Chapter Text
Sleep
The pain lasted only a second—barely even that. The sharp prick of a needle faded quickly, followed by the unmistakable sensation of something that didn’t belong in his bloodstream, like oil trying its best to mix with water. Bennett never noticed the door quietly unlocking, nor the footsteps drawing closer with every passing moment. The thought never occurred to him that someone uninvited had welcomed themselves into his quaint apartment. And it still hadn’t occurred to him why.
Bennett was sitting at his desk, studying for a college assignment due this weekend, though that felt like a distant memory now. One moment he was reading the pages of a book needed for school; the next, he was fighting for the strength not to close his eyes and fall into the realm of sleep.
“It’s okay.
The bags under your eyes.
The heaviness in your arms.
You are already so tired.
There’s no need to fight it.”
It was a man’s voice, so soft and gentle that it barely sounded louder than a whisper. Yet that whisper felt as though it were spoken directly into his ear. No—that wasn’t quite right. The sound seemed to rest within his ear, rather than the air surrounding it. The man was still behind him—he was sure of it—yet he couldn’t feel a physical presence. Could he really be that close to him?
The sounds of the street outside slowly grew quieter. What had once been bustling with cars and people now seemed vacant, despite that not matching what he could still see through the window. The music he had been playing to help him concentrate melded together, becoming indistinguishable notes until it finally dissolved into white noise.
He had recently been experiencing symptoms of illness: blurred vision, heaviness as if wading through malaise, headaches, and body aches. But right now, he experienced these sensations at their most intense.
“You silly students.
So tired all the time.
Work over rest is so often praised.
I suppose that is why I am needed after all, or else you would work yourself to death.”
Bennett couldn’t focus on the man’s voice. He tried his hardest, but the meaning of the words wouldn’t stick. Instead, he focused on his apartment, which seemed to have grown darker, save for the single candle he had lit so he could read. He had always preferred candlelight over electric; it felt calmer, more inviting. Less clinical—and in some strange way, safer.
Between the heaviness settling into his body, the soothing fire, and the strange sedative unwillingly administered into his system, he was finally compelled to lower his head toward the desk. It didn’t feel like much of a choice; his body was giving in before he could truly accept the decision.
Before his head hit the wooden surface, the man caught him. Maybe he truly was that close after all. He laid Bennett down so gently on the desk it felt as though he were being handled like porcelain. The only thing Bennett noticed about the man’s physical appearance was that he wore gloves.
“There, there. Isn’t that so much better? I promise, when you wake, you will feel so refreshed.”
When you wake?
All Bennett could think was why? What would happen when he was out? Was he being kidnapped? Was waking up just a lie meant to make him feel better? His thoughts began to race, but his body remained sluggish.
“Oh my. You didn’t tell me you had a friend coming over. That’s a shame, I planned on staying a little longer”
Bennett couldn’t hear much, but he knew he couldn't hear any sounds suggesting another break-in. Whether that was due to him fading out of consciousness or the skill of whoever was entering his home, he couldn’t tell. He hadn’t planned for anyone to visit that day—maybe it was the police. Were they here to help him?
Despite everything, the man didn’t sound bothered at all. Only a slight disappointment, accompanied by a small sigh.
Bennett’s mind began to slow, sinking until it matched the tempo of his body. He wanted to form a question—better yet, a full sentence—but all he could manage was a single word.
“Why?”
There was no response. Only a small breeze drifted by, nudging the candle’s flame just enough to make him fear it might go out. The candle was so warm, so inviting. The effort of staying awake hurts more than letting go. Maybe it really was okay to fall asleep. With that quiet permission, his eyes fluttered closed.
“My goodness, what happened to you? You could make trash look like a model by comparison! Looks like the guy got away—slippery one. Oh, hey! Don’t go to sleep on me just yet; I’ve got some questions for you!”
This new voice was the complete opposite of soft and gentle. It was sharp with mockery and utterly lacking in grace. It carried urgency. It clashed harshly with the dreamlike voice he had heard tonight—the one that prized steadiness above all else. In his current state, Bennett almost preferred the other voice as he drifted toward sleep.
This new one was simply annoying.