The Kingpin's Possession

84: A Terror in the Night

Kit:Kit was screaming before he even woke up, and by the time his consciousness took hold, his voice was hoarse, but he could not stop. He rose quickly from the bed, heart pounding frantically as though he had been running a marathon.

He frantically looked around, searching for any signs of life. The room was dark, but the sound of shuffling footsteps outside and the low hum of murmurs was unmistakable.

Relief and desperation washed over him in waves, and it was all that had been holding him back from crumbling right then and there. Curling in on himself, Kit let the tears fall, unable to stop the cries that left his lips, as if it would ease the pain in his chest.

Even P’Kim’s immediate presence next to him couldn’t calm him down. He put a comforting hand on Kit’s back, pulling him into his embrace. “Hey, it’s alright. I’m right here. It was just a bad dream…”

When Kit still wouldn’t look up from hiding his face in his hands, Kim went to give him a tight hug, having read somewhere that having physically pressure around a person having a panic attack would somehow help them calm down, but Kit seemed inconsolable.

Kit could only remember the crazed look on his father’s face as he held P’Kim hostage. And the way he plunged his bare hand into P’Kim’s chest, ripping his heart out like the monster that he was… all that blood splattering everywhere…

Kit wanted to get the hell away from here. He wanted to go somewhere no one would ever find him, perhaps that way no one would have to get hurt because of him. As he wildly struggled against P’Kim’s hold, all he could think of was the blood and death that plagued his sleeping mind.

And it was all his fault. He let out another muffled wail, unable to hold back the emotions plaguing his mind.

“It was just a nightmare, teerakKit only shook his head vehemently, muttering, “Maishia“Listen to me, Kit,” P’Kim said, his voice turning firm as he forced Kit to look at him. “It was just a dream. All in your head. You’re fine now; no one’s going to hurt you, not with me around.”

But my father will hurt you! And I will be the one to cause it.“I understand that whatever you had seen in your nightmare had been scary enough that you were affected by it severely,” P’Kim continued, “but it’s over now. I got you.”

Kit went silent in P’Kim’s hold, his frantic movements stopping as he tried to regain his composure. P’Kim was about to say something more, when he realized that Kit probably needed this silence.

Kit knew he was being irrational, perhaps even borderline silly. He wasn’t one to actually believe in such superstitions, but that awful, awful nightmare seemed to have scarred him down to the marrow of his bones, so much that he couldn’t help but think that it was a glimpse to the future.

But did he even know what his father was truly capable of? Who knew what lengths he would go to, just to get what he wanted. He certainly had no issue with morals for that matter, given how willing he was to threaten the life of his own son just to have the upper hand.

Kit had never felt so… helpless. With P’Kim by his side, he usually felt like he was on top of the world—untouchable, unbreakable. They were supposed to be a pair that could not be defeated, and Kit always felt P’Kim was a force to be reckoned with.

But with this… with this problem that he could not even tell P’Kim for fear of putting everyone he loved in danger… he felt so alone. So helpless. Useless. He hated bearing this burden on his own, and even after confiding in P’Kla, who did not give him any sort of assurance, he felt like he held all of their lives in his hand.

And that it would be his fault if Ayan managed to seize them.

He was only brought back to the present when he felt P’Kim’s firm touch. He tried to focus on the sensation, thinking of the way his warmth felt against his skin, and how it seemed to anchor him to reality.

Right, I have to calm down. I wouldn’t be helping anyone if I kept breaking down. Get a grip, Kit!And then, finally, Kit looked up, hands peeled away from his face with shaking palms, as he faced P’Kim. “W-where…?” he began weakly. “Where am I…? What happened..?”

“You are still in your room,” P’Kim answered him gently. “And everything is fine; nothing in your nightmare was true.”

“How about P’Aawut? Is he alright?” Kit continued to ask. He had a wild, desperate look in his eyes, like any moment now he was going to crumble once again. “P’David? N’Som? My sister, P’Kanya, is she okay? How is she?”

“Yes to all of them,” P’Kim reassured him with a firm squeeze on his arm. “Everyone is safe in their rooms, probably fast asleep since it is only five in the morning.”

“Oh, no,” Kit stammered. “It’s only five? Then who’s to say my dream wasn’t a premonition of any sort? I heard that early morning dreams often come true, somewhat like a psychic vision. I could never live with myself if… if…”

But P’Kim was quick to respond. “That belief is about dreams, not nightmares, Kit. There is a clear difference, which means that you are safe, and so is everyone else. Whatever you saw in your sleep, none of it was real, and never will be. Okay?”

Kim could see the dilemma in Kit’s eyes, the way his lips trembled. Clearly whatever he had witnessed in his sleep has scarred him enough that he was on the verge of another breakdown.

It took a while for Kit to respond, processing Kim’s words, and when he was finally able to fully calm down, he nodded and squeezed P’Kim hand, telling him that he got himself under control.

“Are you good now?” P’Kim asked, brushing a stray strand of Kit’s hair behind his ear.

Kit nodded wordlessly. His heart had slowed to a steady beat by now, but he was still too tired to speak much.

Kim nodded, glad that Kit was no longer convinced his nightmare had been some kind of premonition. “Then… if you’ll let me, I want to ask… What was your nightmare about?” he asked, hoping Kit wouldn’t turn away from him at the mention of recounting that traumatic ordeal.

“What was it you saw that made you panic so much? You were screaming in your sleep. I was worried something had happened to you.”

Kit swallowed the lump in his throat before answering, “I… I saw that everyone in the mansion was dead. P’Aawut… he… I heard a loud thud on my bedroom door, and when I opened it, P’Aawut’s dead body almost fell on me.”

Kit shuddered at the memory still vivid in his mind. “All the guards, the maids… they were all dead. I found my sister’s corpse at the bottom of the staircase, like she was trying to run upstairs. Even you… your heart was ripped out of your chest before my very eyes, and I could not do anything. I was frozen, helpless. I…”

Kit shook his head, tears brimming his eyes once again as he was forced to relive that nightmare. He didn’t want to say any more, in fear that he would give away too much and the nightmare would become reality.

“It’s all my fault,” he cried. “All my fault that this happened…”

P’Kim frowned. “Why is it your fault?” he asked. “Who was it that killed everyone? You seem to be traumatized by that person. Tell me, who is it?”

Kit opened his mouth to speak, but when a miniscule sound left his throat, he quickly stopped himself, his eyes widening in horror at his own slip-up.