Sue's Dreams

Sue Storm woke up the next morning with a vague unease that settled over her like a fine mist. The light streaming through the curtains seemed too bright, the apartment too quiet despite the distant hum of the city. She couldn’t pinpoint why she felt off, but it clung to her like an unwanted guest.

The novel she had been reading the night before sat innocently on her nightstand, its cover gleaming faintly in the morning sun. Sue’s fingers brushed against it as she picked it up, flipping through the pages to the spot she had marked. The story’s heroine had seemed so self-assured, so effortlessly captivating, and yet Sue couldn’t help but feel a pang of inadequacy as she thought about her own reflection in the mirror.

It had been years since she’d felt truly beautiful, and the thought unsettled her. She glanced down at her hands, noting the faint signs of age creeping in. Her mind wandered to the women in the novel—vivid descriptions of their flawless skin, their perfect hair, and their magnetic presence. It was a stark contrast to how Sue saw herself.

Why do I even care? she thought, setting the book down with a sigh. But the answer was already there, lurking in the back of her mind. It wasn’t just the book—it was everything. The mundane routine of her days, the distant looks from Reed when he emerged from his lab, the feeling that she had become invisible in more ways than one.

After getting Franklin settled with breakfast, Sue locked herself in the bathroom. The mirror reflected a woman who looked tired, not from lack of sleep but from the weight of everything she carried. Her hair, once a bright golden crown, seemed duller than she remembered, and her figure, though still slim, felt… unremarkable. She turned sideways, scrutinizing her reflection.

When did this happen? she wondered. She wasn’t sure if the dissatisfaction was entirely her own or if it had been seeded by something else, something darker that had begun to take root inside her. The thought made her shiver.

By mid-morning, Sue decided to push the feeling aside and keep busy. She threw herself into errands, cleaning, and anything else that might distract her from the gnawing sense of inadequacy. But the feeling persisted, even as she went through the motions of her day.

That night, as she lay in bed, Sue couldn’t sleep. She stared at the ceiling, the quiet hum of Reed’s machines in the background. The night outside was still, the moonlight filtering in through the curtains. Her mind wandered back to the novel and the knight who had fought for the heroine, who had seen her as someone worth protecting, worth cherishing.

When was the last time anyone looked at me like that? she thought. Reed loved her, she knew that. But his love often felt distant, like an afterthought. She had grown used to being second to his work, but the thought of it now made her chest ache.

As she drifted into an uneasy sleep, her dreams began to take shape. At first, they were a haze of half-formed images—glimpses of faces, flashes of light. Then the scene coalesced into something more vivid. She was standing in a grand ballroom, dressed in a flowing gown of midnight blue that shimmered under the chandeliers. Her long hair was swept up elegantly, and she felt radiant in a way she hadn’t in years.

The room was filled with people, but her eyes were drawn to a man standing at the edge of the crowd. His features were shadowed, but his presence was magnetic. He moved toward her with purpose, cutting through the sea of faceless dancers as though they didn’t exist. When he reached her, he took her hand, and a thrill ran through her at the touch.

“You are exquisite,” he said, his voice low and rich with a clear accent. The words sent a shiver down her spine. She wanted to respond, but her voice caught in her throat. Instead, she let him lead her to the center of the room. The music swelled, and they began to dance. His movements were fluid, effortless, and she found herself moving with a grace she didn’t know she possessed.

As they danced, she felt the eyes of the room on her, but instead of discomfort, she felt exhilaration. She was the center of attention, the object of admiration. The man’s hand tightened on her waist, pulling her closer, and she felt her breath hitch. There was something both thrilling and terrifying about his intensity.

“Do you know how beautiful you are?” he asked, his voice a seductive murmur. She opened her mouth to reply, but before she could, the dream began to shift. The ballroom faded, replaced by a swirling darkness. The man’s eyes burned red as he leaned closer, his lips brushing her ear.

“You will be mine,” he whispered, the words echoing in her mind as she jolted awake.

Sue sat up in bed, her heart pounding. The room was dark, the faint glow of the city lights filtering through the curtains. She glanced at Reed, who was still asleep beside her, oblivious. Her hand went to her throat, as though expecting to feel something there, but it was bare.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed, pressing her palms to her face. The dream had felt so real, so vivid. She could still feel the man’s touch, hear his voice. It left her both shaken and strangely exhilarated.

What is happening to me? she wondered, her mind racing. She glanced toward the open window, half-expecting to see something there, but the night was still. She shook her head, trying to dismiss the lingering sensations. It was just a dream, she told herself. Nothing more.

But deep down, she knew it wasn’t that simple. Something had shifted within her, something she couldn’t quite name. And as she lay back down, staring at the ceiling, she couldn’t shake the feeling that the dream was only the beginning.