Alexander the Fallen [Book 1] ✔

Chapter 12-Deal With The Devil

I'm glad the thought of killing and torturing me brings him joy.

I stood up and my body was displeased with how cold the floor was.

If he isn't going to leave, I'm not going to give him the satisfaction to stay.

I slowly walked out my room and made my way downstairs without saying a word to him. He instantly appeared in front of me, using whatever fallen ability he has, but instead of jumping away like last time, I didn't react at all.

He frowned.

I made my way to the kitchen with Alexander following closely behind. "Look, here's a pan! Try hitting me." He got into a fighting position but I rolled my eyes and opened the counter, looking around for a jar of Nutella. I grabbed it and passed by Alexander again without even looking at him.

Today is Sunday.

People are usually eating out with friends and shopping or whatever. I'm sitting on a couch with a jar of Nutella in hand and a fallen angel next to me, waiting for me to scream in terror.

Maybe he's hungry.

I looked at him then pointed at the Nutella jar in my hand.

"You want me to kill you with this?" He asked, confused.

Fallen angels...

"I'm offering you some to eat." I clarified. He shook his head at me. I shrugged and went back to eating. It was starting to get awkward because he was just sitting there, staring at me, while I ate quietly. After I've had enough, I closed the jar and placed it on the table. "So, why are you here, anyways?" I asked with curiosity.

"Because I can be." He shrugged, staring at the wall. He seemed to be bothered by something but I wasn't going to give someone trying to kill me a free therapy session.

However, I was still curious.

"So, since you're not chasing after me and seem to be in an okay mood for a conversation, you want to tell me what you're thinking about?" I watched as he ignored me and continued staring at the wall. "Is that a no?" He still wasn't answering. This is so unlike him.

He'd usually be making some sadistic comments by now.

I'm sitting right in front of him, vulnerable, with no weapons or anything to defend myself from him at all and he's just sitting there, staring at a wall.

He leaned back on the couch and closed his eyes. He was wearing tight black pants and a black shirt that he seemed to wear very often. He was dressed nicely, but his hair looked messy and his dark, tired eyes made it seem like he hasn't slept in a whole week.

This is going to sound ironic when I say it, but he looked like he went through actual hell before coming to my house.

His face was set in a frown and now I'm more curious than ever to know what was wrong with him. Maybe I could use it against him somehow.

Unconsciously, I moved my hand to fix his hair but before I even came close to touching him, his hands shot out and grabbed mine harshly. His eyes opened and they were red again. I cowered away in fear at how scary they looked. "Never try to touch me again." His voice was low and I found myself nodding immediately.

"I just wanted to know what happened; I don't know why I tried to touch your hair." I tried shrugging the awkward tension off and sat up straight on the couch. He straightened his posture as well, without breaking eye contact with me.

"Since you're curious, there is a time that comes every year when Fallen Angels get reminded of their sins and the reason behind them falling. It's a punishment given to us to be reminded of what we did wrong and the consequences that followed our actions." That sounds tough but it does make sense. He continued, "We don't only get to remember the accident, we also have to feel every single emotion we felt that day; from the look of disappointment and judgment in the angels eyes, to the feeling of having our wings ripped apart and replaced by dark ones that 'represented how dark our souls were'. They're quite dramatic, you see." An expression of pain crossed his eyes but he immediately turned around and put a straight face on.

"That's...harsh. I'm guessing that time of the year is now?" If I had to be reminded of all the times I made someone feel like shit or had someone make me feel like that, I wouldn't know how to act.

Not that I feel bad for him or anything, but I already get so embarrassed and annoyed at myself every time I remember a situation that I handled incorrectly and spend the rest of the day wishing I could go back and do it differently.

"It's close." I nodded at him. "Now, it's just the occasional nightmares." He chuckled darkly with a shrug.

This may seem too blunt, but I had to ask. "And why did you fall?" He looked taken aback by my sudden question. Okay, maybe that was too straight forward.

"It's really none of your business." He answered dryly. I rolled my eyes at his response.

I mean, he was telling me he had to remember it every year so might as well share the rest of the story.

It got quiet after that and I had no idea what to say to break the silence. I looked around my living room to see if there was anything I could do to get rid of this awkwardness and my eyes landed on a bottle of Tequila I had.

On a scale from 1 to extremely terrible, how bad does this idea sound?

You see, I don't drink. But Skylar does and that's why I always kept an extra bottle at my house, in case she was ever staying over.

With a hesitant smile, I grabbed the bottle and waved it in Alexander's face. I hate drinking, but maybe I'll make an exception today. "I'm feeling quite shitty myself today, too. How does getting drunk on a Sunday morning with a human being sound to you?"

He looked at me for a whole minute before replying, "Like a dumb idea. Like an absolutely stupid and terrible idea since I have a very high tolerance for alcohol and will probably never get drunk at all." I frowned at him. "But, seeing a drunken Dawn? I'd be more than glad to." He gave me a mischievous smile and I knew that there was no turning back from this now.

"Cool. You have to promise not to hurt me, though. I'm only doing this for you, so you'd look like a real asshole if I ended up dead." I pointed my finger at him, accusingly. "My tombstone will literally say, 'She was a poor, innocent, sweet soul that had died while trying to help a psychopathic murderer out of the kindness of her own heart' on it. Like actually."

"What about a chase?"

"No."

"Butterflies?"

"No butterflies."

"Hide and seek?"

"Nothing."

"Hm."

"Do we have a deal?" I asked.

He raised his brows, thinking hard about my question. "You got yourself a deal with the devil, Dawn Turner."

Maybe it was a dumb idea to trust a fallen angel.

Actually, scratch that. It's definitely a dumb idea. But for some reason, I felt like maybe; at least for one day, I could trust him.