My Personal Demon

11:12

"You were my next target. Your husband's death made you vulnerable. You don't have many friends and you also don't keep close contact with your family. I thought you would be missed, but not terribly so," he said honestly.

His amber eyes flashed ominously as he spoke. The horns poking out from his curls seemed to grow, stretching from his skull.

"And is that still your intention with me? To take my soul?" I don't sound as scared as I should be. A strange calm had settled over me.

"I don't know." His hands were shaking. How did this terrify him more than me?

"It wasn't supposed to be like this," he explained. "But I don't want to go back to being strangers. What we have is precious."

I couldn't help but smile. "How was it supposed to be, then? What did you plan to do with me?"

He blinks in surprise. "Originally, I had hoped to scare you. Slowly tear apart reality as you knew it, peeling away everything near and dear to you. I wanted to make you desperate, doubt every single thing about yourself. Once you were at your limit, I would force you to give up your soul for a shred of sanity. You would be left as a husk of what you were, but I would get to return home."

"But you were more clever than that," he added. "You refused to be manipulated in that way. Instead, you were the one that made me question my sanity. You intrigued me, Yvette. I had to know you because of that."

I maintained eye contact, processing the information. "Do you think you know me now?"

"I know that I like you too much to hurt you. But no, even now I don't think I completely know you. I could spend a lifetime trying to piece together who you are, but I still won't have an answer when you're in your grave. You've bewitched me and I don't know what to do about that."

If he weren't also the object of my affections, I would've laughed. Was being in love such a death sentence that it confused him, an eons old demon? He was a fool to forget what he was. But what did that make me, the person in love with the fool?

I reach across the table, wrapping my fingers around his hand. He looks at me with sparks lighting up his warm eyes.

"Please tell me how you feel," he said. "If you're angry or if you hate me, I'll make peace with it. If you have the particular urge to hurt me, I'll put the blade in your hands. I have nothing else to hide from you."

"You came here to take my soul," I began. "You wanted to ruin me, but you failed."

His hand tightens around mine. "You're right. I don't deny that."

"The only thing you succeeded in doing was sabotaging yourself. The smart thing for me to do would be to send you away. You're a threat to my life."

He grows cold at my words. "I will do whatever you ask of me."

"Then stay with me," I said. "Never leave my side. I can't bear to live an empty life again."

"Is that what you really want?" There was worry in his eyes and the emotion made me even more sure of my words.

"I think it's what we both want. Spend the rest of my life with me, please." It's my turn to squeeze his hands.

"I want this," he agreed. "But there are complications. Your lifetime won't be long enough for me. And without a human soul to consume, I will fade away, doomed to slowly weaken over time."

Ah, he meant that complication. He was a demon. I was a human. In a way, we were doomed from the start. But would it really be painful to spend that small eternity together? Couldn't he do this for me and continue his sinful existence after I passed?

I ask him as much and he lets out a long heaving sigh.

"It would be easy to do that if I could imagine my existence without you."

"Can't you?" He would need to if I was going to have him.

"No."

"Won't you stay?" This was the closest I'd go to begging on my knees.

"I can't promise anything, but I will stay as long as I can without hurting you."

He could've lied to me. Wouldn't that have been easier for him? If he played into my fantasies, he would've been rewarded with my smile. But we were long past playing games, him and I. We were more than the demon and widow trapped in a house together.

Could I pretend that he was nothing to me at this point? Let's say that he was a figment of my imagination all along. The pain of separation wouldn't hurt any less.

I turn on the radio, hearing Vivaldi blast through the speakers. It was the same piece that played the day that he died. I keep it on for a few minutes, waiting to see if something would happen. I half expected the world to collapse or to the very least, finding streams of tears running down my face.

Nothing changes.