Claimed by Darkness

You only hear him when you sleep on your back.” Every night, I woke up unable

to breathe, feeling something heavy pinning me down. Doctors said sleep

paralysis. But a demon’s breath doesn’t sound like your own. It was wet,

slow, inches from my face. I forced myself to stay still one night,

pretending to be asleep. Cold fingers traced my jawline, then slid up my

forehead. A deep voice whispered, “Not yet.” When I finally broke free,

the room was empty — but five long scratches burned across my ribs. The next morning,

a symbol appeared on my neck, carved into the skin. I searched it online.