Title: Sell Your Soul
Character: Akako
Summary: They said not to approach that girl. That she would take something precious to you. That she would take your soul if you would sell it to her.
A/N: I'm an Akako fan, and so on the bus I was thinking about Faustian contracts, and somehow thought of Akako? I don't exactly know. This is written in a weird format. A REALLY weird format. Sorry, I just wanted to try this style once.
…..
The whispers crowded the dark hallway, the air thick with lies. A flash of red caught the corner of your eye and you turned to face her. Her hair was glossy {full of blood clotted and the screams of anguish}, her face was mysterious {shadowed and bruised, darkened by her victims}, and her eyes bright {taunting, broken, pleading}. That was your first encounter with the face of death.
The next time you saw her, she was encased in those lies. She had built herself up a fortress, and used the bodies of her adversaries as stairs to stand triumphant at the top. She noticed you, and smiled.
You asked about her. The only answers you got were hushed mutterings and promises made and broken to forget about her. The foolish soul you were then, you didn't listen. It occurred to you that it was sad. They pretended to love her every move, not out of admiration of attraction, but because of an instinctual fear, deep and old as the creature itself they worshipped.
They had told you not to go near her, but she presented such an enticing puzzle that you couldn't help but be drawn in by her enigma. She turned and spoke to you, her eyes calculating and cold, showing you the true definition of fear. You could do nothing but nod numbly, traumatized and struck to the core. And when you realized what you had done wrong, it was too late.
It had been two days. Two days since you had sold your soul to the devil. You had always known. Always known there was a reason that they had warned you against her. But, like all curious little souls out there, you had fallen into her trap, her web of lies, of batted eyelashes and false innocence. And if you were to ask her, the devil herself would just smile, and raise a red-dyed fingertip to her lips. Ssh…
….