The Monster In It's Cage

‘Lydia.’

Lydia jolted awake, gasping for air.

It was her own voice that had spoken her name. Her own voice that left chills running down her spine. Her own voice that said, ‘You can’t run.’

Lydia swallowed hard, her throat dry. She pushed the quilt off her body, lifting herself off of the couch. She realized she was breathing heavily. She forced herself to calm down. She clenched her fingers tightly as she slumped into her tiny kitchen. Her apartment was dim, the sun having sunk behind the horizon hours ago. She wasn’t sure when she fell asleep. The sun had set, the moon low in the sky. She needed something to eat, having been too distracted to do so all day.

She pulled out a pan from the cupboard, turning on the burner. Her mind was distracted now, her eyes watching the butter that slid around the pan, the sizzle of it calming her. The humming had started again. It was a six note tune that laced through her mind without her consent. It sent chills down her spine whenever it started, because it wasn’t her humming. It was someone else.

Lydia roamed aimlessly through her apartment, desperately searching for something to occupy herself. She turned off the stove, the desire to eat snuffed out by the fear in her mind. It took her about an hour to calm down, only relaxing when the humming in her mind finally stopped. This happened frequently, the six note tune floating up inside her mind for a while before finally falling silent. Her mind was never at peace. 

She went back to the stove, turning the burner back on. She cooked her dinner, her lips pursed as she begged her mind to stop racing. To stop whispering. 

The static in her mind was muffled now, and she ate her dinner. After washing her dishes, she was determined to fall asleep again. After stripping herself of her clothes, she slipped on her night clothes. She went into the bathroom to fill a glass with water. She then popped a sleeping pill into her mouth, washing it down with the water. It was something the doctor had prescribed her a few months ago, though it hadn’t seemed to be doing it’s job.

She slipped into bed, curling her arms tightly around the pillow. It took her about two more hours to fall asleep. 

The dream started out peaceful, like always. After a few short moments, the strange thick fog engulfed her, and she was swallowed again up by the strange darkness. Lydia blinked, trying to see through the dark like always.

The darkness lifted just enough for Lydia to be able to see in front of her. It wasn’t much, but it was better then seeing pitch black.

There was a shadow.

Lydia braced herself, prepared for what came next.

Calista appeared to her, a smirk pulling at her lips.

‘Hello Lydia.’ she said. 

Seeing her own image speak to her was jarring enough, but that evil smirk her identical image wore was terrifying.

‘My last host wasn’t nearly as beautiful as you are.’ Her sharp blue eyes bore into Lydia, sliding up and down her body.

Lydia was afraid, her skin crawling at the word ‘host’.

“What does that mean?”

‘I think you know the answer.’ The tone of that whisper curled with malice, sending a chill up her spine.

“No, I don’t.” Lydia growled. She was becoming angry with the stupid game her mind was playing on her.

‘Much feistier too.’ Calista smiled maliciously. She sounded pleased. ‘I admire someone who’s going to put up a fight.’

Lydia recoiled, Calista’s tone frightening her. She stepped back, and Calista took a step forward.

‘But no worries, baby.’ She purred, leering at Lydia. ‘You’ll be mine soon.’

Lydia tried to back away, but like before, her feet were glued to the floor. Calista reached out to her, dragging a long finger down her jaw line. Evil blue eyes pierced into frightened blue eyes.

‘I can feel you growing weaker, baby.’

Lydia shut her eyes, clenching her teeth. It’s just a dream, she told herself. It’s just a dream.

She felt Calista’s finger drag down her jawline, tracing the outline of her face.

She opened her eyes, finding Calista had leaned in to her. Lydia froze, too scared to move. ‘The weaker you are, the stronger I grow.’

Lydia woke up from the nightmare, gripping her sheets. She rolled onto her stomach, smothering her face into her pillow as she tried to steady her breath. 

She could still feel Calista’s touch lingering on her skin.

She looked at the clock, and it was only three a.m. Lydia knew she wouldn’t be falling back asleep, that she would be awake until the sun rose.

She laid there in bed, her mind racing. Although it was just a dream, Lydia wondered what Calista had meant.

The weaker you are, the stronger I grow.

What did that mean?

~*~

That morning, Lydia slumped through her apartment. She found jean shorts and a purple t-shirt to dress in. She went into the bathroom, looking at her reflection in the mirror. The dark circles underneath her eyes had seemed to become permanent. She did her best to conceal them with make up, but even then a person could still tell  that she hadn’t slept in months.

She needed some fresh air. Her pale skin needed to soak up some of the sun. Maybe it would be easier to breathe if she went outside for the day. She left her apartment, setting towards the streets of LA. It was around midmorning, and the city of lost angels was already filled with people. She felt the breath being squeezed right out of her lungs as the boom of the crowd’s voice crashed into her ears. She fought the desire to go home, knowing that she needed to get away from her apartment. She put on her mask, lying to the world that she was alright.

