Bedeviled

Chapter 38

Azerynir stepped away from me and walked over to the boy crouching to run his fingers through his bloodied neck. He turned and began drawing an odd-looking, intricate sigil on the stone floor. Once he was finished he dipped his fingering in more blood and walked to me, careful to avoid the wet drawing.

I watched him wide-eyed as he placed two fingers at the base of my neck, just between my collarbones, and began drawing something. The warmth of the liquid made my stomach turn and I fought the urge to gag as he finished.

He then took my hand and carefully led me to the blood supply. I fought against his strength as he forced my hand down and into the dead human's neck. He then brought my fingers to his chest and drew the same symbol using my hand and fingers.

I was led back to the center of the platform and was seated down on my knees. Azerynir knelt behind me, straddling me with each knee, and wrapped his arms around my body. I shook with terror now, not knowing what he would do to me next.

The chanting continued for some time before I began hearing the screams from the human girls behind me. I jumped and attempted to turn to look but Azerynir held me tighter, blocking my view with his large figure.

This went on for what seemed like thirty minutes or so as my cheeks were wetted with tears and I attempted to curl down into his arms to block the noise. Eventually, he released an arm and took something from his father.

He kept it hidden by his side, not wanting me to see. His arm squeezed me in with extreme force, cutting off my breath for a few seconds before he released me. His hand brushed my hair out of my face and to my back.

He gathered it in his one hand gripped at the back of my skull. I knew now what was next. This was it. The end. He was going to kill me now. The object he had taken from his father was the dagger that would slice me open until I bled out.

My head was gently pulled back and I squeezed my eyes shut, finishing the movement for him so he wouldn't feel me fighting. I was leaning forward, forced to use my thighs and abs to keep my weight from pulling on my hair.

My head was pulled at an angle so I couldn't see below me but I felt the cold, sharp blade rest on my skin. I felt lips press against my neck and then the slice through me.

The pain didn't register at first but I felt the blade touch where it shouldn't. The warm coppery taste filled my mouth before I felt it. It grew thicker and thicker until I began to choke. That was when it hit me.

Once the first attempted cough shuddered through my body, my senses were alerted by the imminent danger. It wasn't as bad as I thought, it was like my brain was overloaded with the terror of dying and disregarded the pain. I could feel it and I knew it was there, but I wasn't focused on it.

Arms wrapped around me and I collapsed into them, choking relentlessly to cough up the painful liquid that was preventing me from taking a breath. The warm-toned hues from the fires around me blurred and pounded into my eyes, even though the room was fairly dark, the light was too much for me to handle.

It was a whole lot of everything then a whole lot of nothing. Everything went quiet. The pain, the fear, every thought running through my head was gone. It was like being an infant experiencing the world for the first time. No sense of good and evil, no sense of danger and safety, just experiencing.

I couldn't feel my body, I couldn't even feel that I was in my body. I saw the dead boy, the fire around me, the black cloth, the bloody sigil, the stone walls. My eyes settled on the hellhound that sat at the entrance.

Once we made eye contact I noticed his ears flatten out and head hunch over. He curled downward until his stomach was on the floor and curled his legs into himself. It was like he felt bad for whatever he was seeing. He looked at me helplessly like a mother who didn't know how to help her crying child.

That was the last thing I remember seeing before my world went dark. I felt nothing but visionless dreams beyond that. Hunger, anger, rage, the burning need to torment. I never saw anything, just felt it all.

I felt greed and lust, darkness and vengeance. I wanted to destroy and rip apart anything and everything including myself. I felt I would have torn the skin off my body just to ease it if I could.

I suppose this is what death feels like? The want and need to do something without any ability to. Like you are floating in a paralysis of good and evil, ripping every nerve of your body into confusion until you break.

It was like sleeping without being asleep. Like those long nights when you think you didn't sleep at all but time passes too quickly for you not to have. Like the moment you realize you are dreaming but things still occur without your control.

It was so intense and hot but freezing and paralyzing at the same time. Like my skin was melting off but cracking like a sheet of ice off of my bones. Maybe that is where the frustration came from. Maybe it came from the immense and uncontrollable physical sensations that took over me.

Maybe my mind broke from the pressure and gave in to the darkness that is held within all of us. Maybe the good really can't outweigh the evil. Maybe we are all destined to be bad and use the light as a way to shield and gaslight ourselves into believing it will all be okay.

Once I let go of holding onto the good, everything went dark. The grief went away, the sorrow and guilt, and tension released. I was free. A gentle and pleasant ease settled over my mind and body and I was content with the state I was in.

I no longer felt the urge to hurt or cause chaos. I no longer wanted to be hostile to the world around me and destroy anything I could get my hands on. I was content with myself. Content with just existing in the state I was in. Content in the presence which I perceived.

Then I opened my eyes.