Thrum

by Meg Smitherman

He’s watching me with an almost overwhelming intensity, his unblinking black eyes framed by unnaturally long lashes, head tilted down slightly, as if he’s starving and I’m a meal.

that’s suspicious……that’s weird

And I see it there — a towering black shape in the corner. Watching me. His eyes catch the false starlight and glint like ghostly orbs. Dorian. I sit up, adrenaline streaking through my veins. The light flickers on at my movement, and I blink in the brightness. He’s gone.

this is so sketchyyyyy

“I’m sorry,” Dorian murmurs, halting, his voice muffled. He’s buried his face in my hair. His breath is hot on my ear. “There was nothing I could do.” Like a pale light flickering on, a thought cuts through the fog: he’s upset. Sad for me. Trying to comfort this soft human who drifted into his corner of space. But something in his voice betrays him — he didn’t mean to say what he just did. Or perhaps he thought I wouldn’t hear it. He senses my hesitation, this moment of clarity, and his body stiffens.

🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨

“The last of my kind.” An evasion. “But what is your kind?” He hooks a finger under my chin, tipping me up to him like an offering, our gazes locked. My chest and heart are loud with flowing blood, as if my pulse is rushing all around me, threatening to drown us in red, red, red. His voice is little more than a whisper. “I’m whatever you want me to be, Ami.”

i don’t trust this mother fucker….ami girl you gotta RUN

But it’s not my comb. I don’t even use combs — all I have to do is run my fingers through my fine black hair a few times, and it’s done. But I know this comb. It’s Vasilissa’s comb. “What the fuck,” I say like it's a prayer, turning the comb over and over in my hands.

what the fuuuuuck

I should get out of bed and write this down. I should have records of every interaction, every strange occurrence. But I’m too tired, too relaxed. It doesn’t matter. I’ll do it when I wake. I’m perfectly safe.

girl no you ain’t!!!!!!!

“Ami,” he groans. “I’ve waited so long for you.” I don’t know what that means, and I don’t care. Maybe I’ve waited for him too. I came all this way, light-years and light-years, and I found him. Why shouldn’t I surrender to this?

that’s!!!! suspicious!!!! that’s!!!! WEIRD!!!!!!!!!!!

“I couldn’t have done anything,” I say again, weakly this time, backing away from this imaginary Lily. “I was asleep too.” And then Lily is there. Solid, colorful, human. But her eyes are wide and unearthly, and as she moves toward me, her face begins to contort. A dark stain appears on her chest, spreading, dark dark red, blood seeping from a wound.

what the FUCK is going ON

But something in me flickers, a distant incredulity. “Dorian, are you saying that the bleeding walls, my dead crew, they’re hallucinations?” “Yes,” he purrs. “Nothing will hurt you. None of it is real.”

ami don’t trust him girl you gotta get out

For one mad, fraction of a second, I think he’s going to attack me. His gaze darkens, his nostrils flare, and a shadow passes over his unearthly features, rendering him terrifying and inescapable, an apex predator ready to spring.

what the fuuuuuck is doriaannnn

He makes love to me in the corridor. I kiss him, hungry, and he knows exactly where and how to touch me; how to make my body and mind completely helpless. He’s painfully real to me, and I need him, and his low murmurs of satisfaction wind through me like a thread of comfort.

bitch stop FUCKING the ALIEN he’s DICKNOTIZING YOU

And she begins to unfold her skin, peeling it away as if it’s a garment, revealing bright red blood and sinew and moon-white bone, pulsing veins, glistening muscle. I scream, at last, and everything goes dark.

mom can you please come pick me up i’m scared

“What is this room?” I demand, my voice hoarse, barely above a whisper. “What is this ship? What is—” My stomach lurches as I realize, belatedly, what he said. The effects we’d have. The first time we’ve truly seen you. “Dorian. Who’s we?”

yea dorian who the FUCK is WE

“Don’t you feel it?” she whispers. “You’re different here. The way you look at him… and the way he looks at you. Something’s happening to you, MiMi.”

No matter how many times you try to go, you always come back.

what the hellyyyyy

Mahdi shrugs. “Just saying,” he grumbles, getting to his feet. “You’ve seen her Psych Eval. I’d keep her under watch if I were you.”

oh my god did she fucking kill them??? i’m starting to think she killed them

I did it while they slept. No one woke, not one of them knew they were dying. I contained the blood as best I could, and when each of them was gone, I turned off the artificial grav and carried them one by one to the med bay. I cleaned their bodies, the floors, their bunks. I changed their clothes. I zipped them up in the pods, nice and tight, and I lay them to rest. And then, finally, I was free to return. They wouldn’t try to stop me again. They should have let me stay with him. If they’d only let me stay. Mahdi was right. They should have locked me up.

oh my god yea she fuckin killed them

In the distance, a deep thrum, thrum, thrum sings through me, inside of me, filling my senses until I’m full of it, overflowing with it, overcome. But I welcome it, revel in it. And the sound responds in kind, caressing, soothing, soaking me in. I am part of it, made whole from it, completed by it. By him. And I am not afraid.

I am safe. I am home.

ami…….girl……i was rooting for u