She strode down the sidewalk, keeping herself out of the way of people. She was suddenly engulfed by a sea of people, employees on their way to work. They pushed past her, brushing harshly against her shoulders. She held her breath hoping she would be spit out by the crowd soon. Her eyes darted in every direction, feeling as though she were teetering on an edge. She shoved her hands into her pockets, keeping her head down. The world was beginning to tip, and she was starting to feel as though she were walking sideways again.

Coffee, that’s what she needed. Her eyes began to scan the sidewalks of LA in search of a coffee shop. She began to walk faster, now that she had a motive. She didn’t have to walk much farther before she found a small barista shop nestled to the side of the street.

She pushed through the shop door, the ding of the bell igniting the whispers in her mind. Lydia padded through the coffee shop,  eyes roaming the menu that was nailed to the wall. Her mind was still on edge, and the words on the menu became jumbled and impossible to read. She couldn’t seem to get that shadow out of her mind. She swept up to the counter, grateful that there wasn’t a line.

She ordered a latte, which was served to her in a white coffee mug with a saucer. She normally preferred this coffee shop because it was so traditional. They didn’t believe in serving their customers coffee in a paper cup with a lid. They had class, something the other shops had lost. She took a seat by a small round table set by a huge window. She sipped her coffee, blue eyes carefully watching those around her. The sunlight cast itself through the window, heating her skin. She sighed, feeling at least slightly at ease.

‘Pretending that I don’t exist is only going to make everything worse.’

Lydia’s breath hitched as she realized Calista had spoken to her

No. This can’t be. Lydia was awake, a reality Calista was not allowed inside when she was awake. She was just a figment of her imagination. Calista wasn’t real, therefore she could only be in her dreams.

She heard someone laugh, and she realized it was her own laugh. No, Calista’s laugh. Inside her mind.

‘It’s actually quite amusing how much you deny my existence.’

Lydia’s fingers began to tremble, the voice in her head becoming louder. Because they were no longer jumbled whispers, no longer static from an untuned radio. They were words that she could understand. She reached out for the mug, accidentally pushing it over the table. It fell to the ground with a hushed crash, splintering into a million pieces. The contents spilled across the floor, making a mess.

Embarrassed, she sank to the ground to scoop them up. Her fingers trembled as she tried to clean up the mess. A pair of hands met hers, picking up the broken porcelain. Lydia looked up to the person helping her. It was a boy, probably around her age.

“Are you ok?” he asked as he scooped up the pieces into his large palm. He reached up to one of the tables to grab some napkins. He pressed them onto the floor, soaking up the coffee.

“Um, yeah.” she mumbled, reaching out for a sharp piece. 

“Ouch.” The sharp porcelain nicked her thumb. She pulled it away, eyeing the tiny drop of blood seeping from her finger.

“Be careful.” He looked at her finger, as if he wanted to reach out for it.

Lydia quickly sucked away the blood, then reached down again to pluck up the remaining pieces. An employee came to their aid, bringing a mop. They kindly told her that it was alright. She and the boy rose, hands full of the broken china.

The kind employee told them to dump the contents into the trash bin, and then she would take care of the rest. Lydia mumbled a soft sorry, in which the employee gave her a kind smile.

“It’s alright, sweetie. These things happen.”

Lydia turned to find the boy looking at her. She swallowed, suddenly finding herself distracted by the boy’s looks. He had a lean figure, but his arms were toned with strong muscles. His hair was as dark as night, the fringe brushing against the tip of his ears. He had a slim jaw line that seemed far too perfect. His lips were pulled into a kind smile. His eyes were the best part. They were a warm dark brown, a soft sparkle dancing within them.

“I’m Michael, by the way.” His smile widened a bit as he reached out to shake her hand. Hesitating at first, she then reached out to shake it. She saw him wince from her ice cold hand. But he didn’t let go. He held on, and Lydia found herself threatening to tremble.

He raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips.

She realized she hadn’t given him her name.

“Lydia.”

Michael was very tall, and he seemed to loom over her in a protective way.

“Come sit with me.” It was more of a suggestion then a question. She ushered her to a table in the corner of the shop. There was a cappuccino resting on it, only have sipped. They sat down across from each other. Michael ordered another cup of coffee for Lydia, who immediately protested.

“Don’t worry about it. I want to.”

Lydia clasped her hands together, once again trying to warm them. Also because Michael staring at her was making her nervous.

Her mind was silent at the moment, perhaps from the mishap that just occurred. Lydia forced herself to speak. “So what do you do?”

“I’m a writer.”

“Really? That’s impressive.” The low whispers in her mind threatened to arouse, and she wanted to do anything possible to drown them out.

“I guess I’m what you’d call a starving author.” he chuckled, his fingers playing with a square napkin. “It’s hard to find a publisher now days.”

“I can only imagine. The publishing industry seems like a place for ravenous wolves.”

Michael tilted his head to the side, smirking at Lydia. “So you mean authors are the wolves?”

Lydia blushed, clasping her hands even tighter. “In a way.”

“Do I look like a wolf to you?” he was smiling kindly at her.

“Not at all.”

A sparkle flitted through Michael’s eyes.

“Hence why you can’t find a publisher.” she finished. Michael’s cunning smile turned into a sheepish grin as his eyes nailed themselves to the table.

