The Contract

XVIII - Aeternalis

His closed expression told me he was not joking around with me. He looked too serious, as if he dared me to laugh in his face and say, "No, really, where am I?"

I was at a loss. I had no idea what to say.

"Your family came in earlier to see if you were conscious," Lure began nonchalantly, once again becoming interested in his fingernails. "They left only an hour ago."

"You possessed me," I whispered, too drained to bother to make my voice sound accusing or piercing. He tried fighting a smile down, but in the end, it won. I didn't bother to scowl, or give him the satisfaction of letting him know that I was terrified out of my mind.

"I possessed you," he confirmed, then leisurely pushed himself off the wall. He stood up straight, showing off his full height, and gazed at me with mild concern. "I made you kill Amanda." He indicated towards my hands, which were folded in my lap. "I made sure to leave plenty of evidence." He glanced over to the door, which I had not quite acknowledged earlier. It had no handle—what the—? Oh, right. . . I was mental. "You were classified as unbalanced, just as I had hoped. Your mother gave quite an interesting report on your past behavior." He paused to smile, his eyes wide with delight. "Talking to yourself, were you, my love?"

Anger bristled inside of me. How dare he. How fucking dare he!

"Cutting yourself?" he blinked innocently. "Why would you slice a happy face on your stomach, you silly girl?"

How. Fucking. Dare. He.

"And who is this odd imaginary friend you have?" He shielded his mouth with a hand to hide an unconstrained grin. "What's his name again? Lure?"

"How dare you!" I shrieked, jumping off the bed and for Lure. I made a move to hit him, but my hand flew straight through him. With wide eyes, I focused on his face in shock.

"Surprised?" he inquired, clearly amused. I slowly became aware that my breathing was rational; I must have looked like a lunatic. Thoughts filtered through my mind as I watched the infuriating demon inspect me mockingly.

Why had I loved him? Was it because he had been the first "person" to show me love, other than my family? He had told me that he loved me and there was no feeling greater than knowing you were loved. I had clung to him, if only to savor the feeling of being loved.

Damn him.

The one wish I really wanted was to be loved, but I had never realized that. Not until now.

Nothing good could have came out of those wishes. I knew that now. If only I had known that then. I realized that you needed to do things on your own in order for them to work out. I had been punished severely for having things handed to me; first, the wishes had all gone wrong, and now, the one who loved me was a sadistic demon who insisted on torturing me and was going to leave me to rot in this horrid place.

I just wanted to be loved. I just wanted to be normal. I just wanted to be happy.

I supposed Lure and I had one thing is common: we were both selfish.

"Interestingly enough," Lure began with a drawn out sigh, tipping his head to look past me as if I no longer interested him, "I'm back where I started."

"You're a demon again," I assumed. Lure's gaze flickered back onto me; sharply, bitterly, and a little wryly.

"Yes," he said without much enthusiasm, "I am a demon once more. I have," he paused to smile mischievously at me, "come to the conclusion, that being a human is rather. . . depressing."

I frowned. "Why's that?"

"Well," Lure arched his eyebrows as a small smirk took hold of his lips, "look at you, for example."

I hated him. I hated him with a passion. I told him so.

"You hate me?" he sneered, stepping closer to me. "You have no reason."

What? "I'm here because of you!" I shrieked, throwing my arms up in exasperation. I did a full spin and stopped only to grasp my hair in frustration. I squealed nonsense before dropping my arms to my sides and pitifully gazing up at the demon who seem to understand so little.

"You tried to kill me," Lure countered irritably. I could tell by the waver in his voice that he was trying his hardest not to yell at me. He was beyond angry; the furor in his blood red eyes was only too evident. He took another step towards me and stopped in front of me. I stared at him, unable to hide my fear. "I wish I could slap you," he stated, then raved on, "I wish I could tear your pretty eyes out, I wish I could rip you from your spleen to your neck, I wish I could tear your flesh with my teeth and listen as you scream in such fucking pain." He paused to catch his breath, as his voice had gotten sharper and icier.

I winced at his horrible words.

"Sadly, all I can do," he stepped away, looking oddly calm again, "is watch you suffer by other methods. Emotional methods."

I opened my mouth to speak, but he was suddenly gone. I stood, staring at the spot where he had just been, my lips still parted. I closed them and looked at the floor, put off.

Without quite knowing what I was doing—for the next fifteen minutes, I screamed and attacked everything in sight, which was only the walls, floor, and white bed.

-

When I woke up a third time, I was not greeted by a white ceiling, but instead, a black one. Fear seized me for a moment before I realized that I was still in the same room as earlier—just, the lights were out.

I remembered a doctor walking in on my while I had been flipping out. Her name tag read "Dr. Lee"; Lure had said that she was my personal doctor. She had sedated me, then carried me onto my bed, where I fell unconscious. . . again.

So. . . this was my life now. I was to live completely alone, being treated as a mental case.

Except. . . at the moment, I wasn't quite alone. I soon realized. . . I would, actually, never be truly alone.

Lure would make sure of that.

I felt his presence lean close to me before his warm breath tickled my ear.

"Make your first wish, my little Kitten."

All I could do was scream.