A Deal With the Devil

Chapter 40

Again, I'm so sorry for the long wait, I'm trying to get back into my headspace but it's just getting harder than it's been before. Please be sure to take care of your mental health. You guys have no idea how much I love reading the comments y'all make, thank you all so much. So as always, enjoy 😃

Kassandra's POV

I could feel my eyes burn bright with power I don't understand. Surprisingly my mind was clear, sharp, and in focus. I find it curious that I don't feel anything. Not even fear or sorrow.

This man lay dying on the street, bleeding from all his open wounds - wounds that I made.

He hardly looked like the man I knew, his clothes were ripped and blood was spattered on them.

All that he put me through, all that's happened... it wasn't his fault.

His blood was seeping onto the street, making the asphalt darker than it already was - tinting it with red. I could see his chest moving with shallow breaths as well as hear his heart beating but just barely.

I could hear the angel talking, saying something, but my focus was on my dying father.

I wanted so much to hear an explanation, to be able to talk to the man that raised me. I wanted some kind of closure.

I could hear his heart struggling to keep beating, but they were few and far from each other.

I slowly walked over to him, feeling my eyes finally calm, light and colors fading from them as I moved towards him. I stand above him, looking down as his body struggles. I move him so that he lays on his back as I crouch down. His eyes were lidded, fighting to stay open, it's like he saw me and his mouth tried to form a smile but the blood coming out only made it difficult.

Tears fell out of his eyes as his breathing was labored and harsh. His heart was failing, but it was as if it was being forced to keep beating. It didn't matter, it would stop pretty soon.

His lips were moving but all that came out was gurgling as well as copious amounts of blood.

"K ... Kas- Kassie.." was all that I could make out.

Something primal moved in my chest, something almost feral -forcing itself to be acknowledged -full of anger, hatred, and sadistic pain. Exposing all of the emotions I've ever experienced and kept hidden, moving them into the light and demanding my attention.

This man hurt me.

Over.

And over.

And over again.

He didn't deserve to die peacefully or with any kind of comfort.

He didn't deserve to die with an apologetic look on his face.

He didn't deserve to say the name my mother called me.

He didn't deserve to live.

He doesn't deserve to live.

I can feel my eyes change again, filling with the power that had left me just moments prior. My teeth aching, I can feel my canines extending again, poking into the inside of my mouth. I'm forced to open it so that they don't cut the inside of my lips.

The nails on my hands shift into claws and quickly, faster that the human eye can see, I force my hand into his chest, slicing through the skin and bones - feeling around for his heart.

His eyes widen, his mouth leaking more blood than before.

I can feel the bones in his chest crack, fracture and splinter, the blood that leaks, the veins - but most of all- I can feel his heart struggling to keep beating.