Few dreams stayed with her once the responsibilities of the day settled on her shoulders. But those eyes—those terrible, flashing eyes—clung to her, appearing behind every blink, waiting in the cracks of her mind.
She had been visited once again. It was becoming a nightly torment she had no way to dispel. She was worn down, losing her public-facing mask.
All Cass wanted was to go home.
Standing outside her door, she felt an unfamiliar knot of unease twist in her stomach. It was quiet—too quiet for this time of day. Normally, her neighbors could be heard laughing, music blaring, and the constant hum of footsteps echoing through the hall. But today? Silence.
She pushed the door open and stepped inside. The apartment greeted her with the same muted atmosphere—familiar yet unsettling. The black-and-white striped wallpaper, so bold when she first moved in, now felt oppressive, the red pomegranate designs like scattered bloodstains in the dim light.
She almost slipped on something slick.
Cass froze, staring down at the wet floor. "The puddle from this morning?" She let out a shaky laugh, trying to dispel her own nervousness. A mess—both her apartment and her mind.
It was just a bad dream. Get over it.
The room was as she left it: disheveled, scattered with signs of a hurried morning. Doors open. Bedding tangled across the floor. She could feel the weight of exhaustion dragging her down, even as she tried to restore some semblance of order, humming softly to herself.
Tea. Yes. Tea would help.
She tossed loose tea leaves into a pot without much care—cinnamon, star anise, honey. Comfort in a cup. As it brewed, she distracted herself by transcribing her class notes, desperate to lose herself in the mundane.
But the stillness of the room wrapped around her like a heavy blanket. As she sipped her tea, she felt it—something in the corner of her eye, a presence in the shadows at the foot of her bed. Her heart skipped a beat.
It’s just the dark. Just your imagination.
And yet, as the silence deepened, she felt it growing. Watching her. Waiting.
She slid into bed, pulling the covers tightly around herself. Sleep wouldn’t come—not with that feeling hovering over her. She glanced at the little frying pan she’d placed by her bedside in a fit of paranoia. It felt ridiculous now, but somehow, its presence was comforting. She closed her eyes, hoping the sensation would pass.
But then the eyes returned.
A sharp pressure pinned her down—her body paralyzed, her mind screaming to move, to fight, but her limbs refused. She felt her breath quicken as the darkness pressed in closer, suffocating her, until—
"Be still. I’m not going to hurt you tonight. I just want another look."
Cass’s heart leapt into her throat. The voice was close. Too close. A figure loomed over her, pulling back her sheets with casual ease, its face a blur of shadows and flashing eyes. She strained to move, to scream, but nothing came.
"You resist so much, yet to my eyes, you look peaceful. Like the dead." The figure’s breath brushed her ear, its voice low, mocking. It reached out, almost tenderly, before frustration flickered across its face. "What game are you playing, girl? You look like one of them. You walk like them. But something’s off. What are you hiding?"
The figure vanished, only to reappear by her bedside, pacing furiously, its form rippling with anger. Then, it was back—looming over her, its face inches from hers.
"If I lift this enchantment, will you speak? Or do I need to remind you what I’m capable of?"
A sick smile twisted its lips. "You’ll tell me what I need to know, or I will rip you apart from the inside."
But before the threat could be carried out, a blur of motion barreled into the figure, sending it crashing against the far wall. The room exploded into chaos as a heavy, rounded creature descended upon the intruder, its form a riot of pastel colors and strange shapes. They grappled in the darkness, and Cass could only watch, heart hammering, as the shadowy figure was overwhelmed.
Then, silence.
The colorful creature emerged from the darkness, panting slightly. It was... bizarre. It was like looking through a kaleidoscope—soft, rainbow-hued, and fragmented in some way. It turned to Cass, its red eyes gleaming.
"You won’t have to worry about him anymore!"
Cass blinked, her brain struggling to catch up with the absurdity before her. The creature grinned, its garish appearance almost comical.
"So garish..." she stammered, trying to make sense of it all. "Even in the dim light..."
"What! Is that an insult? I am like the covenantal rainbow. Like unbreakable gemstone. A promise. Funwa," it said, beaming brightly. "Unlike that self-serving man-whore. He’s been sniffing around you for a while. Not anymore." It strikes a heroic stance. "I'm Funwa, your guardian angel."
"Never seen an angel gore someone before."
Funwa grinned wider, if that was possible. "I hate evil." Without letting her interject, he continued, a tinge of solemn darkness seeping into his voice. "It looks like you’ll be seeing more of me. He's bound to return, but I'll be waiting this time."
Cass shook her head, barely able to keep up with him. "I only pay rent for one. Good or bad, I'm not welcoming any spirits here."
Funwa looked at her critically. "None? Even the driest man has a soul. No, his unnatural attraction towards you leaves you too vulnerable and presents too easy an opportunity for me."
Cass sighed. "I'm exhausted, just do whatever you want then I'll deal with you in the morning."