The Demonic Society

Conflicting Clarification

These were the thoughts running through my mind while I made my way back to the bedroom. I began to wonder what it'd be like to share the story of my life with someone other than myself. My chest tightened as wistful longing spread through me.

Mallory chose that unguarded instant to peek over her shoulder. In another life I would have held eye contact, would have let her see the broken pieces floundering around inside my soul, but this was real life. I was the half prince of the eighth kingdom in hell and to think a good thing could last in a place like this would be ignorant.

I shifted my face to neutral as I made my way over to her. My closeness made her tense up all over again and when she placed her hands on the side of the chair in attempt to stand, I shook my head.

"There's no need. I won't bite." Her eyes still looked frightful as I set the medical supplies down on the glass coffee table. Her soul was swimming anew with the awful colors she'd had earlier. I couldn't think of a proper way to change it so I knelt down in front of her and said with as much cockiness as I could muster, "Unless you want me to."

Her soul rippled with newfound color. The cherry red matched the blush that'd bloomed upon her cheeks.

"Your perverted jokes will get you nowhere." She informed biting the inside of her cheek to hide her amused smile. Little did she know that my jokes already had the exact effect I'd wanted.

I shrugged and grabbed the ibuprofen from the container of supplies. When I held the bottle out to her she read the label before popping two into her mouth and swallowing them whole.

A new shade of white spots arose within the her circulating soul as confusion overtook her facial features.

"I don't understand any of this. Why do I feel so much pain? Why doesn't it feel like—- I don't know. . . Death?" She reached her hand behind her back to feel the mauled tissue on her shoulder blades. "What's happening to me?"

"I'll explain everything that I can, I promise." I grabbed reached for one of her hands. "Just let me take care of these wounds first, alright?"

Her eyes searched mine, trying to find unhidden intentions I didn't have. She took her time nodding her head as she pulled her hand away from me. "Okay."

"Shall we start with your knees?" I questioned glancing at the scrapped skin there. "Your back, chest, or something else?"

"My knees." She didn't take her eyes off of me as I grabbed the hydrogen peroxide to disinfect her scrapes. I began to think she was going to push me away when she asked instead, "If I'm dead, why do I feel so alive?"

"Long story short, you live three lives." I began, feeling her flinch as the peroxide sizzled. "One being that which you lived on earth. The second being based off the essence of your soul. The third depending on weather or not you went to heaven or hell."

"What if you went to hell?" She questioned fully intrigued enough to ignore the physical pain brought by me cleansing and bandaging her up.

"If your soul dies in hell you become a demon." As I finished patching up her legs and feet it dawned on me on how intimate it was to be kneeling in front of her. A prince of hell was kneeling before her and she was oblivious.

"How does a soul die?" She asked holding out her hand for a hand towel I'd wetted down before existing the bathroom. She slowly rubbed the dry dirt and blood off the wound on her chest.

"There are different ways, it can be emotionally for some and physical for others." I was careful to keep my voice calm as I stood from the spot I was in. The monster within me fought to keep me in the prior position that would surely tempt me to cause more harm than good.

"I feel like a cat." When I raised my eyebrows up at the fascinating remark, she clarified, "The theory, cats have nine lives? Except I've been cheated and only get three." I laughed, a deep chuckle that ran through my bones and shocked my core.

"That's just how a humans life span works. It varies from creature to creature. The circumstances are also different in heaven." I took a seat in the black leather chair across from her and crossed one leg over the other.

"Let me guess, if your soul dies in heaven you become an angel?" She placed the towel she'd been using down and examined my patchwork.

"Correct. There are many types of angels and demons. It all depends on how your soul dies." I watched her cringe as she poured peroxide onto the infected part of her chest. "If someone dies as an angel they become reincarnated with no memory of their past life."

"What if you die as a demon? Are you just gone forever?" As she asked she put dressing over her wound.

"Essentially, yes." I replied as she took a large bandage from the supply box. "Right now, as you can see, you're in your soul faze."

"Do you have one?" She stood from her chair slowly, filling the space between us with a a few steps, the bottle of hydrogen peroxide in her right hand.

"A soul?" I uncrossed my legs and took the bottle from her. When she turned her back to me I didn't need to ask to know what she intended me to do.

"Yes." I studied the damage of the two long vertical lines and fought myself from demanding to know what color her wings were.

"Of course." I searched through my soul for one of the many emotions I was feeling and let calmness fade past the walls of my mind. "Look." She turned her head to survey royal blue smog.

"Why's it blue?" She turned her head back as I covered her shoulder blades with bandages. 

"As I mentioned earlier, your soul reflects the emotions you're feeling. Each color and shade mean something different." I carefully let my hands trail along the fabric of the bandages and then withdrew.

"Why couldn't I see yours before now?" She stepped away, favoring one foot over the other.

"You can learn to hide it." I informed her as she took her seat again and her good eye watched the fire hiss.

"Will you show me how?" She asked, fiddling with the fabric at the bottom of her nightgown.

"It'll take time." I responded unable to take my eyes of her, because despite her mangled features, she was a naturally beautiful woman.

"We have plenty of that." She turned her emerald eye back towards me and my heart leaped in my chest.

I was a foolish, foolish man and she was going to be the death of me.