The Demon's Curse (BXB)

Chapter Two

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Five years later

"Happy Birthday Nix!" Grace smiled, holding out a little box wrapped in black paper with a gold bow tied firmly round it.

"You really didn't have t-" Nixon began, but Grace smothered his words with her hand, laughing.

She removed her hand, but as soon as she did Nixon began the object again. This time she pushed one finger firmly to his lips.

"Oh do shut up, Nix. Every year you decline my gifts, and I let it slide. But this year is special, because you're eighteen!" Still smiling, Grace held out the little parcel again.

Nixon just didn't get it. Why is eighteen a special birthday? This year will be just as crappy as the last, just as pain filled. Why wouldn't Grace just give him some space on his birthday? She knew what happened that day, she had been through his private file at the orphanage after all.

"I don't want it" he said, turning to walk away.

He'd taken one step when Grace grabbed the back of his shirt. He looked over his shoulder and glared at her, trying to get her to leave him alone. But Grace wasn't fazed, she was used to Nixon's cold exterior. She knew he only put on a brave face for show, that he was hiding so much pain inside.

She felt similar pain, her parents had dumped her on the doorstep of the orphanage when she was four years old. She hadn't even known their names, but she had found her file a few years back. It said she'd been found with a note saying she was an accident, that her parents didn't want her. Up until then, she hadn't cared that she didn't know her parents. It was when she found out she'd been dumped because she was an accident that broke her heart.

Hands trembling, she held out the little present again. Nixon sighed.

"If I take your stupid present, will you leave me alone already?" He said, sounding tired.

Grace nodded.

"Fine, whatever" Nixon said, snatching the present from her outstretched hands before walking away from her. He was as distant as ever.

Grace stared at his back sadly as he walked away.

~~~

The boy was lying on his side, writhing in agony. His mother had tried to comfort him, but it only made things worse. Her touch burnt his skin, it felt like fire was licking at his body. When his mother was unable to comfort him, she turned her back on her son and walked away, out of his life for good. Hands reaching out for his mother, the boy's eyes slid slowly closed.

Gasping, Nixon fought free of the memory. He found himself on the floor of his small shoebox of a bedroom, the room he'd had for five years.

He remembered walking through the door, but nothing after that. He assumed he'd fainted. After all, he hadn't eaten much.

He only remembered it was his birthday when he saw Grace's parcel lying next to him. Getting to his feet, he grabbed the parcel and walked over to the bin, intending to get rid of the offensive item. But something stopped him.

Sighing, he threw the thing onto his broken bed before going to sit there himself. He never intended to open the box, but curiosity soon got the better of him.

He picked up the box again and began untying the gold bow, which was surprisingly difficult due to his broad male hands. When he did eventually manage to undo the bow, he angrily ripped off the black paper. A plain cardboard box now sat in his lap.

Opening the lid, he saw a note scribbled on a ripped piece of paper. 'I saved up all year so I hope this is okay, it was all I could afford. Happy birthday Nix, love Grace'

A small teddy bear sat in the box with a necklace tied around its neck. Nixon took the fluffy brown bear from the box and removed the necklace from it.

It appeared to be a plain black stone, but on closer inspection Nixon noticed it also had shards of purple inside it. It seemed to shimmer and cool when he held it. He fastened the simple silver chain around his neck without thinking about it.

Another note lay in the bottom of the box.

'The shopkeeper asked if I knew a male, roughly 19, called Nixon, so I said yes. He gave me this necklace for free and told me to give it to you, I couldn't possibly refuse and he was so polite. He was really handsome too. He had black hair and the most unusual black eyes, and was relatively tall. Is he a mate of yours? He knew it was your birthday but he got your age wrong. He didn't give his name, but he couldn't have been more than twenty-seven. Anyway, consider it an extra birthday present. Grace xx'

Something was familiar about the brief, vague description of the man Grace had given him. It tugged at his memory, but he couldn't quiet place it. Shrugging it off, he climbed into bed, tossing and turning restlessly until he fell into an undisturbed slumber.