Oh my goodness, this took me way too long to update for how pitifully short this chapter is (I'm so sorry!). I could not for the life of me get this chapter where I wanted it to go. I rewrote this so many times it was ridiculous. Usual WARNING of language and minor blood/violence. A favorite, follow, or review would be greatly appreciated! Please enjoy, and again so sorry!
In Restless Dreams I Walked Alone
My sleep is plagued with dreams of being hunted. Damien keeps calling for me and death screams pierce the air, but I don't stop running through the darkness. Damien appears in front of me and dives at me, snarling. I manage to pull myself back into full conciseness before he reaches me. I hiss in pain and grab my head. It feels like my head is going to split in half. I squeeze my eyes tight and try to will the pain away.
I curl up in a ball and shiver, not just from cold. I have a sinking feeling something shitty is going to happen today. Blankets fall over me. I pull the blankets off my head and peek out. Christophe is lounging against the headboard. His legs and waist are under the sheets, but I suspect he's still completely naked like I am.
"Thanks," I whisper. "Eet ees nozing," he mumbles, flicking a lighter on and off. I bury my head back into the blankets and rub my temples, trying to ease the pain away. The pain finally pulls back to a dull throb. "What time is it?" I wonder aloud. "Eet ees almost zree-zirty." I curse under my breath. I was kind of hoping to get a full night's rest. I emerge from my cocoon, "why are you awake so early?" Christophe shrugs, still messing with the lighter, "I normally do not sleep more zan a few 'ours every night." "That makes two of us."
We fall silent, Christophe flicking the lighter the only sound breaking the silence. I quietly slip out of bed and search for my clothes. He stops what he's doing and watches me gather my things. I put my shorts and shirt on the bed but I can't seem to find any of my undergarments. " 'Ear," he reaches down next to the bed and tosses something at me. I catch it and hold it up. It's my bra, but it's torn so it's no longer wearable. "Damn," I sigh "I really liked that set."
I pull my shirt on and search for my panties. I look everywhere, even under the bed and Christophe's clothes but they are nowhere to be seen. At some point, Christophe got up and started getting dressed. "You see my underwear anywhere?" I question, trying hard not to stare at his still naked torso. "Non", he says, unconcerned. He finishes buckling his belt and pulls his shirt on. "Guess I'm going home commando," I grumble, pulling my shorts on and shoving the ruined bra in my pocket.
" 'Ey." "What?" I mumble. "Zould I be concerned we did not use protection last night?" I stare at him, frozen. He asked the question so casually, like he was asking about the weather. From what I've heard most guys at this age are too uncomfortable to ask questions like this, not that I can really blame them.
"Uh," is all I manage to get out. He crosses his arms and looks a bit nervous. "Oh, ah, no," I try again. "There's nothing to worry about, I'm clean." "Zat ees not w'at I'm talking about," he looks almost scared now. "Oooh," I say realization dawning on me. I almost forgot pregnancy is something a normal person needs to worry about. I shake my head, "still no need to worry, I get a shot for that." A small lie but it's not like I can tell him I'm not exactly human.
The look of relief on his face makes me chuckle. I try to cover it with a cough but he knows. "Eet ees not funny," he glowers at me, "I 'ave no interest in being a fazzer." I snort, "as if I want to be a parent." He shrugs, "I do not know you eenough to 'ave guessed zat." "True," I whisper, cracking the door open and looking around. It looks like we are the only ones awake, not that I really expected to see anyone else up at this hour. We slip out of the room. I let him take the lead, simply because I was too distracted last night to know exactly where to go.
When we reach the living room, I can make out the vague outlines of several people lying on the couch. I move closer to get a better look at who they are. Unfortunately, none of the three people is Alfred. Maybe he left me a message…I feel my pockets and realize my phone is gone. "Shit," I whisper, looking around to see if I happened to drop it out here last night. Christophe appears next to me. "Ees zis yours?" he holds a phone out to me. "Yea.." I take it from him, "where'd you find this?" "Eet was on ze floor near ze coffee table." "Thank you," I enter my passcode and check my messages. I have one from Alfred. Apparently he left around an hour ago, and went back to Denver to get some work done. He's supposed to have weekends off so I would bet he is actually going out to try and feed while he doesn't' need to.
