Demon Turned Lover [BxB]

An evil stalks

        "Angel, did I lock the door on the way out?"

        "You did." I stared at him, whom had perplexity diving into his grey eyes. "And you pressed down on the hinge thrice."

         The raven-haired's dark brows were lowered before he pushed open the brown door, shock unfurling over his face. My jaw went agape as my grip on the wrinkled packet attenuated. "What happened?..."

         We trod inside gingerly. Fragments of glass from the table had met their expiry on the white carpet; the pewter couches were forced onto their back, cushions spilling from them; beer bottles were thrown across the room, bursting their amber colour onto the wall. I glanced down at the rended vase of flowers, each tulip alive but recovering. I looked towards Mammon, to ask him once more, but my eyes widened. He was shaking, as different hues of anger disseminated from his body. A sight that fermented fear in my stomach.

        "Mammon...it'll be alrigh-"

        "No." He rotated on his heel, and strode out.

        "What? Mammon! Where are you going!?"

         The raven-haired paused but kept his back to me, "Out. Stay here."

         "No, Mammon!" I exclaimed, my hands striving to snatch his zip up. "You're going to do something you'll regre-"

         The raven-haired, still in body, turned abruptly to face me—and revealed a gaze, sore browbeating, to my orbs. Words were exchanged not, in fact, nothing needed to be uttered. His eyes told me, what his hands hankered to do.

        Stay the hell back.

        My mind, a lone tornado in the midst of nothing live, took in the sight of Mammon striding down the wooden stairs. I had no craving to listen—I knew something terrible was stalking behind him, yet, his thawing eyes deducted my power to act. I turned, as the light of the sun caressed my burdened back through the window.

       The diaspora of shards traversed through the air until they found me, a quivering mass. I stood afraid—a first. My core, growing tender. My hands, stiff. My eyes, lifting heavy and due clouds. A broken breath split my lips. Each part of me ached, ached for him to stop. Whatever be it he was going to do, I wanted him to stop, and return to my arms.

       "Do but put another sin above his head, my Lord." The grey clouds began to fall apart, as my knees hit the floor. "Forgive him."

        The clear fragments all trickled into my cupped palms, etching their signatures into my skin. "Do not...curse us anymore, I beg you my Lord.."

        I squeezed the angered crowd in my hands, my scarlet pain, and a whimper, finally seeping through. I was near to bringing the glass to my forehead, but something coursed through me.

        Blood.

        I opened my eyes swiftly to locate the smell. A pinkish substance coated the glass in my palms. Was that...my blood?

        All glass surged from my hands and away onto the ground as I rose promptly. The irony scent entered my nostrils, whilst I gaped at the leaking lacerations immersed in my palms.

      What...was wrong with me?

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩 𓂋 𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

       I blinked slowly at the door, once and then again as I set the sprightly flowers down. I had heard something, footsteps, but inconstant they were. And, nor could I marry those thuds with a presence. I exhaled, allowing for fresh concern to settle. Where was he? Why wasn't he back yet? I flumped onto the outlying upholstered chair. By the time another hour passed, I would become non compos mentis. It felt like I was sequestered within this apartment; every second that drifted away, drove the walls closer to me. And each time I lurked too close to the door, would a profound feeling thrash me. My nails streeled through my hair, sowing seeds of agony.

         Who did this? And, why could I bleed?

        A pressing weight plunged the silver door hinge, and I quickly shot up.

        He was back!...

        I trudged for the brown door prior to it being pushed open, a gentle squeak bursting in before him. "Mammon!"

         The raven-haired stumbled inside, sanguine palms shown to the drying air, narrowed eyes gazing into cauldrons of black, and wavering lips failing to meet. Soon, my own pair were just like his. A gust of tears were blown into my eyes.

        "Luka...I-" Even his voice seemed contused to the ear.

         The zip was labouring to hold the stretched jacket up; the silver cross he wore with opaque scorn this morning muffled his wrist; the white shirt was torn, and dyed with blood of the deepest shade. The blood of a brute.

         "I killed him."

         My eyes, at last, met with his. The glimmer in his eyes was plundered, and replaced with terror.

        He was lying...

        He couldn't have...

        My Mammon wasn't capable of that, I was sure of it!

       "You're lying," I mumbled as I moved to him, the smell of his fray extant and hot tears gliding down my cheeks. I touched his warm face with my incised fingers. "Tell me you're lying..."

       "I killed him," the raven-haired croaked, a weak voice to grant energy for a twist in his expression. "Shit, shit, shit!"

       Mammon took hold of my forearm in a thrice, like an agile cat clamped its jaw around a mouse. I simply stared at him as he started running, pulling my yielding body with him.

        How much more would we have to endure?