Sometimes, life is unpredictable. However, it usually tends more toward the negative than the positive. I always asked the higher power for something nice to happen to me because I had been unfortunate my entire life. God never answered my prayers, yet I feel compelled to pray because I need some hope. Someone who will bring some luck into my life.

The first time I truly prayed to God was when my mother died.

Of course, my mother did not rise from the dead. I had hoped she would after I prayed a couple of times on my knees in church. I was a silly child.

I know it's unreasonable to simply deny God after growing up worshiping him. But I have realized he never helped me. He never answered my prayers. So, why should I continue to worship him?

I believe there's a higher power, and I pray to that. Whoever or whatever it is giving me hope that my life may get better. Even the tiniest hope is better than nothing.

The most unpredictable scene I could have pictured in my head was a man lying in my bed while his face was buried in my chest. If someone told me this was going to happen, I'd probably jump in front of a moving car.

My hatred toward men started when I learned my father left my mother because he only wanted sex and not a baby to take care of. My foolish mother loved that prick and even married him. She tried to convince him that I was a piece of joyful news. He, on the other hand, couldn't give a damn about his care for me.

After he left my mother, allegedly he had found a younger, more beautiful woman. Which had no desire to bear a child.

My grandmother told me everything she knew once I came of age. Things my mother wouldn't tell me because she was probably ashamed. Later on, she came to the realization that my father was nothing but a piece of trash. However, the knowledge came far too late.

Why do women always make the wrong choice when picking the right man? Don't they see what a monster is right beside them?

I've never been in love, and I have no desire to be till the right and fine man finds me. A man with purity behind his eyes. The one who will shed light into my darkness.

And that someone is most definitely not the man curled onto my body like a serpent.

"If you don't pull away in three seconds, I will shred you to pieces." I softly said.

"One."

"Two."

Why is he not pulling away?

"Three-" He swiftly pulled away, raising his hands as if he had been caught stealing.

I had to remind myself why he was in my house and inside my bed and in my sheets I would have to put in the washer. I cannot stand outside clothes inside my comfortable, soft, fluffy bed.

The reason was me.

When I focused on his facial features, I saw a glimpse of darkness. His eyes weren't so bright, and the wide smile was gone. Maybe I was reading too much into it, but at that moment, I nearly killed myself as my heart raced with seconds.

I shifted to the edge of the bed and landed on my back as I hit the floor.

He suddenly woke up from the trance he was in and jumped out of bed. "I'm forever in debt. Thank you." He kindly said, and passed through me. His steps weren't heard, but I thought they would be extremely loud due to his thick platform combat boots.

Embarrassment crawled through my body. Perhaps I was the one in a trance. No man has ever touched me like he did. And even though I hated it, I only missed the warmth of his large hands that radiated on my back.

I snuck back into my bed and caught the scent of a man's cologne. Bergamot, plum, and pear dominated. Those notes I could easily recognize. Who would have thought that a man could smell so pleasant?

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

My eyelids slowly fell as they got heavy, and I couldn't resist the slumber. The smell somehow magically turned my nightmares, which I was usually dreaming of, into a peaceful, serene place full of clouds. I felt safe and secure, knowing that I was away from the horrors of my dreams surrounding me with the scent of a man, which I knew nothing about.

It feels strange to be in the presence of a man I barely know. But I longed to know more people. Someone I could be close with. Madeline as my first female friend, and him for maybe something like a friendship.

I just needed someone to want me.

• • •

The next day I spent home since I had a deal with my boss to have one day off to take care of our household. Grandma is too old to do everything by herself, even though she's pretty capable of moving.

I started cleaning the kitchen with some music blasting from my phone. I moved my hips to the beat of the song and swayed my way down. I was crouched down, humming the lyrics.

Where there's music, there's me. If there's no music, don't expect me.

When I finished the kitchen, all shining with cleanliness, I moved on to the living room, where we spent most of the time. I'll spare you the details of how much dust was sitting on the television and how I almost fell from the ladder as I was cleaning the top of the porcelain cabinet full of ancient dinner sets.

