She was there today. I came home from work, got home ahead of everyone else, and when I opened the door to my bedroom, that dry air from the mirror was there to greet me. Tiny motes floated to the floor, glinting in the dying sunlight.
She was in my bed, covers over her lower body, lounging comfortably. I was a bit uncomfortable at first, because I thought she was naked. That's when she noticed me.
"I've been waiting for you all day. Where've you been?" Her voice was lilting, musical in its' curiosity. I averted my gaze as she raised her head towards me. Everything felt odd; the air seemed thick around me, my limbs felt heavy. "Who are you?" I managed to utter, tongue feeling thick and fuzzy. She let out a quick laugh. It was the most beautiful laugh I'd ever heard...but there was something almost bitter, almost sarcastic behind the notes it carried. There was something off about her almost-caramel toned skin, something-
"I'm Typhonia." She shifted on the bed, posture showing signs of irritation. Her legs seemed very thick under the covers. I noticed these odd bumps on her skin. "Look, Silas," she began, "that's your name, right?" I nodded, mute. There were fewer motes in the air now. There was definitely some discolouration wherever those bumps were. As she twitched her legs, they seemed to move at exactly the same time, in one rhythm almost too coordinated.
"Silas, you're unhappy. You're tired of everyone treating you so badly. You're so, so full of hurt." Her voice carried an edge of real sympathy. I stumbled, eyes still travelling up and down her body. She sinuously brought a hand up, caressing her neck where my bite would be. Those bumps were defined now, small diamond shapes, almost...callouses?
"We're connected, you and I. I know what you're feeling. I know how much they hurt you," There was no small amount of venom in her tone, "but I can make it better."
"I can make the pain stop." I froze again. The blankets shifted every so slightly. Those callouses were all over her legs, close together. "All you have to do is follow someone, okay? Pick the person who's worst to you, and follow them for me. Can you do that?"
The last mote hit the ground. Everything was suddenly clear. The callouses were scales. Those legs weren't legs, they weren't even limbs. A tail was gently swaying beneath the blankets on my bed. This snake woman was moving towards me now, drawing me closer.
I managed to answer, edging slowly, carefully back as I spoke. "No." I saw her mouth, lips dark and full, unable to contain the yellowed points of her fangs.
"Oh, honey." I finally looked her in the eyes, met those green, serpentine eyes, a knee-jerk reaction. I felt myself being pulled away, the world falling out from under me. My head swam, and everything but her eyes blurred out of focus. She spoke again, and that melodic voice rang in my ears.
"You really shouldn't have said that."
She coiled herself around me, scales chafing and cutting as they crushed my legs together. I felt her strength when she wrenched my arm in front of me...though those deep, faceted eyes locked me down, prevented me from doing much more than lamely squirming. She grabbed my hand firmly, carefully splaying my fingers out. I saw her hands, claws thick and sharp. She slid one under my thumb nail, cutting deeply.
"Now, you have to understand. I don't like doing this-" She wrenched it free, clumps of flesh coming off. I screamed, but didn't blink. My eyes watered, my throat became raw. "-but you force me to punish you-" She picked my index finger next. "-when you disobey me like that!" Her tone was chastising as she pulled another nail out.
Nine nails later. My throat was bloody. My eyes were red, hurting, my head throbbed. She'd left me with a pat on the back as I lay in agony on the bed. The bite on my neck felt as though it was on fire. I'm not going through that again, not ever again. She can find me, I know it, I saw her looking through a bathroom window. The bite caught fire when her gaze turned sour, and I was sent to the nurse's office. I can't escape her. She'll hurt me again if I don't listen.
But my foster family didn't notice. Didn't care. They didn't bother asking why I was wearing gloves in May. I was gritting through it all, resolved to ignore her, determined to be better. Then Russell called me a faggot before class, dumb little buddies all a-grin. I listened to him egg them on as they took turns insulting me.
That's why I'm following him.
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