Page 32 of Dark Awakening

Yup, I've gone nuts. Somebody call the funny farm 'cause I need to be checked in, STAT.

I squeeze my eyes shut, desperately clinging to fraying threads of reality and reason. Maybe if I just don't look for a minute, the madness will pass.

But even with eyes closed, the otherworldly radiance pierces through.

Keep it together, girl. Breathe. You're not possessed or radioactive. This is just a momentary lapse of mental cohesion.

But then I catch sight of my disco ball hands again—reason flees, shrieking into oblivion.

Who am I kidding? The looney bin awaits!

As I stare at my flaming palms, images begin flashing through my mind—visions of strange lands and magical creatures I've never seen before. A mystical voice seems to echo through my head, urging me forward, guiding me toward the shimmering doorway I somehow know has been opened before me.

I don't know how, but I can sense this new portal beckoning me, inviting me to step through into the unknown. The flames in my hands flare brighter, responding to my thoughts. I know deep within me that this mystical fire has unlocked something within me, tearing open something to unexplored places and granting me access to extraordinary new powers and possibilities. I gulp down a lungful of oxygen, trying desperately to steady myself amid a dizzying array of emotions.

Desperate to regain control, I rush to the sink, the cool water providing a temporary respite. The glow gradually fades as the water flows over my trembling hands, leaving me breathless and confused. Drops of water cling to my skin, reflecting the remnant's last traces of the mystical radiant luminescence that had captivated and enthralled me only moments ago.

I reel back in shock, my heart hammering against my rib cage.

What in the actual fuck?

There is no denying it—My hands glow and radiate blistering heat! I make a silent vow; I’d dive deeper and uncover the truth—no matter what. Once I get my hands under control, I slip into a form-fitting pencil skirt that hugs me in all the right places. On top is a soft, flowing blouse with a delicate floral pattern.

I gape at my reflection, glowing like a human nightlight suddenly switched on.

What sorcery is this? Did I stick my finger into a nuclear-powered outlet? Fall into a vat of radium like some sort of ray gun-wielding superhero?

I take a deep, calming breath. Perhaps I’m the victim of some cosmic practical joke. Abducted by cheeky extraterrestrials on a joyride who decided to zap my skin cells for giggles. Or maybe just be a healthy glow and my makeup mirror lighting playing tricks.

But my skeptical, sci-fi-loving brain whispers, “Girl, your highlight did NOT just kick into intergalactic overdrive.”

I head to the kitchen to brew a pot of coffee to shake off whatever is happening to me. The aroma fills the air, awakening my senses. I'm feeling overwhelmed, not knowing what to do. A part of me wants to call Emily and tell her about my second strange encounter with the stalker dude and my inexplicable ability to make my fingers light up like glow sticks. But the other part wants to figure it out for myself first.

My finger hovers over the call button, contemplating. Ultimately, I keep it to myself, savoring the memories and my freaky glow show, allowing them to linger in secrecy.

Instead, I open my social media apps and begin scrolling. As I scroll through my feed, an event catches my eye—the Twisted Masquerade Ball.

I remember Emily and I have plans to attend, and we have our fitting for the gowns today.

Azrael Blackwood—a wealthy and influential figure known for his success in the business world. His company, Nightfall Industries, holds vast power and resources, making him a force to be reckoned with.

The ball, a mysterious and enchanting event, is rumored to be a grand fundraiser, but whispers of darker undertones linger beneath the luxury and glamour. Yet, as a respected doctor, I had received an invitation, along with other esteemed professionals and high-ranking individuals. It is an opportunity to engage with influential minds and contribute to meaningful causes.

The coffee machine beeps, signaling my cup of warmth and energy is ready. Time is of the essence, so I quickly finish my coffee, pouring the remaining liquid into a to-go cup for the drive.

I grab my bag, double-check that I have everything I need for the day ahead, step out the door, and prepare my mind for today's work.

The sun's rays glint off the sleek black paint of my car as I pull into the parking spot bearing my name. Seeing those bold white letters fills me with a sense of satisfaction and pride; they represent the years of dedication to my craft that have led me to this coveted position. I take a moment to appreciate the accomplishment before grabbing my phone to text Emily.

My fingers dance across the keyboard as I remind her about our fitting tonight for the gowns we'll wear to the hospital's annual masquerade ball fundraiser.

Emily's enthusiastic response pops up instantly, the dancing lady emoji assuring me she hasn't forgotten our plans. I grin and reply with a kiss emoji, grateful for my best friend.

I climb out of the car, smooth down my pencil skirt, and head into the building.

As I enter the lobby, Tony greets me with his usual warm smile and friendly salutation. "Good morning, Dr. Pierce! You're looking lovely as always."

"Thank you, Tony. It's nice to see you as well," I reply sincerely. "How is your family doing?"

---