Love At First Death

Elysia sat on the edge of the bed, staring at Damien as he leaned against the door, his arms crossed and jaw clenched. The room was suffocatingly quiet, save for the faint hum of the flickering light above.

"So..." she began, breaking the silence. "Are you going to explain what just happened, or should I start drafting my will?"

Damien's eyes flicked to her, sharp as a blade. "Don't joke about things you don't understand."

She scoffed, folding her arms. "I'm not joking. There was a creepy voice outside. A voice. Do you get how not normal that is?"

"I'm handling it," Damien said curtly.

"Right, because that's super reassuring," she muttered. "What was it, anyway? A ghost? A psychopath? An... angry ex?"

His lips twitched, but the amusement didn't reach his eyes. "Not an ex. And definitely not something you should concern yourself with."

"Great. Back to the whole 'keep Elysia in the dark' strategy. That's been working so well."

Damien sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Do you ever stop talking?"

"Not when I'm terrified out of my mind," she shot back. "And don't think I didn't notice the fact that you looked... rattled out there. That's new for you."

"I wasn't rattled," he said, his voice low and firm.

"Uh-huh," she said, unconvinced. "Because everyone looks like they've seen a ghost when they're totally fine."

Damien straightened, his eyes narrowing. "Enough."

Elysia flinched but didn't back down. "You can't keep shutting me out, Damien. If I'm in danger, I deserve to know why!"

He was in front of her in two strides, his towering frame making her feel small but not insignificant. His voice was softer this time, almost regretful. "You're not in danger."

"Oh, really?" she challenged, standing up. "Because creepy voices and ominous tapping just scream 'safe and sound.'"

Damien hesitated, a crack in his otherwise impenetrable armor. "It's... complicated."

"Of course it is," she muttered. "Everything with you is complicated."

He reached out, surprising her, and gently placed a hand on her shoulder. "Elysia, listen to me. I need you to trust me. Just this once."

She blinked up at him, caught off guard by the rare softness in his tone. "Fine," she said after a long pause. "But only if you promise to stop treating me like a clueless child."

His lips quirked into a faint smirk. "No promises."

She rolled her eyes but didn't push further. "So, what now?"

"Now," Damien said, stepping back, "you stay in this room, and I figure out who– or what– decided to pay us a visit."

"Alone?" she asked, incredulous.

"I work better that way," he said simply.

Elysia frowned, watching as he moved toward the door. "Just... don't die, okay?"

He paused, glancing over his shoulder. "Don't get your hopes up."

She huffed as he disappeared into the hallway again, leaving her alone with her thoughts– and the oppressive silence.

Minutes ticked by, each one stretching into an eternity. Elysia found herself pacing again, muttering under her breath. "Stay here, he says. Don't ask questions, he says. I'm not a child, he says– and yet here I am, locked in a room like one."

A sudden knock at the door froze her mid-step. It wasn't Damien's knock– she was sure of that. This one was slow, deliberate, and unnervingly loud.

Her heart leapt into her throat. "D-Damien?" she called out, her voice trembling.

No response.

She backed away from the door, her mind racing. She could feel her pulse in her ears, drowning out the silence. Then the knock came again, louder this time.

"Who's there?" she demanded, her voice breaking.

The answer was a low, guttural chuckle that sent chills down her spine.