poppet," he murmured huskily. "What a shame to have it bottled up for so long. It is a good thing I am here to release it for you."

You would say plenty of it has already been released, considering the stickiness seeping down into the crack of your ass, but you doubt the imposing creature would appreciate such a quip. And truth be told, you were flattered that he seemed to be enjoying giving you all the pleasure... so far.

Pennywise suddenly dug his tongue into your clit, directly under the hood. A jolt frizzled along the nerves of your frozen body and escaped past your lips in the form of a whimpery outburst.

While his mouth was attending your nether regions, his hands crept back up along your abdomen until he found your breasts again. He fondled them both of them rather gently, occasionally rolling and tweaking your nipples to send a pulse of need down south. Your moans became incessant the longer he carried on lapping and stroking and pulling you to the brink of madness.

Your second orgasm crested every bit as high as the first, and although your limbs still cannot move, you could feel the trembles of the aftershocks in your very bones.

"So easy to unravel," commented Pennywise as he resurfaced from the drenched juncture of your thighs. You watched as that pink, serpentine tongue outlined his coated lips to capture every lingering drop of your essence.

Your eyelids drooped in exhaustion, but the creature had not yet finished taking its fill.

"You are not the only one in need of release, poppet," he told you. "It has been ages since I have visited upon one as enticing as you, and I do not intend to waste this opportunity."

Again he used his otherworldly power to move your body to his will, this time flipping you over onto your stomach. Your started yelp was muffled against the sheets when he manually yanked your bottom half into the air, fully presenting your ass to him. His hands roamed over your backside slowly.

"I am going to penetrate you now, pet," he said in a low tone, making it sound like a warning. "The fit will surely be excruciating for you. I suggest you take a deep breath and exhale it as I make my entrance."

The unmistakable head of his cock pressed against the petaled lips of your pussy. The circumference of it was wider than any you have known, and your mind balked when your muscles couldn't flinch. It hadn't pushed even a centimeters inside you yet, but you knew without a doubt it would rip you apart. Before you could voice your concerns, Pennywise was speaking to you again.

"Shhh, shhh, stop your fussing," he growled. "Your anatomy is made to birth infants larger than my genitals; you will be fine. I will guide you through this. Breathe, poppet. You wouldn't want anyone to hear you, now would you?"

You obediently sucked in a gulp of air.

"Good. Now let it out. Slowly, now," he instructed next.

You allowed the sir to slowly leak from your lungs, and Pennywise began the plunge of his turgid cock into your core. As wet as you were, it was a struggle to fit even the tip of him inside. It speared through your walls agonizingly, tearing the sensitive skin just as you predicted, and you couldn't even twist your fingers into the bedspread to help cope with the pain.

"You are doing well, my pet," Pennywise assured you, conscious of your pained state. "But we have a ways to go yet. Keep breathing."

Each breath came in shakier and went out whinier than the last as inch after inch locked into place inside you. Your walls stretched to their limits around his steely shaft, and still he continued to push until eventually he met the resistance of your cervix.

"There we go," he announced quietly.

He reached up and fit one of his hands between the side of your face and where it rested against the bed to cup your cheek lightly for a moment, then glided his fingers slowly around to the back of your neck, across your shoulder blades, down your spine, and finally coming to a halt at your hip. His delicate touch left a trail of goosebumps in its wake. His other hand found purchase on the other side of your waist, and his hold became bruisingly tight.

"Now stay just like that and let me do all the work," he commanded as though you had a choice.

He withdrew his monstrous cock until only the mushroomed head remained, then thrusts back into you sharply, causing you to utilize the only parts of your body with mobility by parting your lips to groan loudly and squeezing your eyes shut tight. He gradually built up a steady pace, driving himself to knock against your g-spot relentlessly. The punishing blows made your eyes roll back in your skull.

"Is that what you think, child?" Pennywise questioned suddenly without interrupting his movements.

"W-what?" you asked shakily, unaware that you had even been thinking of anything specific for him to pick up on.

