Lovers & Devils [BxB]

Hate me

Day six.
I jolted in and out sleep, each time waking under an off-white canvas as though the retaliation of a God of Paint, until I spiralled my tired eyes in a jar of turbid water. I put my interlocked hands under the base of my head. Mammon arrived home late, and left early this morning, I felt his presence wane. I had some sanity to myself, but the anxiety was there. He could be doing anything—anyone—and I had no control. Chess, and I had no rule over the middle of the board, instead eluding his moves. I groaned and slapped the back of my hand on my forehead, a breeze meeting my armpit. I needed smaller goals to achieve, but what did I want from him? The thought of a friendship, rapt talks I couldn't digest, it was too unfamiliar.
I flung my eyes to the curtains the colour of ancient parchment in uneven pleats from the bronze pole. The waiting light behind it sowed patterns on the plain fabric. I focused sedately on them, feeling my eyes spasm before the curtains whipped out, metal rings screeching on the horizontal pole. A sight of white clouds exploded inside. The blinds were rolled up. I'm getting my powers back! Slow, but it was better than nothing. I thumbed the black markings on my wrists, once gold. A manic eyeball between what looked like lips. I scoffed at the way they appeared, tattoos—Mammon's tattoos. I was a throne, and my powers were in my eyes. Ironic, because I never saw this coming.
A quiet huff, and I sat up against the duvet that weighed me down. I scooted to the windowsill above the radiator, the cold invigorating on my forearms. Siblings of balding downy trees that looked nothing alike noticed me, caged by low spiked steel fences and bushes. A Nissan, mangy blue, galloped over the estate road speed bumps through the gaps of the branches. I could see the dark green gates of the petrol station when my head veered. It was different. It was...weird. I always woke up to the splendour of Heaven, and now, trees smiled crookedly at me.
I sighed, shaking off the vexing self-pity. I was going to get out of bed, but something caught my attention—someone. I pushed myself over the sill, home to dust particles. A man I was certain wasn't there before stood at the stone edging of the dirt bed.
Was that black hair?
The trees provided little shelter, but somehow his face was completely shadowed. He was wearing a sunless burgundy suit and a matching trench coat. Goosebumps went off like land mines on my skin. Who in God's name was this? If he lived in this block, he would have come inside already.
In a trice, the man started striding to the driveway opening. I had the strangest feeling in my core, a niggling suspicion. I ripped off the wave-quilted duvet like a tornado round my waist and padded purposefully on the platinum grey carpet. Something just wasn't right. I thieved the woolly half-zip from the door and donned it. What if he's here for Mammon? I tunnelled fingers through my messy hair, feet slapping on the corridor tiles. I glimpsed the puerile sign on his door before swerving towards the peanut door.
I needed to find out.
I didn't have his house keys, so I turned the lock mechanism with my eyes. I knotted the strings of my loose sweatpants and jogged out of the cream-yellow complex. Behind me, the tall security door sealed with a rubber sound. It was final. I hurried past the birch trees and stationary cars, squeaks of my chunky shoes on the tarmac my war cry. The pavement dipping to let cars up interrupted me. I looked left. No one. I looked right. There he was. I skulked after him, face set in determination, hands in my pockets. I couldn't make it obvious, not when I didn't know him—what if he was just a passerby? I cringed. God, I'd be so embarrassed.
The man got closer and closer to the bustling road, with me right on his heels. I picked up the pace, hoping to strike up some awkward conversation, anything. I reached out to grab his shoulder, but a blurred motorcycle bolting up the lane with a cutting gust distracted me, and he was gone. I jerked back in horror, the sound making my ears ring. My mouth fell open. Gone. Just like that. I put hands on my hips as I looked around on the path. He couldn't be hiding behind the petrol price display, or the black-yellow signs. I cursed under my breath. Just my damn luck.
Then...something flapped in my peripheral. Burgundy fabric flagged above the low stone wall, as if a call for freedom, and then it was yanked down. I widened my eyes. Before I could register, my legs booked it across the road. An SUV braked hard, bobbing on tyres from the impact. They honked lengthily, and all I could do was gesture an apology. I dug my fingers in a top crevice, creating abrading friction between my gripping palm. I jumped up, then down and ducked under the rogue branches, swatting wildly. Sure enough, he was there—walking with that galling swagger.
The ground underneath was repulsive. A sea of orange leaves, English ivy trampled and a sick mix with the mud. Petrichor was dank in the cold air. Squelch. It felt like quicksand, and it splattered my poor white shoes, the laces browning. I chased after the man. I was running whereas he pottered, and I still couldn't catch up! This was every shade of askew—he could be leading me to my demise for all I knew!
Long exposed roots hit against my toe cap, but I soldiered on. I should have turned back. It was nonsensical to follow someone you didn't know. But, just what was he? I was momentarily thrown off by expansive lanky straw preceeding, atilt reeds and rushes guarding what I assumed was a swamp. Dammit!