The Cost of Immortal Love [H.S A.U]

T W O

The sun coming through the windows heats up the confines of my sweater, I can't avoid waking up. My shirt soaked from the night sweats and back aching from the horrible position I fell asleep in are the only thing that greets me. I survey the room for potential evidence that this was all a nightmare but with my bags untouched and room still unfamiliar I can't help but to cry. I'll probably dehydrate by the end of the day. It isn't until I sit up I realize I'm on the bed, I look to the left towards the spot on the ground I know for a fact I had chose as my final resting place. Confused with a headache is how I'll start the day.

I don't bother changing out of my clothes into fresh ones, what's the point? Maybe if I make myself disgusting I'll be tossed out. I hesitate to grab the door handle but a voice inside me whispers. I've been waiting too long, any longer and I'll go get you myself. I walk down the scary hall still dark from the lack of windows. I press my ear to each door but no sign of life from any of them.

A cool rush of air sweeps my hair back and I jump looking back to the room I slept in. The door slams on its own and I try to hold the tears back as I run down the stairs. I feel eyes burning a hole into me and I try to catch them turning to look over my shoulder. Not knowing why I was hoping to meet again the demon so beautiful he could convince Adam himself to eat the forbidden fruit. I think it was just out of comfort that I would know I'm not losing my mind if I actually saw something.

I hear a thud inches behind me and I slip down a few steps catching myself on the banister before my face met the floor. I just knew there was something there but yet again I'm left staring off into the emptiness.

"Good, you're up." I let out a small yelp as Jonathan's voice echos through the foyer. "Come along, you will be with me today." Today? Who will I be with tomorrow? Will there be a tomorrow? "Oh that's still up for discussion." His voice echoes down the foyer. Can he hear my thoughts. Did I say it out loud? I feel as if someone took a step down behind me.

I follow close behind the man named Jonathan, still feeling like I have 100 eyes on me. I bump into him as her opens the sliding doors to the kitchen. Silently apologizing as I step back and he shakes his head looking down at me in annoyance.

"Sit." He points to 1 of the chairs tucked into the small table in the middle of the room. "Do you know how to cook?" I nod. "Good you'll come down here every morning by 7 and make yourself breakfast. You will only have an hour before your duties begin. There will be no skipping, I rather you not faint on me, you humans are incredibly weak." Oh. Seven AM? Seems an unintentional punishment. Human? Is he not? Duties? My head swirls with too many questions.

"Yes you are very tiring, you'll bring this house out of the hell hole it fell in. Clean, garden, ... take care of our needs." My palms become sweaty. My stomach in knots. I watch as he opens the fridge then the cupboards, both having little to nothing in them. He places 2 pieces of toast and a bowl of fruit in front of me. He gives me 2 glasses, one of water and the other of orange juice. The food he's placed in front of me just appearing.

My stomach isn't even awake enough to reach for the water. "Eat." His voice rings in my ear from behind me. Frightened, I reach for a piece of strawberry. How can he move so fast? Maybe I just spaced out. My headache growing.

He takes a seat in back of me and reads the paper on a small table for one by the window. No breakfast for him, I guess the no skipping rule doesn't apply to him. For a moment I allow myself to drink him in. His scent of a warm summer's day, by the ocean and bomb fires. Like the cool summer breeze that hits you after a scorching day. His eyes in fact the same blue grey from last night, if not even lighter. I've never seen anything like them. His hair in slight waves pushed back carefully crafted no doubt by his care of wanting to look good. I never noticed the stubble last night, just the mustache. Perhaps I was too busy hoping I evaporated from existence. I linger too long as he tilts the edge of his paper down to eye me. I swallow and turn away.