Despite the torture and humiliation I was put through I held on to the thin strand of sanity that pulled so tightly in my mind I was sure it would snap. I spent my nights dreaming of a home, the things I would give for a normal life once again, though I had no illusions of freedom. I knew I would be trapped here forever and so when my monster left me alone chained to the wall of his bloodied playroom I saw an opportunity that I may never have gotten again and I took it. My right hand, its bones brutally broken and splintered, slipped from the shackle with a bit of painful effort and I didn't hesitate to snatch one of the gleaming blades from the table placed just close enough to reach. I knew I couldn't fight back but at least I could escape from this hell. I took several deep breaths for courage before plunging the blade through my heart and twisting it mercilessly. I bit back my screams, blood pooling in my mouth and trickling from my lips, not wanting to give my captor the chance to save me. I wrenched out the knife and crimson gushed from the hole in my chest like a waterfall. A few seconds passed before a numbing chill began to creep into my fingers and toes. My legs trembled violently as I leaned forward to better allow every drop to spill to the floor and my heart pounded wildly in vain, only pumping more blood onto the concrete below. Spots swam in my vision as the cold overtook my limbs and I collapsed, dangling from my chains. My eyes sank shut as my heartbeat became as faint as a whisper and I could hear the iron door swing open as I took my final breath before the dark unknown of death wrapped me in its welcoming shroud.
"Is anyone back here?" A male voice calls from the side of the house and I pause with my pen still to the paper. I glance over with a frown just as a young man steps around the side of the building, I wasn't expecting them to arrive until tomorrow, but it quickly melts away as I look him over. It's hard to make out any details from this distance but it's clear that he is very handsome, not surprising for a demon. He's dressed in jeans, a sky blue shirt with a white skull on the front and an oversized orange sweater draped over top. His hair is a mess of black curls that cascade down to his shoulders and a wide smile lights up his face.
"Hey! Sorry to bug you, I'm looking for.." He trails off as he moves closer but I barely notice as my gaze rakes over him before my eyes rest on his, a deep blue like the ocean at dusk.
"Are.. are you crying?" He asks suddenly, looking stunned. I bring my hand, wrapped in soft white cloth trimmed with lace, to my cheek before looking down at the damp splotches on the fabric.
"Hold on." He steps forward before I have a chance to reply and I watch curiously as he reaches into his sweater pocket, closing his eyes for a moment as if he's concentrating on something, before pulling out a white handkerchief and offering it to me. I stare down at it for a moment before looking back up at him, giggles bubbling up from my throat.
"D..did I do something funny?" He asks, dumbstruck, as I close my journal, take the piece of cloth and wipe the tears of sadness and laughter from my eyes.
"Do you always carry around a handkerchief?" I ask, my eyes glittering in amusement.
"Ahh no, not exactly." He replies sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck and glancing away.
"A magician then? What else can you pull from your pockets I wonder?" I grin as I rise to my feet and brush the wrinkles from my dress, the white lace trim of my petticoat reaching just to my knees. "You'll have to put on a show for me sometime. For now, you said you were looking for someone?" I offer, steering the conversation back on course as he seems at a loss for words.
"You're _________ Anderson." He states, still looking a bit flustered.
"And how would you know that?" I ask with genuine curiosity, the grin never leaving my lips.
"Mr. Anderson mentioned that you were a bit eccentric in his letter. N.. not that that's a bad thing." He stutters, quickly correcting himself, but my smile widens.
"Did he? How sweet of him. Did he say anything else about me?" I intertwine my fingers behind my back and cock my head to side, a picture of innocence.
"Well of course, he always talked about you when he wrote but he did mention that he was worried about you in his last letter." He replies, seeming to finally relax in my presence.
"Did he say why?" I ask, the confusion in my tone coming out as believable as I had hoped.
"No." He answers simply, his brows knitting together in confusion as though he's just realized how odd that is.
"Well I don't think I'm in any danger so I'm sure it's nothing to worry about. More importantly, it's no fair that you know my name and I don't know yours so if I had to guess.." I trail off and walk a slow circle around the demon in front of me as he eyes me curiously before stopping before him and clapping my hands excitedly.
"You're Matthew, right?" I ask with a bright smile that he returns.
"And how would you know that?" He asks, teasing me with my own words.
"My father said I'd like you." I giggle at the small blush that tints his cheeks at my response before glancing around the empty yard. "But where are your brothers? I was expecting five of you." His eyes widen at my words and he glances back towards where he came.
"They're waiting up front I totally forgot! They're gonna be so annoyed, come on!" He grabs my arm and I allow him to pull me along behind him as we round the side of the house to the front yard. The four other men are standing by the front door waiting, albeit impatiently with tapping feet and crossed arms. The first to spot us is a gruffer looking man dressed in a torn up green tank top, green and white vest, and tan cargo pants with a thick metal band clasped around his wrist and silver dog tags shining against his throat. His auburn hair is a spiky mess on the top of his head and his emerald eyes are piercing as they bore into my new friend.
"Where the fuck have you been?" He snaps, drawing the others attention and a small frown from me.
"He found me didn't he? You should be saying thank you." I shoot back, crossing my arms to match his, and he finally seems to realize I'm here as he turns his annoyed gaze to me.
"And who are you?" He growls, his irritation mounting. I see one of the others step forward to cut in but I raise my hand to them without glancing over and smile sweetly at the demon in front of me, giving him a small curtsy as I begin my introduction.
