Incubus Awakening: The More I Lust, The Stronger I Become

Logan was shaking profusely, diving his eyes into his shirt as if he could prevent the pouring tears.

Each time he breathed, the world would thrum—rippling like an open pond reacting to thrown pebbles.

Pixel hovered past the living room, over to Logan's shoulder. Restrainedly, she traced her hand close to him, then stopped. "I understand completely how you're feeling in this moment, but you need to fight it. Not just for yourself, but for those that care about you.

Throw away all inhibition and face your fears, and you'll live the life you want."

Logan's chin brushed against his shirt, nuzzled tightly into his chest. Turning just a tinge, he accepted her gaze. "That's easy for you to say. This isn't your mind you have to venture, nor is it your trauma."

Taking his words as an opportunity to console, Pixel rested upon his skin—her cheek digging into his neck. "You shouldn't say such things. I've struggled for all my life, and fought just to be respected. If there's anyone who understands the tragedies of life, it would be me."

"You... you do?"

Pixel bobbed her head affirmatively. "Yes. A fair chunk of my life has been spent alone, so take it as fact when I say this: you're not alone, and what happened to Selene isn't your fault. So get up, and conquer this thing!"

With one breath, Logan strengthened his posture, then brushed his hand across Pixel's. "Th-thank you..." he said, eyes quivering.

Pixel smiled. "Come on, what has you being all mushy? We're not friends, right?"

Logan accepted the warmth in his core, then challenged the memory playing out in front of him by turning back.

At just the corner of his eye, he witnessed frozen bodies take in the jolt of life—animation bursting from them once more.

'Like someone clicked 'resume' on a television remote...' he remarked to himself, taking the silent pause as a chance to recollect his thoughts.

His younger self was next to his mother, hand-in-hand. Still trapped in his ruined clothes, he'd been eyeing the girl in front of him curiously.

Selene was also accompanied by someone—her father, her eyes unfocused and her face, still. In her case, however, she wasn't latched onto her father like Logan was for his mother.

"What is this?" Pixel asked.

"The first time I entered my step-father's house. At first, I didn't know what to expect, accepting that this was just one of my mother's many planned renegades. But there was something different this time around."

"How do you mean?"

"Just watch."

At first, the air lingered like dust floating about—unresponsive to the moving mouths of the adults in the room.

The words didn't cross Logan's mind, a result of his inability to speak. But meanings weren't lost to him.

He understood deeply that the two—based on the powerful glimmer in their faces—were speaking about the future. Most powerfully, his mother actually looked excited.

The younger Logan loosened his grip at her curved lips, gasping heavily to himself.

Then, he stared into Selene. This time, he wrenched himself free from his mother, then coiled the same fist furiously.

"Gnnnyahhh!" The kid marched forward, fist behind him. He was headed in Selene's direction.

Like a beast arose from within her, Selene moved faster than Logan could see, smashing his head into the ground from the front.

The wooden floor creaked from the force—fracturing to splinters. His mother covered her hands over her mouth, likely gasping, while his step-father stood emotionless.

There young Logan sat, unmoving and wet with his own blood. Selene, on the other hand, looked down at her hand that firmed Logan's bloodied scalp, then smacked it away.

By the time she'd done so, the world begun to dim.

"Why'd you do that?" Pixel asked, tapping his shoulder lightly. "Attacking a girl like that when you were meeting her for the first time.

"That's a good question. I don't think I can recall just what I'd been feeling in that moment, but if I had to guess, it would've been her hair."

"Her hair?"

"Yeah, it reminded me of the night sky with how dark it is. Of everything bad in the world, and my life before. It reminds me even now, although I've learned to use it as motivation."

Even though Pixel rose like she were going to speak, she was quickly intercepted by the swirling pool of colors cutting through the air.

They thrashed, swerved, and eventually settled, revealing a single bedroom.

Logan's current one. However, with two children-sized beds instead of one. Himself in one, and, of course, his step-sister in the other.

"Damn, this memory's moving quick," Logan commented, setting his back against the only door in the room.

"What's this now?" Pixel inquired, still shifting her head left and right.

"My first night with Selene," he said, pointing to one set of covers. There Selene laid, book in hand.

Her brows were furrowed, curved away from the sight of Logan across the room.

"Ngh, nyah," kid Logan stammered, like he were gnashing his gums together. He was shaking wildly, staring at the ceiling fan.

It was moving fast, gusting cold air all throughout. Young Logan wrapped himself completely in his blankets, and yet, his skin only settled into a deeper blue.

It stayed like that for minutes—each tremble causing his nose to rise an inch. Eventually, he collapsed into a fury of sneezes.

Selene, in all her indignant flare, looked upon his ceaseless sneezing. At first, her tongue clicked with frustration, but as the night went on, her brows would slowly fall, and so too did her sheets.

Hesitantly, she got out of bed to reach the door, pulling down the switch forcing the fan's spin.

Only once it stopped did she make her way back to her bed. One more look at Logan, and she realized.

His sneezing wasn't stopping.

Her eyes switched from wall to wall, gazing at the door, then the phone, then Logan himself. She decided upon reaching for the door's knob, perhaps getting somebody to help him with his sickness.

But then, her face dropped. She looked back at him just one last time, then her own hand—the same one that slammed his head into the ground.

Loosely, she settled into his sheets. At first, the younger Logan kicked his feet against her, but once her hand brushed against his forehead hidden inside an inch-thick layer of bandages, he rested his limbs.

Then, wrapping her arms around him, they fell into a deep sleep. Safe, and warm.