Green Man

She was sixteen years old. Her teachers said that she was amazingly mature for the girl of her age. She was the calm, serene girl, the smart one who rather studied home and arranged her bright future than went out to the streets to drink her head off and ruin her life. She was perfect. She was afraid of the dark.

Because every night, every time the sun went down and the moon claimed the skies, the green man came to her.

She didn't know if he was real, or just a nightmare, but he was always there, assaulting her from the shadows, grabbing her when she tried to escape, chasing her in the corner. His smile was like a blade, sharp and cruel. And when he smiled at her, it was like being stabbed straight in the heart. Just as painful and terrifying.

His kisses were painful too. The touch of his lips were like wine, so good and evil at the same time, and tasted just as bitter and sweet too. She both dreaded and desired his kisses, his tight embraces, the weight of his body on top of her. She hated it too. The way he arised conflicts within her own body and mind.

And she was always helpless in his arms. Helpless against his smirk, his laughter. He knew her being, her heart, while she didn't even know his name. He had her right there under his control, would always have. She would never know why. And she would never do anything but give into him, trying not to struggle because it pleased him and always failing since the fear she had for him was too powerful. It would never end. He would keep coming to her for eternity.

Only at nights, of course. Because everybody had enemies. And his was daylight.