NaNoWriMo - November 2014

Two days worth of writing = one daily total

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I looked at my reflection in the mirror. Quinn had been right. I wouldn’t survive a third bind. We had just completed the second bind and already I could feel my energy drain. More than just my energy, I could feel my life force pouring out of me as if I was a cracked glass. I ran a bony finger along my cheekbones. Not too long ago, I had had full cheeks. Now, they were sunken. My eyes were dark and swollen.

With a sigh I leaned down, effectively cutting off my mirror-staring contest. The cool water that I splashed on my face helped calm me. I was so afraid. After wiping off my face I took a deep breath and left the bathroom, joining Quinn in the kitchen.

He gave me the barest glance before he returned his attention to whatever it was he was cooking. I took a seat at the table and lay my head on the table. “You were right. I’m sorry.” I whispered. What was happening to me? I couldn’t even recognize the smell of what he was cooking.

“Don’t be sorry. You’re merely human, after all.” his words were cold and cut deep.

“Gee, way to be a friend. Thanks for the moral support.” I muttered, my voice muffled by the table.

“Its been three years, Heather. How can you STILL think I will react like your regular human friends?” he asked, placing the finished product on a plate. “On top of it all, I am not your friend, I am your slave. You force me to be here by your side.” he took a seat beside me and poked me in the ribs, effectively causing me to lift my head and glare at him.

He deposited a plate with three small, yet delicious looking pancakes, covered in syrup which immediately got my mouth salivating. “I know you’re not my friend. A friend would stay at my side without being forced to do so.” I took a first bite, relishing in the sweet, gooey texture and taste. “A friend wouldn’t drain me of my life.”

“Are you blaming me for what is happening to you?” He asked looking surprised. “You are blaming a -demon- that -you- have -bound- to you for your pitiful state?” the surprise was gone, replaced by **hilarosity**.

I stabbed the fork into the table in anger. “Yes, I’m blaming you! You challenged me to bind you three times! You refused to tell me what would happen!”

“Heather. Once again. I. Am. A. Demon.” He stood up, pulled my fork from the table and placed it back in my hand. “What did you expect? A cuddly bunny friend? Ha!” his head shot backwards as he guffawed sarcastically. “You are so hilarious.” He returned serious and passed behind me, leaning down to whisper in my ear. “Now eat before you pass out.”

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    Sometimes masters die. When they die, you remain bound to them for the duration of the pact they made. This is the closest a demon can get to freedom. And freedom is what I had been granted tonight.

    “How did you know that they would kill one another?” the silver-haired girl asked as she walked beside me. She walked with confidence and assurance; grace and beauty. But that was expected from this type of demon.

    “You knew your master sent you to kill my master. I knew my master would make me kill yours on his dying breath.” I shrugged. Was it so hard to comprehend?