Slowly, I cleaned the bathroom and Grandma's room. Lastly, I moved to my own room, which was a big mess. I checked the time on my phone and was in complete shock.

It was eight o'clock. And I haven't eaten or drunk anything. All I was doing was cleaning like a freak. And even though I tried to convince myself that it was because I enjoy cleaning, the true reason was different.

I was scared.

I tried to act brave, but it was only a disguise. Just knowing that a total maniac knows where I live and can freely enter my home is enough to make me pee myself. Who wouldn't?

I cannot stand the feeling of loneliness when I know someone is trying to get me. Grandma is old, and she couldn't help us. I know that, but I don't want to be alone. I don't want to feel my trembling legs, as I expect that someone will break down the front door and kill me.

What does he want from me anyway?

I cannot give him money since I don't have any. I only acted kind and offered him my beer because I was extremely drunk, and I thought he was a normal person.

Why do I have to suffer again? Wasn't I punished enough?

• • •

It seemed that sleep was something I lacked because I fell asleep once again. I rose up from the ground that I lay on and tottered out of my room downstairs.

I gripped the railing of the wooden staircase tightly. I quickly took steps down the stairs, brushing my fingers on the railing.

The television was on, playing, and I could recognize the sound of the rocking chair that my Grandma always sits on.

As I was about to finish the last step, I froze. Grandma wasn't alone in the living room. Someone else was there, talking with her.

I unfroze and finished the last step. I stayed hidden behind the wall that separated the living room from the entrance hall.

Instead of a sitcom, a music channel was on, which was pretty unusual for Grandma to listen to.

The rocking sound of the chair was persistent.

"Are you taking me?" Grandma asked with a high-pitched voice.

"No." The voice belonged to a man.

"Not yet." He laughed.

"Ahh, I'm so glad to hear that. I couldn't imagine leaving her here all alone suddenly. Poor girl. She's been through so much, and I feel like I failed her in some ways that I couldn't replace her mother as I wished I could."

Is she talking about me?

"The last page of your book is not yet written, Eleanor. Do not worry. You did the best you could." The man said it with a calm, light voice. It almost sounded comforting.

I peeked into the living room, first noticing Grandma and then changing my gaze to the left side of the room.

"So, I guess you'll be leaving empty-handed." Grandma chuckled.

"I never leave empty-handed. Be sure of that."

His gaze was immediately drawn to me. I slammed myself against the wall, pressing my hand onto my chest. My heart was racing like wild horses being chased. I slapped my mouth and breathed through my nose since I did not want to make any sounds.

I squeezed my eyes shut in the hope I wouldn't see the freak in front of me. It was impossible for me not to think about his image. The sight of his black cloak and the mystery of his hidden face sent shivers down my spine.

It cannot be what I think it is, right? I thought to myself.

As I crept over the wall, I clung to it with my hands to keep myself steady. My breathing shuddered as I cautiously scanned the room. Grandma was in the exact same spot, except when I looked at the television, a sitcom was playing instead of music.

I looked to the other side of the room, where he had previously stood, but he wasn't there.

I returned myself to the wall, letting out heavy breaths. I turned my head to the stairs, and decided to go back to my room. I had to be alone, just with my thoughts. And talking to Grandma wouldn't help me understand what I just witnessed. Actually, it would make it even worse. How did Grandma know him? Is this the first time he has shown himself to her?

I crashed down on the bed, running my hands through my hair. I sighed in frustration. I couldn't shake off the feeling of defeat as I sat there, my mind swirling with thoughts of all the things that had gone wrong, and all of the things that might go wrong.

I quickly rose up and headed to the bathroom. I opened the water tap and swung my hands under the stream of icy-cold water. I cupped my hands together until they were full of water and splashed it against my face.

When I rose my posture to look at myself in the mirror, a figure in a black cloak was standing behind me.

"BOO!"