The Box

When Lyra came home from her morning jog through the forest, she got herself a glass of water and some ice from the freezer as she always did and came to the lounge. She was surprised to see a tattered, old box on her expensive, antique wooden coffee table with glass paneling.

Not only was she annoyed that such a disgusting and old thing had been haphazadly left on her table, there was no explanation to how it got there.

After all, Lyra lived alone.

Before she panicked, she suddenly remembered that Lena still had a key from when she stayed at the weekend for "ice cream and reliving past regrets."

Perhaps Lena left it there. But why would she do that when she Lena knew Lyra was more than a little precious about her table. Proven by the fact that when Lena had accidentally spilled a little blood on it from their "ritual", Lyra nearly launched at her and killed her.

Maybe it was some kind of joke. Lena probably wanted Lyra to get wound up and go round there or call her up spouting a tirades of four-letter words.

Lyra thought for a moment. She wasn't going to give her the benefit.

Instead, she would counter her "trick" with some gameplay of her own.

She took the box, which was surprisingly heavy and warm for something that looked so cold and lifeless, and placed it on the chest of drawers in her bedroom, before grabbing a towel and heading to shower off the sweat and dew from her morning jog.

As she washed off the morning workout and shampooed her long reddish-brown hair, she was horrified to feel some hair coming away from her scalp as she worked her fingers in. While it wasn't large clumps, it was more than the normal amount. She stepped out of the shower, grabbed the towel and walked over to the full-size mirror in her bedroom. She was about to start drying off when she noticed a scar that ran from her navel down to just below her stomach. As she draped the towel over her shoulders, she traced the scar with her thumb murmuring "What the hell?"

To be fair, she had such a high threshold for pain that she often had bumps, bruises and even cuts she could not remember getting. Hoever, it was the size and the placement of this scar that baffled her and the fact that as part of her daily routine, she always looked in the mirror after showering. Like clockwork, without fail and didn't notice it yesterday.

She caught sight of the time and would have to deal with it later. "Alexa set a reminder for scar and hair at 3 pm" she called out as she gently dried her newly-thinned out hair. Although most would comment on her silky smooth and slender nose, deep blue eyes and perfectly pert and full lips being that of a Goddess, it was her hair she loved most. Okay, just one or two lovesick guys and that secretary for the company she worked with a couple of years ago, has said that. Despite those features, she loved her hair. The thought of it just falling out like that worried her.

Maybe it was just a stress thing.

She had a lot on her plate right now, what with a new online store she was working on, with Lena, as well as her recent split from Adam. She had still not deleted Adam's contact details from her phone and still had a photograph on her bedside cabinet from when they visited Paris to celebrate their one-year anniversary. He too had the deepest blue eyes, kind eyes and shoulder length dark brown hair. His broad shoulders, 6'5" tall and slender frame, along with the most comforting grip she had ever experienced, also had her blushing internally a lot.

Lena never really got on with Adam, though. But, then Lena had her reasons. She had a distinct distrust for most men, particularly, it had been well documented over the years, any that Lyra had ever dated or being involved with in some way.

Many had suggested that there was more to Lena's protective streak than meets the eye. Lyra dismissed these suggestions because she felt sure she would know if Lena had deeper feelings for her or not.

As she started getting the pair of black leggings and white tee she had set aside last night, she caught sight of the dirty old box again. She felt unsettled gazing at it but couldn't help but stare. Determined to not let Lena's trick get to her, as she was still convinced it was something to do with Lena, she walked over to it and stroked the top, looking for a way to get into it without damaging it. Not that it would really have made much of a difference, as the box was shabby and not in a chic way. As she ran her fingers gently along what she thought was a seam, she felt a breath on the back of her neck and her finger got jammed inside the box.

"Crap!" she shouted, trying to shake her hand and work her finger out. The more she did that, though, the more the box clung to her. It felt as if there were tiny little needle-like teeth gripping her finger.

"Dammit, Lena" she shouted and managed to pull her finger out. As she collected her thoughts and got her breath back, trying to relax her heart in the process, she was shocked to see that her finger did not have even the slightest mark on it.

She almost jumped out of her skin when her watch started beeping. Looking at it, she sighed with relief "Oh yeah...lunch date" she muttered as she grabbed her keys and purse, giving the box once last quick glance over her shoulder before heading out the door.

***

Lyra got home after a very promising meeting with a local seller of knitted and crocheted products witha a view to stocking some of her items in the new online store. That would have to wait, though, as she had more pressing matters at hand. Lena would be here soon for dinner and Lyra wanted to surprise her.

She got the old box, which felt, strangely lighter than it did before and placed it on her prized antique table. All those arm curls at the gym must be working in your favour girl, she mused with a grin.

Lyra had not mentioned the box to Lena. She had hoped she would have mentioned it, in a sneaky way, by now. Lena had a habit when playing pranks of being far too obvious and giving the game away. This time, though, Lyra was impressed. She had barely even messaged or phoned Lyra since she saw her at the weekend. In fact, that might have been the last time she saw her.

This wasn't unusual, because although they were close and deeply care for one another, Lyra always assumed that Lena was fine unless she said otherwise.

She placed a pretty piece of purple velvet over the box and sat with a glass of red, waiting for Lena.

It had been a long day and the glass of red, without food, was going straight to her head. She was staring again at the box, it seemed to have a presence of its own, as her eyes closed.

As she murmured in her sleep, not quite in a deep slumber yet, she heard a whisper and felt a breath on the back of her neck when she woke it was all black and she couldn't move.

She tried to scream out, but no sound left her mouth...

*

Thanks for reading!

Author's Notes: So, this was a story that just came to me, almost freeform style. I didn't give myself too much to think ahead with it, as I wanted to feel out the plot. I may continue it or just leave all those damn questions unanswered.

Let me know what you think, as I love feedback and engagement with you guys!

If you have time or inclination, here are a few others:

You can also take a look at the rest of my work here.