L'ANGE DÉCHU- MANXBOY

CHAPTER THIRTY- LIFE AND DEATH +

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ANGEL DECKER

For the next hour and a half I sat still and stared straight ahead while absolutely nothing went through my mind. Not a single thought. In a way it was blissful. To not think or feel a thing either physically or mentally. I often wondered what it would be like to not have the ability to feel anything at all. Compared to what I've been through and how much my emotions have been messed with and altered, to not be able to feel seems like a sample of what I'd imagine heaven would be like. I came to the conclusion that having emotions that I have no control over, sucks.

I soon realized that I progressively began to loathe the idea of having emotions all together. They're were only a burden. I couldn't help but fantasize about how I'd handle my current predicament if I didn't possess feelings of any sort. I wanted to look upon the face of death and not flinch. In this case, I am not speaking of literal demise. I'm referring to Zhayne, who in my world, is death himself. He is a multitude of things, but death is a title that fit him exceptionally well.

A man who's claimed the lives of many and practically has the earth in the palm of his hand. I hated to admit it, but I have long ago accepted that he is formidable. His power and authority is far beyond something that I could even think of achieving. I have no place in this world of his, but he seems to think otherwise. I didn't dare speak against his word despite my hatred for him growing by the second.

I don't believe I was made to exist in this environment. At a point in time I tried convincing myself that I could adjust, but something always comes up to prove me wrong. There were so many things getting in the way of me possibly losing my mind and ending up exactly like everyone else in this underworld. Me losing my sanity was the only way I could grow accustomed to being around this man, but it doesn't sit right with me. I keep clinging onto the little bit of humanity in me that I have left.

I sometimes ask myself, wouldn't it be better if you just stop giving a fuck? Partially, I had to agree. It would be and I knew it. But there was still a small part of my sanity lingering, hanging by a cheap thread. It kept me from allowing myself to accept the endless void that is now my reality. I haven't fully accepted my fate yet because I still had something that my heart is heavily attached to. My soul. A part of my soul is living and breathing, and it's the very last thing that I have since I lost everything else. If I didn't have it, I'd be nothing. There would be nothing.

"You're trembling as always." Zhayne noted, tracing his bottom lip with his fingers as his eyes were trained on the diamond ring. Since arriving he'd hardly cared to take his focus off of the pretentious piece of jewelry. It was impossible to miss the dark look glimmering in his wicked pearls as they locked with the very object that would seal our fates together as one. "Not from fear though, this time." He observes, still looking at the beautiful and cursed ring. "Not now, at least." Zhayne's sick statement caused my feet to waver beneath me from alarm.

"What do you mean not now?" I hesitated to ask him, not sure if I wanted to hear his reply or not. His poor choice of words and his bluntness to go along with it is what often made my body react negatively, whether I feel queasy or perhaps like I'm going to pass out or something. I've noticed that nearly everything Zhayne did, it had a terrible effect on me physically, not just mentally.

"You have a bad habit of asking me stupid questions." The mass murderer mumbled, moving my hand away from his grasp. "There's an emotion or emotions that you have yet to act on." He told me, only managing to puzzle me further. He sensed this and a look of annoyance crossed his features.

"What are you, Angel?" Zhayne asked, watching me intensely through my mirror as he sat down on my bed, fingers intertwined. I felt inferior just by being the sole focus of his attention, and even though that was nothing new, I still had the same reaction. I looked away from him and glanced down toward the floor, taking in the pitiful image of my bruised up feet.