Lydia sipped her coffee, rummaging for something else to say. She pressed her cold fingers against the hot mug. She wanted more then anything to keep talking to Michael.

“How many stories have you written?”

“Far too many, I suppose. But only a handful I’m proud of.”

“How long have you been writing?” The whispers in her mind were becoming louder.

“Ever since I was around ten, I guess.”

“That’s a really long time.” Lydia giggled, impressed.

“Hopefully I’ve improved since then.” he chuckled, his smile becoming wider.

Lydia found herself wanting to read Michael’s stories, wanting to leaf through the pages that contained his thoughts and ideas. Lydia had always loved to read. They told her stories of characters that she only wished existed. They were her heroes. They were beautiful and broken, filled with trials and tribulations that left Lydia in tears. She never liked a story with a happy ending because it was misleading. Because real life didn't have a happy ending. Before the nightmares, a simple book would bring her peace. The pages that were peppered with beautiful words and riddled with commas and apostrophes soothed her. Now nothing brought her peace. Nothing could soothe her unsettled soul.

Michael looked out the window. “I think I’ve been in this cafe long enough.” he looked back at Lydia. “Do you want to come walk with me? You look like you need some fresh air.”

Lydia suddenly became shy, wondering if Michael noticed how exhausted she looked. 

“You look like you haven’t slept in a while.” Michael smirked, confirming her fear. Lydia suddenly became self conscious of the dark circles underneath her eyes.

“Uh, sure.” she mumbled, eyes falling to her empty mug. The bottom was stained with coffee grinds.

“Well, come on then.” They rose from the small table, making their way to the door.

The heat of the California sun washed over Lydia, loosening her tight skin. A soft sigh of relief slipped passed her lips. She breathed in deeply, letting her eyes close for a moment. The whispers in her mind again threatened to resurface.

Michael walked by her side, his long arms swinging by his sides. 

“So what do you do?”

She looked up at him, the sun in her eyes. “I’m a culinary art student.”

“Wow, that’s very cool.” Michael nodded, impressed.

Lydia bit her lip, the whispers becoming louder, distracting her.

“I’ll make you a deal.” Michael leaned forward, grinning at Lydia. She looked up at him again. “Since I bought you coffee, you can cook me something.”

Lydia caught herself smirking. “That doesn’t seem like a very even trade.”

“Oh but it is.” he assured playfully. “Me buying you coffee was very chivalrous of me.”

Lydia giggled, drinking in Michael’s humor.

They continued to walk together, the clattering voices of the crowd not as loud as before. Like the whispers, they became muffled as Lydia focused all of her attention on Michael. Vice versa, all of his attention was on her.

They spoke of things that were unimportant. Michael asked all sorts of questions. He asked her what her favorite food was. She said Italian. He asked her what she liked about Los Angeles. She said the summer heat. She found herself smiling, answering every one of Michael’s questions. He made her feel at ease. When he spoke to her, he kept his eyes on her. She admired the way his lips curled at the corners when he spoke. The way he tipped his head back when he laughed. How is hands moved and gestured with a mind of their own as he spoke. He had her undivided attention, wanting him to just keep talking. His eyes lit up when he asked her to talk about his writings. They remained lit as he told her of how much he loved to write. How he grew up with a tough childhood and how writing helped him through it. How children would pick on him when he wrote poems and sonnets. And she especially loved the way he opened up to her, as though he were a book himself. She loved the way he made her laugh, as though they’d been friends for years. They spoke for hours, losing track of time. Lydia wasn’t sure where the day went, but before they knew it, the sun was sinking behind the horizon. The soft orange glow outlined Michael’s face, enhancing his beauty. 

“There.” he smiled down at her, his lips pulled into what she already claimed as her favorite smile. “You look better already.”

“I look better?”

“You just looked kind of pale. You don’t anymore.”

Lydia’s cheeks must’ve added a bit more color, because she felt herself blush.

“Well anyway, I’m glad I met you.” Michael said, his smile pulling to one side. “Maybe I’ll see you again sometime.”

Lydia was only able to fit in a small goodbye as Michael drifted away before capturing one last glimpse of her. Michael that had definitely caught her attention. She wasn’t one to foolishly chase after someone who caught her eye. She was never the kind of girl to fall for the first boy she met, like other girls her age who tried to convince themselves that they were in love.

But yes, there was definitely something about Michael that caught her eye.

Lydia unlocked the door to her apartment, walking in with a light feeling in her chest. But soon it was quickly swept away by the whispers in her mind. They spoke in hushed voices, lacing through her mind. Michael was not there to hush them.

Lydia winced, a migraine ripping through her mind like claws to flesh. It was quick and without any warning. She shut her eyes, whimpering from the pain.

‘You can’t get away from me, sweetie.’ Calista’s voice entered her thoughts. ‘You can’t run away from me.’

Lydia whimpered, groping through her apartment. Her legs buckled, and she fell to the ground. The migraine pulsed through her mind, the searing heat riddling her motionless. She felt nauseous, and she refused to open her eyes for fear the room was spinning.

‘No matter how hard you try.’