015 - HER

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My suffering grows harder and harder to hide.

I stop leaving my temple cabin, because I fear what might happen if I unleash my moodiness on the wrong person.

Fear the goddesses might spot me and end me.

My isolation is lonely, but at night, I have a...visitor.

He comes into my dreams; the strangest dreams.

It's Az. As if he never left, as if he still cares.

And it's like he's there on his own volition, not mine. Like his consciousness projects into me and defies all logic. I'm not putting him there: he's showing up, every time I close my eyes.

I didn't know demons could walk into dreams, but when it comes to Az...nothing is normal. Nothing is what I'm used to.

In these dreams, we kiss, touch, get naked, have sex; but then he spends what feels like hours interrogating me. His questions are deep-rooted. "Who are you?" or "what are you?" are common asks. Once, he said, "do you work for the goddesses, or are you a goddess?"

Though I have no control over what happens in my dreams, my subconscious is smart enough to dodge his queries. If he hasn't figured out what I am by now—his nemesis, basically—then I don't feel it's my place to inform him.

I'm sure the goddesses will appreciate me keeping my mouth shut.

The truth is, while I do work for the goddesses, I'm a free agent. But Az can't know that. I don't trust him—or this ominous dream version of him, either.

I'm still not sure if he's really there, in my head, or if I'm so enamored with the idea of him coming back that I'm making all this up in my fitful slumber.

During the day, I venture into the temple to research. The priestesses steer clear of me, still, and it surprises me they haven't kicked me out. I figure avoiding them is the best option for now.

My reading tells me some demons can enter dreams and manipulate them. So is that what Az is doing to me? And why?

Where is he? I steal glances out my window, wondering if he's hiding in the trees, pulling his marionette strings to sneak into my mind and mess me up.

But it's not possible. Demons can't walk on holy grounds, and I have a barrier around my dwelling that should alert me to his presence.

I've received no alerts and have felt no trace whatsoever of his demonic energy. Except in my dreams.

It doesn't make sense. He shouldn't be able to do this to me; make me feel so shitty all the time. So depressed, sad. So lonely. He shouldn't have access to my heart, nor the knowledge on how to wound it.

And yet, I can find no other explanation for why I'm so ruined on the inside, such a monster on the outside. My hair is thick with tangles, my skin is flaky from neglect. I've lost weight from not eating as much, and I sag forward, my posture atrocious.

Everything I was—a revered angel of love who protects the people from heartbreak—has vanished. I'm a shell of a person, insides rotting from sorrow and rage.

These dreams always end in me waking unsatisfied. No matter how many times I orgasm in my head, it never happens when I'm awake. I've tried, several times, to touch myself, to alleviate my pain...but all my thoughts are of Az. And I can't seem to climax to the man who captured my heart but also stomped on it.

In my dreams, he showers me in attention. He drowns my senses with love and affection, wraps his hands around my hips and pulls me in, drinks me up.

When I wake, though, the only sensation I get is my heart squeezed of emotion, writhing in pain. Withering away.

Everyday, I feel weaker. The more aroused I am in my dreams, the more tired I am when I open my eyes. The frustration and confusion take root in me, and I shatter vases and porcelain pots and rip down paintings from my walls to tamper my anger.

My home is chaotic; bits of glass and China are strewn over the floor. They're covered in blood because of the times I stepped over the shards and cut myself. That pain I'm still immune to; any pain I inflict on myself pales in comparison to the agony in my heart.

He's not physically present, and yet I smell him, sense him holding me all the time. I crave for it to be true, for him to be here. For him to prostrate at my feet and apologize, explain to me why he's tormenting me so.

I wish for him, yearn for him, and not solely for the sex; it's more than that. I've always known it's more than that.

If it were only physical, I'd have moved on by now. I'd end my isolation and return to my post and continue my mission.

A mission I've completely abandoned in favor of myself. I grit my teeth and rock myself back and forth as I imagine the damage my disappearance has caused. How many darkened hearts are wandering around in Hazelvale now? How many have spread their suffering to others? Has heartbreak become a real, palpable thing?

How much disease has propagated in the wake of my demise?

Another day, another tug at my heart. I've almost become used to the sensation, the prickles followed by the iciness that floats through my veins. Everyday a new icicle forms over my heart, a new thread of sadness weaves into my membranes.

I'm drifting deeper and deeper into trouble, unsure where to go, what to do. I should consult the goddesses, but if they haven't discovered my failure yet, I worry what will happen if I bring it to them.

They'll see me gone from the world permanently.

An angel, falling in love with a demon who breaks her heart and leaves her to fend for herself and forget about her tasks?

Never heard of. The goddesses will have my head for it, and Az's.

I don't want him to die. But at the same time...he should pay for what he did to me.

I look in the mirror and gasp. That's not me, staring back; that's a creature Az created, one whose heart he sullied.

It's blackening. I can see it through my chest, pulsating with fury. The arteries are dark, choked with heated blood. But my extremities are like ice. And my mind is numb.

I'm a disaster.

His voice repeats, over and over and over. What are you, Dru?

"No, but really," I say to my reflection, wincing at the sound of my ragged voice. "What am I?"

Az is breaking my heart, and I don't know how to stop it. The usual solution to this is to kill...but I can't kill myself.

It's a curse, and I can't escape it.

I'm doomed.

Wordcount: 1,145TOTAL: 27,583

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Wordcount: 1,145
TOTAL: 27,583

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