Trick or Tempt Me (Worshipped by Darkness)

Chapter 1

I

I was walking home after work, exhausted from dealing with idiots and staring at a computer screen for twelve straight hours.

I was tired like a dog, and the cold that had been knocking me down for days didn’t make things any better.

My eyes burned from the fever, and I cursed everything in my path on the way back.

It was Halloween! My favorite night of the year.

I’d been looking forward to it for weeks.

But instead of celebrating, I was dragging my half-dead body through the rain.

My Daenerys costume from Game of Thrones, which I’d proudly worn five years in a row, wouldn’t see the light of day tonight.

The only plan I had left was to swallow a handful of cold medicine and collapse into bed, hoping to somehow survive until the weekend.

All my colleagues had gone straight to the club after work to party, and there I was, trudging home through the storm, practically on the verge of tears from sheer fatigue. Angry, feverish, and frustrated, I felt like a rabid dog, ready to bark, bite, or tear anyone apart who dared to speak to me.

The rain hammered against my umbrella, a relentless, mocking rhythm.

I was sick of holding it, and the curved handle rubbed against my fingertips like sandpaper.

Everything about it irritated me, the texture, the weight, the damn noise of the rain drowning out the music in my headphones.

I couldn’t hear a single note anymore. The rain was louder, my thoughts even louder than that.

My focus slipped inward, into that strange haze between exhaustion and delirium, where everything felt distant and unreal.

I kept praying I’d make it home before I fainted in some alley, imagining myself waking up robbed or worse.

The thought made me shiver, or maybe that was just the icy rain soaking through my black coat.

It clung to me like a second skin, heavy and cold, leaving only my head dry beneath the trembling umbrella.

Growling under my breath, I dodged puddles that had swallowed chunks of the broken asphalt, cursing whoever designed the city’s streets “through the ass,” as always.

My eyes burned terribly, maybe from staring at the screen, maybe from the fever, maybe from the sheer, raw irritation that simmered inside me.

By the time I finally reached my building, the towering structure glowed with windows lit in every color, each one framing people celebrating Halloween. Laughter and music spilled faintly into the street. Meanwhile, I was about to crawl into bed like the dead.

For a second, I paused at the door and thought. Maybe I should just take the pills and push through it. Go to the club. Celebrate. Do something reckless. But even that thought was too heavy to hold. My mind fogged over, and I realized I didn’t even have the strength to think anymore.

I opened the door slowly, the faint creak echoing in the quiet hall. Water dripped from my umbrella onto the floor. My leather shoes squelched with every step, they were so soaked through despite their thick platforms. Even they had surrendered to the puddles.

I sniffled, my nose completely stuffed, and blinked a few times before stepping inside.

Closing the umbrella, I watched the raindrops slide down and splatter across the white marble floor of the lobby.

The concierge’s desk was empty, the small lamp on it turned off, she must have wandered off somewhere.

I pressed the elevator button… or at least I thought I did.

After standing there for a couple of minutes, staring blankly at the closed doors, I realized nothing had happened.

Apparently, I was so drained I didn’t even have the strength to press a damn button.

On the tenth attempt, the white light finally flickered on, and I nearly nodded off waiting for it to arrive.

When it did, I stumbled inside, and the metal box groaned softly as it carried me up to the thirteenth floor.

I peeled off my wet clothes the moment I stepped into my apartment, I didn’t even bother to hang them to dry.

I just let them fall where they landed and wandered straight into the shower.

The water hit me in a steaming rush, burning away the chill that had settled in my bones.

My limbs ached from cold and exhaustion, but as the heat soaked into my skin, I finally exhaled—deeply—for what felt like the first time that day.

For two weeks straight, I hadn’t slept properly.

The upstairs neighbors threw parties like it was their eternal afterlife, as if vampires had moved in above me and decided human rest was beneath them.

Their bass pounded through my ceiling every night, shaking the walls, even through earplugs.

I hated them with every cell of my being.

The police didn’t care, they just laughed when I called to complain that it was impossible to sleep at four in the morning!

Maybe they didn’t have to wake up at six a.m. every day for work.

Still, it didn’t change a thing. They were assholes.

Loud, inconsiderate, nocturnal assholes.

I didn’t know how long I stood under the water, but I didn’t care. Tonight, I didn’t need to look at the clock or worry about alarms. Tomorrow was the weekend, that small mercy was enough to keep me sane.

After finally stepping out, I dried off with my favorite black terry towel, the one with little pumpkins printed on it.

It was soft and warm, and for a moment, life didn’t seem entirely awful.

I threw on my makeshift pajamas: an old, stretched-out T-shirt, it was thin enough that my breasts showed faintly through the fabric, a detail I shamelessly enjoyed and my favorite comfy shorts.

Pulling on a pair of fuzzy white socks, I padded into the kitchen.

The apartment was cold, the heating still off for the season, and the air conditioner hummed like a ghost at twenty-four-seven.

I didn’t bother turning on the light; I was too tired.

I grabbed a spoonful of cough syrup, chased it with vitamin C that was the freshly squeezed orange juice, and swallowed a handful of cold pills for good measure.

The warmth spread through me like a lazy potion.

I moved quietly toward the bedroom, though the muffled thump-thump-thump of the neighbors’ Halloween party still bled through the ceiling. The music had changed, it was more themed now, eerie laughter and haunting melodies mixing with the bass.

I sighed, long and heavy, a low growl rumbling in my throat. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I set a glass and thermos of hot water on the nightstand in case I woke up parched later. Then I shoved in my earplugs already sore from constant use and lay back beneath the weight of my thick blanket.

The low vibrations of the music still reached me, pulsing faintly through the mattress like a heartbeat. I closed my eyes and muttered something between a curse and a prayer. And then, finally, I slipped into sleep earlier than planned on this cursed godforsaken Friday night.