Pain shoots through my head. I suck air through my teeth and shove the heel of my palm into my eye. The pain subsides and I lower my hand. "You dropped zis," Christophe holds my phone up. "Thanks," I tell him for what feels like the hundredth time this morning. I put my phone in my pocket so I can't lose it anymore. My head starts to throb again. "I need to get home," I mumble, massaging my temples. I quickly walk to the door and exit the house.
I hug myself and start walking. I only make it halfway down the driveway before I stumble and fall. "Damn fucking shoes," I pull off my heels and stand back up, unsteady. I Keep moving, doing my best to ignore the pain radiating from my head with every step.
It feels like it takes me an eternity to reach the bottom of the driveway. I can barely pick my feet up as I move down the sidewalk. My toes drag on the concrete, still I continue. There's something horribly wrong and I just want to make it home before shit really hits the fan. I manage to make it a block before the edges of my vison begins to blur and blacken. I fall once more, unable to catch myself. The cool concrete soothes my feverish face.
I want to give up and just lie here, but I can't. If anyone finds me like this, they are going to want to take me to a hospital. I hear muffled yelling. Fuck. I force myself into a kneeling position. I vomit, bringing with it the taste of copper. Confused, I make my eyes focus on the puddle in front of me and realize it's blood. For the first time in a long time, I'm afraid I might die.
I hug myself tight. My insides feel like they're writhing. I vaguely hear a voice and feel hands on my shoulders. It feels like I'm underwater, all my senses dulled. They're speaking rapidly. "No hospital," I manage to groan out. "Please," I let myself fall against the person, tears running down my face, "please, just take me home." I can't keep my eyes open anymore and close them, letting the darkness embrace me.
…
I wake with a great shuddering breath. I sit up, coughing so hard I can barely breathe. My lungs burn and ache. The deep coughs finally subside and I'm able to catch my breath. I push my hair out of my face and look around. There's nothing but jagged reddish-gray stone. The smell of brimstone permeates the air.
"Shit," I scramble to my feet. This is hell. What am I doing here. How can I even be here? "Welcome home," his voice breathes in my ear. I gasp and spin around, coming face to face with Damien. His red eyes seem to pierce my soul. He smiles and caresses my cheek. I close my eyes. I didn't realize I missed this. "Little bird," his breath ghosts across my lips. The image of his smirking face as he plowed Seraphim bubbles into my mind.
I snap my eyes open and shove his face away, glaring. Surprise flashes across his eyes but disappears. He takes a step back and smiles. "It's true then," he runs his hand through his long locks, pushing them out of his eyes. "What?" I cross my arms and do my best to keep my face blank. "Don't bullshit me Adrian!" his handsome face contorts in rage as he yells. He growls and runs his hand through his onyx hair. He drops his hand, exhaling slowly. Damien grits his teeth, "did you honestly think I wouldn't know what you did to yourself?" I swallow hard and think carefully on what to say. I would rather not provoke him.
"I didn't think I would have to face you so soon," I manage to keep my voice even and cold. "Of course you didn't'," he grunts, "I suppose you didn't think I would know where you are either." My eyes widen in surprise and alarm. He laughs. "Oh Little Bird. I intimately know South Park. It's one of the few places Father and I can meddle with little to no consequence, which is a good thing for you." I furrow my brow, unsure of how this could be good for me in any way. "Are you saying you can come back for me here and drag me back to Hell?" He smiles and runs his hand through my hair, "of course, Little Bird," there's a touch of menace to his voice. "But I would rather not piss off his divine holiness and start another war between Heaven and Hell."
"How noble of you," I can't help but say. He cocks his head and hums. He pulls his hand from my hair and turns away from me. "You're much braver than you were before," he looks back at me, "we'll see if that's a good thing or not." "Not good for you I'm sure," I mumble under my breath. He gives out an exasperated sigh.
