Curse

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Saira's POV

Max comes at me, strong and quick as a bull. But, since I'm not drunk, I'm faster.

I leap onto the bar counter, avoiding Max's approach. He barrels past me, knocking into tables. He topples to the floor, which causes a laugh to arise within me.

Alcohol, as far as I know, has never affected me. It simply goes through my system and does nothing. I still feel the burn of it, the tingle in my hands and feet, but nothing more than that. Maybe it's because of my high metabolism. Probably because I'm special that way.

Most likely, it's a curse from Satan, so that way I have no way to forget.

Max gets up, snorting in outrage at missing his prey. I crouch, watching his every move. Once I realized I was immune to getting drunk (after drinking my foster parents' entire collection of alcoholic beverages) I studied up on the effects of drunkenness. Now, I tick them off the list in my mind as I watch Max.

Clumsiness. Max definitely has that, which is demonstrated as he tries to come near, stumbles over his own feet, and falls to the floor.

Aggressiveness or changes in behavior. Yes and yes. Max running at me was a sign of that.

Faulty coordination. You bet. Max reaches for a chair to hoist himself up, but misses by about four feet. He tries crawling towards it, but his legs don't seem to work.

All check. Except for slurred speech, but Max hasn't talked yet. I don't know if he can while drunk. My foster dad can't do anything more than groan and moan when drunk.

I relax my crouched stance, instead leaning backwards so I can sit. Max peers up at me, his pupils dilated and eyes misty. I stare down at him, and ask softly, "Max, do you know who I am?"

Max nods, and slurs, "Of course. You're Saira Collings. You murdered your family." Anger and guilt pierce my chest, just like they had when Lily interrogated me in my truck. Back then, though, I was dealing with a spirit that I could control with a little bit of concentration. Here, I am dealing with a drunk boy that is unfortunately alive and not under my control.

Max starts giggling, and he laughs, "I saw you kill them, Saira. In my dreams. I saw you shoot Justin. I saw you push Sam. I saw you give Ashly hemlock. If you think Lily's death was anything, you should think of theirs!"

The boy drops down into giggles, leaving me shocked. My gaze searches the bar, but no spirits appear. Anger alights within me, a fiery thing like a mini demon. It drives my body, makes me hop off the counter and stalk towards Max, who continues to giggle.

Red fiery light pours from my eyes, lighting the space better than my phone's flashlight. I stare down at Max, not believing that this person could kill his girlfriend.

My grip is steel when I grab Max's chin and jerk his face towards mine. My knees pin his arms, and his legs are practically useless. It's an intimate position, but I don't care about that. My anger is driving me, making me into the monster everyone thinks I am.

"What happened to Lily? Why did you kill her?" I hiss at him, surprisingly not slipping into one of the many languages I know, like I always do when I'm angry and talking. It drives my adoptive mom nuts.

Max grins lopsidedly up at me, and I hiss into his face. "Why. Did. You. Kill. Lily?" I ask, enunciating every single word. Max's grin falls, and his eyes are dark. Dark like the night sky, dark like shadows, dark like demons.

"She was an idiot," he murmurs. His voice is surprisingly level and calm, and I feel the energy the alcohol gave him leave his body. His mouth keeps moving, though, which is what I need.

"We had sex. That was it. It was wonderful," he says, his voice turning dreamy. I resist the urge to smack him, and simply ask, "And what happened next?" Max's face hardens, and he growls, "She got pregnant. I was wearing a condom, and she got pregnant. Doesn't that spell out cheating?

"Well, when I confronted her, she said that she never had sex with anyone but me. How does that work, then? If I had been wearing a condom, protected, and she got pregnant, how does it work?" Max's voice turns brittle, sharp with anger and annoyance.

I growl, "Finish the damn story, Max Sello." He peers up at me, and says, "I told her she should get rid of it. She resisted me. She wanted to keep the little fiend. We argued. I grabbed her throat, and didn't let go until she stopped thrashing. I made sure the demon inside of her never saw the light of day."

I should say that horror fills me, but it doesn't. I have heard of and seen even more gruesome deaths. I have seen someone pierced on the horns of a bull, on the tines of a tractor, on the branches of a tree. I knew death, knew it down to my bones. Strangling someone wasn't so horrible in my book.

"I buried her in Jerry Land. Under a slab of stone. No one knew. No one found her body. It was only when her parents committed suicide from grief that I realized that what I did was wrong. But, there was no redoing it.

"Then, you caught my eye. Beautiful, deadly Saira Collings. She killed her family. Two murderers. What a perfect pair!" Max's laughter echoes throughout the silent bar, and it grates against my ears.

The smack echoes through the building. Max's head hits the floor, red blooming across his cheek from the back of my hand. Most of my hand hit the nerve in his jaw, which causes the brain to short-circuit. He isn't dead, unfortunately, just knocked out.

I rise to my feet, and unhook the necklace from around my neck. Dangling like a charm on the end of the chain is a small recorder. I press the button, and the recording ends.

That was my plan. To record his confession. To get him drunk enough so his walls fell. And besides, demons were excellent helpers at getting people to confess. They were key to influencing minds and thoughts.

I look up, and grin. The crowd of demons grin back, their needle teeth flashing like sabers in the moon and flashlight. I hold up the recorder, and the demons hiss their snaky laughter.

"Thank you for your help, my friends. You are dismissed until I call upon you next," I say, hooking the recorder around my neck again. The demons all bow their heads and disappear, going back to Hell.

I look down at Max, and try to come up with a way to get the bigger person to my truck, then to a police station. 

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