Everything Sinister

Five

Tears are for people who have something to cry for. We have nothing to lose.

~SG

~

Sweet Agent Wilmslow. Everyone has a weakness. Weaknesses. It's a devil's way of making sure, he has something to bargain with. We feared ourselves, or rather our weak spots. Our mistakes. They are something others can control us with. It's a paying chip for trust.

I won't say that Demont was my weakness. Because you already know. I hated him for it. So, so much. But he made me something else besides weak and well, horny. And no matter how I hated it, I endured it, because it was the best thing I ever had.

Besides. I already had one weakness before him.

That evening I was moaning above the plate full of caramels. It melted in my mouth and the tender taste of added milk made my taste buds orgasm, I swear.

You don't happen to have caramels here, do you?

No.

You are so mean.

I was looking through a file. A contract. I tried not to look in the eyes of the photos for too long. I never called them by their real names. I always called them the Contract. It was a cruel way to dehumanize someone, but it was necessary. God, I sound like such an asshole right now.

The kitchen was warm from someone's baking, Sheila didn't think I noticed this morning. The scent of caramels hung in the air just like the anticipation. I was waiting for her. Sheila, I mean. The nights she had fights I always opted for caramels instead of fruit after dinner. You can deduce whatever you'd like from that.

"Lovelle!"

I stood up. The plate shattered on the ground. Demont's growl startled me. There was something about the pure urgency. And when I ran out of the kitchen with a gun behind my back, a surprise was waiting for me in the main hall.

I turned the lights on.

Sheila was in Demont's arms and blood was trickling down her arm.

Her face was incredibly bloodied. A bruise was appearing on her neck in the shape of a hand. Her arm was rested unnaturally. Her shoulder was probably dislocated. She looked like a drunk, mumbling words. There was a gash on her head, blood pouring from the wound.

She was conscious but fuck did she look like hell.

Demont was breathing hard.

"She wouldn't let me-"

I tucked the gun back in the holster under my shirt, so he wouldn't see it and shook my head, silencing the man. I grabbed Sheila's cheek and looked at her.

"Sheila, do you know where you are?"

She nodded, sobbing.

"That doctor-"

"I know."

She wasn't confused or delusional. She was in shock and was panicking like crazy. I wiped her tears away, my hand shook a little. I looked at my fingers, shaking ever-so-slightly.

"Lovelle," Demont grunted impatiently.

I nodded frigidly and turned around. Demont followed me to the kitchen. I swept everything off the table.

"Lie her down," I commanded cooly.

Demont very gently laid Sheila on the table. Like she might break. And at that moment, neither of us knew if she would. Sheila was still crying from pain. Her skin was covered with fresh and dried blood and dirt and sweat.