I cross my arms, "why are you even here?" "Hm?" he stares at me. "Can't I just want to see you?" I scoff, "please. Like you would go through all this trouble just to see me. We were separated for less than a week and you threw me away for a demon whore." Damien mumbles something inaudible. "What?" He turns back to me, "I said, I never actually said that I would only be with you." I grit my teeth, anger and, strangely, hurt bubbling up. "So, all those times you told me you loved me were to what? Appease me? Keep me coming back?" He smirks, "you're not totally blind then." "Fuck you," I growl. "At the time, I would have let myself be blind to anything as long as I thought someone loved me. All you did was take advantage of someone who was lonely and hurting. You only care about yourself."
He narrows his eyes at me. In the blink of an eye, he is grabbing my neck with one hand. I let my arms hang at my side, too angry and defiant to give him the satisfaction of fighting back. Damien lowers his face, breathing heavily, "don't presume to know me and how I feel, Adrian." For a fleeting moment, I can see pain in his eyes, but just as suddenly as it appeared, it's gone. Before I can stop myself, I open my mouth, "love is just an illusion. It doesn't exi-," he squeezes my throat, cutting off my sentence. No sound can escape my throat. I can feel his hot breath on my face as he brings his face closer to mine. "If love isn't real, then why did you try to kill yourself?"
I stare blankly at him, uncontrollable tears stream down my face. He releases my throat and I let out an unwanted sob. Damien puts his hand behind my head and pulls me to his chest. I let him hold me but don't return the embrace. I hate showing weakness in front of him, but I've tried so hard to bury the feelings of rejection and memories from when I left that now it's all flooding to the surface. He strokes my hair, just letting me get it out.
I don't know how long we stand this way, but I finally stop the tears. I push him away and wipe the tears from my eyes. "I'm sorry," he mutters. I laugh, "is that so?" I take a deep breath and hug myself, "maybe I do think love exists. But I don't think it does for me, I mean, look at my track record," I laugh coldly.
"Both of my parents seemed to love me at one point but both grew to hate me, even though I still loved them and pitifully did whatever I could to 'earn' their love back. Then there was you," I stare at him and he stares back, face blank. "I loved you and thought you had loved me back." Damien opens his mouth but I cut him off, "maybe you did love me for a while but you stopped loving me the moment you buried your cock in someone else." I glare at him, "so forgive me for breaking and giving up. Cut me some fucking slack." He flinches at my harsh tone. "Besides," I say, getting louder, "that was the me that wasn't as strong and had the fucking crazy side of me constantly talking in my ear."
Damien swallows hard. "Do you have a question you want me to answer before we part ways?" "Pray tell, why would you answer any questions I have?" I grumble. He smirks at me, "I said a question, meaning one. And I figure I owe you some answers." I furrow my brow at his own contradiction, but choose not to comment. "Fine then," I bite my lip thinking. Only one question blooms in my mind. "How do you know I tried to kill myself? You've never been able to see things like that." He smiles, "Aries." "That Aries?" I ask, surprised. He nods. I frown, why would Aries, a demon of Cthulhu, help the son of Satin?
"Little bird," he breathes, grabbing my chin and forcing me to look in his eyes, "I can see the questions swirling in your eyes. But, another time." He leans down, grazing his teeth along my neck. I'm frozen. He bites down, blood instantly running down my neck. He licks it up and drinks deeply. Embarrassingly, a moan escapes my lips. "Adrian," Damien whispers in my ear, "you have the sweetest blood." An involuntary shiver runs down my spine.
I push him back, coming back to my senses. He licks some stray blood from his lips. "You will return to me, little bird." He grabs me and forcefully kisses me. Before I can react, he merges into my body. I gasp, it feels like cold water was dumped over me. The tips of my fingers and toes go numb with cold and it creeps up my body. I'm brought to my knees when it nears my chest. "Damien, you asshole," I whisper. I curl into a ball as the numbness spreads to my heart. There's nothing I can do to stop this possession.
…
My world is dark. I can't feel anything. There's nothing but silence. I could try to fight back and see what I'm being forced to do, but there is no point. My blood has undoubtedly given Damien more than enough strength to keep me from interfering. No, I might as well lose myself in the void.