"That you are being punished?" he specified. "You are not being punished, my pet. If it feels that way, you are mistaken. I am not ruining you. I am ushering you into paradise. Don't. You. See?"

He punctuated his last few words with especially hard snaps, and you choked on a moan. Your pussy was clenching repeatedly around him now, signaling an impending third climax, even without clitoral stimulation.

Pennywise jerked the top half of your body upright with a claw hooked around your throat, and the unseen force he wields was used to plant your wrists firmly against the mattress to help keep yourself propped up. The mirror of the vanity dresser magically floated through the air to lean against the headboard of your bed. The reflection showed only yourself situated on your hands and knees, breasts jostling lewdly from the consistent pounding you were receiving from behind. The unholy creature was nowhere to be seen in the glass.

"Look at yourself," he demanded. "There is no use denying that you enjoy being ravaged like this."

You were unable to tear your gaze away from the crazed eyes staring straight back at you. They were your own, but they were also a stranger's. You moaned wantonly in a broken voice.

"You can be louder than that," spurred Pennywise. "Let all the heathens in Hell and all the seraphs in Heaven hear me taking over your body, mind, and soul."

He sped his thrusts even more to help earn the noises from you that he so craved, and you did not disappoint. Even if the damned and the higher beings couldn't hear you, the neighbors surely could through the walls of the house.

"Yes, my pet, that's it. Give in once more to the primal needs inside of you. Do it for your master."

And you did. You shut your eyes and felt your pussy quake as it released one last sinful gush.

Pennywise pierced the flesh of your hips with his nails sharply enough to draw trickles of blood as he tumbled over the edge with you. His cock ballooned even more at the moments of his impressive climax. He bellowed vehemently as he discharged a gratuitous amount of semen, thoroughly drowning your insides overfull. Even with his cock still lodged within you, it did little to plug the boiling liquid; it dropped out around his length, down your pussy, and onto the sheets below in copious rivulets.

When it was over, he removed himself from your gaping opening with a loud slurping sound and released all hold over you. Your used body crumbled in a heap.

"I believe I have sufficiently satiated you now," Pennywise determined rather calmly. He was not even the slightest big breathless. "Sticky sweet, pet. I will come back for you. I'm saving you for later, sweet one. "

You gave no indication that you had heard him, but he did not seem to mind. With strong arms, he lifted your limp body and tucked you into your sheets. You were too tired and too out of it to realize they were totally dry. Or that your sore hips were not actually bruised and bleeding. Or that the mirror has returned to its rightful place over the dresser.

"Sleep now, child... Or perhaps you truly have been sleeping and dreaming this entire time..."

An amused chuckle echoed against your eardrums, and you slipped into unconsciousness with one last vision of his wicked grin to haunt you.

When you awoke, you looked about the bedroom and stood up quickly, examining your body in front of the mirror. You did not see any markings but it was like you knew someone touched you, you felt warm and your head was fuzzy, and it was like you were trying to remember something that you shouldn't have forgotten. You scrambled to lift your shirt up to reveal your skin but again, there was nothing that seemed out of the ordinary. There was a presence of a touch. You could sense it. You could sense it from last night. Was it all just a dream? Did that really happen?

There was an ache in your bones and a heaviness in your body but there was nothing visible to affirm your suspicions. You kept searching your body, anywhere and everywhere that you felt even a slight pain or unfamiliar sense of ache but still there was nothing. You were scratching at yourself now, frowning at the mirror, battling with the idea of whether this was real or just a dream, it felt real, but you were having trouble distinguishing the difference anymore.

It couldn't be real. It wasn't real. It was all a dream, a really bad dream. But couldn't he visit you in your dreams? No, you had to ignore that thought.

You couldn't stay here. You weren't safe anywhere. You threw your clothes on as quickly as possible and grabbed your things, racing to the front door and exiting Amy's place, not looking back as you ran as fast as your legs could carry you.