Claimed by My Bully Alpha Chapter 184

Aurora’s P.O.V

I wake up with a gasp, my chest rising and falling rapidly as I try to gather my bearings. My hands clutch at the sheets beneath me, fingers curling into the fabric as my eyes dart around the room. No. Not again. Not this place.

My mother’s room—the room from my nightmares. The air is thick with the scent of lavender, just like it always is, and the dim glow of the night lamp illuminates the room, casting eerie shadows across the walls. I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to do this again. 

I sit up, rubbing at my eyes, trying to will the dream away. That’s all it is—a dream. A cruel, recurring dream that refuses to let me go. But something is different this time. My body aches, a dull throbbing pain spreading through my limbs as if I’ve been through something brutal.

My head pounds the moment I try to think, like someone is hammering against my skull, forcing me to stay disoriented. What happened? Why do I feel like this? I press my fingers against my temples, squeezing my eyes shut as I try to remember, but nothing comes. Just emptiness. 

Swallowing hard, I force myself to look around the room again, searching for any sign of what’s about to happen. This room—it’s always the same. The antique dresser against the far wall, the photos of my mother from a lifetime ago, the ornate mirror that reflects more than just a person’s face. Everything is exactly how I remember it, down to the slightly creased pillows and the way the flowers always seem to be in full bloom. My stomach churns, dread settling into my bones. 

“Mom?” My voice cracks as I whisper into the silence. There’s no answer. Sometimes, I see her. Sometimes, she’s a silhouette against the dark warning me to run. Other times, I just hear her voice, whispering things I don’t understand. But right now—nothing. Just the suffocating weight of this place pressing down on me. 

I clutch my arms, rubbing at the soreness in my muscles as I try to steady my breathing. Something about this feels real. Too real. The pain, the way my skin tingles with an unfamiliar sensation, the way my heart is racing like it knows something I don’t. If this is just a dream, then why does it feel like I’m actually here? Why does it feel like I won’t wake up this time? 

I swing my legs over the side of the bed, my feet meeting the cold wooden floor. A shiver runs up my spine. My body is screaming at me to be careful, to stay put, to not make a single move. But I can’t just sit here. Not when everything inside me is telling me that something is very, very wrong. 

“Please,” I whisper, though I don’t know who I’m pleading with. My mother? The nightmare itself? Whoever keeps bringing me back to this place? “Just let me wake up.” 

Silence. 

And then— 

A creak. 

My breath catches in my throat. My head snaps toward the mirror, my pulse hammering against my ribs. The reflection is dark, shadowed, almost as if something is moving just beyond the glass. My chest tightens.

But then…silence once again, and the image seemed to be nothing but my reflection,

The silence in the room is deafening. I push myself off from the bed, wincing as my muscles protest. The room feels more real than before. It isn’t the shadowy, shifting place I had wandered through in countless dreams. The walls, once a shifting, formless void, are now a solid dark blue. It’s unsettling in a way I can’t quite explain, as if reality itself has decided to anchor me here against my will.

I hesitate before moving, half-expecting the illusion to shatter the moment I acknowledge it. But it doesn’t. Instead, the details become sharper—the coolness of the wooden floor against my bare feet, the faint scent of something unfamiliar in the air. My gaze drifts to the far side of the room, where two doors stand side by side. That’s new. I don’t remember them ever being there before. My heartbeat quickens as I take slow, cautious steps forward, drawn by an overwhelming need to know what’s behind them.

I reach for the first door and pull it open. A bathroom. I blink in surprise. A bathroom? My fingers tighten on the doorknob as I scan the space, noting the pristine sink, the mirror reflecting my wary expression, the bathtub tucked neatly against the wall. Everything looks perfectly ordinary, and that’s what unsettles me the most. Why would there be a bathroom in a place that has never felt real before?

I shake off the unease creeping up my spine and turn my attention to the second door. My hand trembles slightly as I grip the handle and tug. It doesn’t budge. I try again, harder this time, but it remains locked. My stomach twists uncomfortably. Locked doors never mean anything good.

I press my forehead against the cool wood, my breath coming faster. “Why are you locked?” I whisper, half to myself, half to whatever force has trapped me in this strange, half-real existence. I knock once, then twice, the sound echoing through the silence. No answer. My fingers curl into a fist, and I knock again, harder this time. “Is someone there?” My voice is more desperate than I want it to be. More vulnerable.

Nothing.

Frustration bubbles up inside me. My head pounds with questions I don’t have answers to, and the weight of uncertainty is suffocating. I don’t understand any of this—why I’m here, why the room feels more solid, why there’s a locked door standing between me and whatever truth I’m meant to find. I press my back against the wall, sliding down until I’m sitting on the floor, my arms wrapped around my knees.

I take a shaky breath. “What am I supposed to do now?”

I don’t understand what’s happening anymore. At first, I thought this was just a dream—a bizarre, eerie nightmare that I would wake up from any second now. But as more time passes, I feel like I’m trapped inside it, like the edges of reality have blurred into something I can’t escape from. There’s no waking up. No sudden jolt that yanks me back to my bed. Just this—this suffocating, endless loop of confusion. 

I take slow, shaky steps around the dimly lit room, my breathing ragged as my fingers graze the cold walls. My heart hammers inside my chest, and I don’t even know why. There's nothing inherently terrifying about the room itself. It’s just... empty. Devoid of warmth, of familiarity, of anything that should make sense. I swallow down the panic clawing at my throat and force myself to focus. There has to be a way out of this, right? A way to wake up. 

Then, my eyes land on something—a light switch next to the bathroom door. My pulse quickens, a strange sense of hope flickering inside me. Light. Maybe if I turn it on, something will change. Maybe I’ll snap out of this. Without wasting another second, I reach out and flip the switch. 

Bright, artificial light floods the room, banishing the shadows in an instant. I let out a breath I didn’t even realize I was holding, relief washing over me for the briefest second—until my gaze drifts to the far corner of the room. 

And that’s when I see it. 

A sound rips through my throat before I even realize I’m screaming. A blood-curdling, soul-shaking scream as I stumble back, my legs giving out beneath me. I hit the floor with a painful thud, but I barely register it because my entire body is consumed by sheer, paralyzing horror. 

No. No, no, no. This isn’t real. It can’t be real. 

I don’t even know what I’m looking at. My vision swims, my mind refusing to comprehend the twisted, grotesque thing lurking in the corner. My breath stutters, my chest heaving as the walls seem to close in on me. I can’t move. I can’t think. All I can do is stare, my entire being frozen in terror. 

This isn't a dream anymore. 

It’s something far, far worse.