I stare into the vast nothing, my mind blank. Who knows how long I float in the void. Hours? Days? Weeks? Time is nothing when there is nothing to see or feel. I float up, as if being pulled. I sigh. Time to return to my body and deal with the mess Damien has made for me.
I'm blinded by a flash of white light. And just like that, I'm back in control of my body. I blink rapidly, trying to dispel the spots in my eyes. My ears are ringing and my senses are nonexistent. The first thing to come back is my touch. I'm on my belly, cheek pressed to what feels like wood. I lie still, waiting. The ringing in my ears finally stops and my vision clears. It's dark and I can smell blood, at least from two different people. "Shit," I groan, slowly sitting up in a kneeling position. I survey my surroundings. Looks like I'm in the attic of a rundown building, most of the roof is missing and moonlight is spilling into the room. There's dust and broken furniture scattered around. I stand and the floor groans in protest. I look behind me for the first time and see several stained mattresses where there is some roof left and garbage surrounding them. Squatters.
I swallow hard, it's mostly likely these people's blood I smell. I move as quietly as I can to the attic hatch next to the beds, but the floor cries with every step. The ladder is already down and the blood aroma is wafting up from below. I abandon the idea of being quiet and jump down, landing on the balls of my feet. I freeze and listen, but there is no movement within the house. Down here the house isn't in much better shape than the attic. Much of the drywall from two bedrooms is missing and where there is drywall the paint is peeling. I turn from the rooms and head down the hall just for something sharp to sink into my foot.
I hiss and grab my foot. Somehow, I didn't notice I was barefoot. I bring my foot as close to my face as I can and see a nail sticking out. I pull it out and blood immediately pours out. I toss it aside, grateful I can't get tetanus. I can see a light switch at the end of the hall and carefully walk to it, hoping the lights are still on. I flip the switch and, of course, nothing happens. I flip the switch back down and sigh. I peer into what's left of the living room. Among the trashed furniture, I can see two shapes on the ground that could be bodies. I cautiously approach, but everything is still.
The closer I get the more my throat burns from thirst. I crouch down to the body closest to me. It's a grubby, stinky old man and his throat has been slashed, leaving a dark puddle around his head. I step over him to the next body. This one is face down so I roll it over. It's a woman but it appears she was shot in the head. Her skin is still warm so she died very recently. Hopefully this is a sign that I didn't kill either of these people. I lean down and bite her. Might as well not let these deaths go to waste.
…
I slam the door shut, beyond relieved to be home. The house I was at was on the outskirts of the opposite side of town where I live so I had to walk several miles barefoot. On top of that it felt like someone was watching me the whole walk home. I drag my filthy ass upstairs and try not to worry about all the possible things Damien could have done while he had possessed me. I strip off my blood covered clothes and start a scalding shower. I stare at the clothes while I wait for the water to warm and hope the blood is mine and not someone else's.
I jump in the shower and scrub vigorously, my skin turning pink and raw. I finally stop when blood blooms on my arm. I turn the water off and wrap myself in towel, my skin already healing itself and returning to its usual pale. That's when I notice it. There's a jagged maroon pattern on my left arm stretching all the way out to my shoulder. I wipe off the mirror. The original shape of my tattoo can be seen, but the pink branch has become faded and the maroon has branched off, warping into an intricate pattern that completely covers my collar bone and shoulder. "Damnit," I whisper. What did he make me do for this to happen?
I go into my room, greeted by the light of the start of a new day. I notice something on my dresser. It's my phone. I pick it and a folded piece of paper falls on the floor. I ignore it and check the time. Fucking shit, it's six a.m. Monday morning. Guess I'll be finding out what I did sooner rather than later. I suppose I should be grateful I was possessed for only two days but fuck it.
I remember the paper and scoop if off the floor. I unfold it and freeze. 'I know. We'll be in touch,' is all that's printed on it. "Damnit!" I slam my fists on the dresser. This was a terrible fucking way to start off the school year. I take deep breaths and unclench my fists. No point in crying over spilled me. I drop my towel and head for the closet, might as well get ready for the shit storm that is today.