"_________ Anderson, daughter of William Anderson and owner of this estate but shouldn't you know who you're visiting before you come calling?" My teasing quip only annoys him more as his hands tighten into fists. One of his brothers pulls him back and quickly takes his place but the apologetic smile on his face doesn't distract me from the look of intrigue and confusion buried in the endless depths of his violet blue eyes.
"Forgive my brother Sam, Miss Anderson, he has a bit of a temper. I'm Damien, it's nice to finally meet you." His hair is a brilliant shade of orange that momentarily grasps my attention and I can't help but admire his casual yet formal looking attire, white slacks and a red button up under a tan jacket, but I can't seem to break my gaze from his as I try to glean the reason for the mysterious look in his eye.
"Have I done something strange?" I ask and surprise flickers in his eyes for a moment.
"N..no, why do you ask?"
"It's nothing." I reply with a shake of my head, deciding I must simply be imagining things, and turn my attention to one of the boys I haven't been introduced yet. Dressed formally in black slacks and a grey blazer trimmed in red over a white shirt and red tie with his ebony hair swept back, wispy bangs curling behind his left ear, he watches Damien carefully over his black rimmed glasses before turning to me and offering his hand.
"James, Miss. It's a pleasure." The oldest, well educated and born to lead. I briefly wonder if he already knows he's next in line to run Anderson Toys or if the letter patiently sitting on the desk in my father's study will tell him. I consider telling him now to see his look of surprise as I reach out and shake his hand but before I have the chance James is pushed aside and a new face comes into view. His amethyst eye glitters with amusement, strands of pinkish copper hair obscuring the other, as he catches my hand before it falls to my side and graces the gloved skin with a kiss.
"Call me Erik. You're quite outspoken, beautiful, a rare quality for most women." He smiles, his words undoubtedly ment as a compliment but..
"Uncommon among your kind I'm sure." The jab is light but I mentally slap myself for it. "Shall we?" I ask as I open the door and usher them into the grand foyer. I turn my back on them for a moment to slip off my cardigan, shivering slightly as my arms and shoulders are exposed to the brisk air, and am delighted to find Matthew entranced by the various toys that line the shelves of the room as I turn back around.
"How much do you know about our kind?" James inquires as I make my way towards Matthew and examine the small bear he's taken down from a shelf.
"You're the first demons I've met so I'll admit not much."
"Hopefully we'll leave a good impression then." Matthew smiles at me as he sets the stuffed bear back in its place and I can't help but smile back.
Assuring Matthew that he will have plenty of time to look around at the toys the fill the house I lead them to the office and wait for them to seat themselves before glancing down at the time.
"The letter on the desk is from my father and I know it's short notice but his funeral is the day after tomorrow, I know he would want you to be there. I'm sorry but I have an appointment that I need to attend, can I trust you boys alone for an hour?"
"You'd leave us unattended in your home, Miss? Your father must have spoke of us often." James asks though he doesn't seem surprised.
"Yes, he spoke highly of you." I reply simply and excuse myself.
I park in front of the small building with a sigh, relieved that this will be my last visit here yet still dreading it. I step inside and the receptionist greets me with a worried smile.
"Ms. Anderson, you're running a bit late today is everything alright?"
"I was expecting visitors tomorrow and they showed up a day early is all, is Mrs. Lariviere ready for me?"
"Yes, go on in." She replies and I step through the door beside her desk and softly shut it behind me. I look up at Mrs. Lariviere as I make my way to the chair in front of her, a kind woman in her early thirties with chocolate hair pulled up in a loose bun and hazel eyes currently brimming with concern.
"Ms. Anderson, I was worried you weren't going to make it. Before we start, I know you said this would be your last session but I truly think you should reconsider. In my professional opinion we still have a lot to work through and we haven't made any progress in quite some time."
"With my fathers passing I'm no longer required by the state to take these sessions, no longer someones ward but under my own care. We haven't made any progress because there isn't any to make. As I've assured you many times, I'm fine." We've argued this point many times and we both refuse to concede, it's clear this time will be no different as she sighs with a shake of her head.
"Very well. How are you feeling today Ms. Anderson?" She asks, settling back into her seat for another fruitless hour long talk.
"Wonderful, as always. Friends of my father have come to visit, interesting.. men."
"Interesting how?" She asks, my pause catching her attention, scratching her pen against her notepad.
'They're demons.' "What's not interesting about a group of handsome young men." I shrug with a smile and when she realizes that's all I have to say she moves on to a new question.
"You mentioned last visit your father bought you a journal to write in, have you started writing yet?" I nod and she turns her full attention to me as she asks her next question. "About your life before the orphanage?"
'The night I killed myself? I bet you'd love to read that.' "And what would I write? We both know I don't remember anything." I frown at her, feigning annoyance that she would even ask.
"Sorry I know it's a touchy subject but you might still get those memories back."
'I don't want them.' "Even if I do this is my life now."
"Aren't you curious about your scar?"
"I used to be, now I just consider it a miracle." I reply, instinctively placing my hand against my chest
"A miracle?" She inquires, scratching away on her paper, and I realize I've been surprisingly loose lipped this visit.
"The doctors said I should be dead, right? I would call that a miracle." I reply and she looks a bit disappointed by my simple answer.
"Of course. Have the nightmares started again? I was worried that your fathers death may bring back some older traumas."
'Started? They never stopped.' "No I can't say I've had any nightmares."
"And you haven't.. seen anything strange."
'Storm clouds filled my bedroom as I mourned my fathers passing, does that count?' "Strange? No I can't say that I have."