MY SAVING DOOM

The morning sunlight attacked me like it had been waiting all night for this exact moment. Right through my thin curtains, stabbing me in the face like I’d personally offended the sun.I groaned and rolled over, pulling the blanket over my head. Not today. Please not today. But the second I shut my eyes, last night came rushing back.The alley.The men.Him.And that voice, low and final: “Doom has begun.”I sat up so fast my pillow hit the floor. My heart thudded against my ribs, too loud for morning.No. Absolutely not. That wasn’t real. Couldn’t be. Men don’t glow. They don’t fling people across alleys like paper. And glowing tattoos? Yeah, okay, sure.Except—My wrist throbbed.I yanked up my sleeve like I’d catch it in the act.The mark stared back at me. Glowing faintly in the daylight, warm under my skin, alive.I laughed. I cried. Then I laughed again, because apparently I was losing my mind. “Of course,” I muttered. “Glowing wrist. Why not? Add that to my resume.”My phone bu

I woke up drenched in sweat.Not the kind from a warm blanket or a bad nightmare that fades the moment you sit up. No, this was the clingy kind that glued my shirt to my skin and made me feel like my own bed was trying to suffocate me. My sheets were twisted around my legs like I had been wrestling with an invisible enemy all night. My chest rose and fell too fast, and the pounding in my head matched the racing beat of my heart.I didn’t need to ask why. I already knew.The dream.It was fuzzy around the edges, but certain fragments stayed behind, sharp as broken glass: the glow of my wrist, a dark alley, a man with eyes like carved crystal, lips too close to mine. The kind of dream that didn’t feel like a dream at all, more like a memory replaying itself in cruel high definition.And the humiliating part? My body had liked it. My pulse still hadn’t calmed down. My lips tingled like they’d been almost touched. My thighs pressed together on instinct, and I hated myself for it.I groane

Woke up feeling like I’d been dragged through fire. My entire body ached in places I didn’t want to name, my lips were sore, and my wrist—God—my wrist was still glowing faintly in the morning light.For a long moment, I lay there, staring at it, daring the silver shimmer to fade. But it didn’t. It pulsed in rhythm with my heartbeat, alive, taunting me with the memory of last night.For a second, I tried to tell myself it wasn’t real. That I had dreamt it up, maybe from exhaustion, maybe from the stress of juggling too many responsibilities. People didn’t just wake up with glowing tattoos from mysterious, rude gods who kissed like sin. Right?Except my body betrayed me.The soreness, the heat lingering under my skin, the ghost of his touch — all of it screamed reality. Every shift of my legs reminded me I hadn’t imagined Damian, or the way he had pinned me like he owned me. The way he whispered the thoughts I was too afraid to say out loud.Damian.Even thinking his name made my chest

The grocery bags were heavier than they should’ve been. By the time I reached Mom’s apartment, my arms ached, my shoulders screamed, and the plastic handles had carved red grooves into my fingers.I shoved the door open with my hip, and the familiar chaos smacked me in the face. The TV blared too loudly from the living room, kids were screaming over something stupid, and the sharp tang of bleach mixed with frying oil burned my nose.“About time,” Mom snapped before I could even set the bags down. She stood in the kitchen doorway, a dish towel slung over her shoulder, eyes narrowed like I’d just committed a crime. “Do you know how long I’ve been waiting? What if we’d starved, Nanya? Do you even think about anyone besides yourself?”The bags hit the counter with a heavy thud, the plastic crinkling as if mocking me. “It’s groceries, Mom. Not a kidney transplant.”Her glare cut sharper than any knife. “Don’t you get smart with me. I asked you two days ago. Two! But you’re always too busy,

The night air cooled my flushed cheeks, but the burn in my wrist never faded.“You’re trouble,” I laughed nervously, shoving Ethan’s chest when he leaned in too close.“The best kind of trouble,” he teased, eyes dancing.I rolled mine, backing away. “Goodnight, Ethan.”“That’s not a no to tomorrow,” he said, grinning like a wolf.I forced a smile. “We’ll see. Second date, maybe.”“Maybe?” He clutched his chest in mock agony. “You’ve already made my week.”I shook my head, laughing despite myself, before finally turning toward home. Every step away from him made the mark on my wrist throb harder, hotter — like punishment.By the time I slipped inside my apartment, my chest was tight with confusion. I pressed my back against the door and sighed. “What am I even doing?”“You’re making a mistake.”The voice froze me mid-breath.Low. Cold. Familiar.My head whipped toward my bedroom. My heart dropped.Damian was sitting on the edge of my bed, leaning back casually, one arm braced against h