Stuck With The Devil

Why Does It Have To Be You?

Just for a second, she was thunderstruck not knowing what to do anymore as she was too afraid to continue screaming or turn her neck to the other side to see what was behind her.

Her hand sluggishly walked up to her neck and she felt her hand meet her bare neck. The load that was on her seemed to have reduced as the hot breath that covered her gradually evaporated. Her palm was covered with blood that made her gasp.

The blood surged down her white new garment as it began to trickle down her shoulder. She felt as though the blood was pumping out of her body without any restriction.

What just happened? She mindfully asked, dazed. Her eyes were in search of anything that might seem to be around but even though the candlelight was dim, she could see that there was no one in the corridor except her.

She tried to think it was just a dream but the sudden pain that kept rippling through that sensitive place on her neck was real, no doubt.

She felt as though a human was at least here and had disappeared. Because how could that even be possible if no one was here? What was that or who was that?!

How could an ordinary bite lead her to the amount of blood that was still oozing out from the cut? She was wildly bleeding.

She kept on groaning as she tried to walk into her chamber to use anything that could stop her from bleeding. She knew that the amount of which she was bleeding was too much and that she might just pass out any moment from now. And if she wanted to pass out, she dared not do that in the front of Elvis's chamber. She already disliked how he handles cases.

Unfortunately, a creaking sound emitted from his door and she consciously stared at him. Quite anxious about how he would react to it.

"What are you doing here alone?" He asked but his eyes widened slowly as he stared at her blood-drenched garment. The blood was tickling down to her waist giving out a deadly appearance as if the person who was wearing the gown had been murdered or deprived of a head. "What happened...are you okay? Lady Maxwell?"

'Lady Maxwell?' Isadora was a bit surprised, even though it wasn't the first time he was calling her by the title, she felt as though it was strange hearing it from him after hearing him call her Isadora many dozens of a time.

She stared at herself, just aware that she was lying on the cold floor, "I...blood. I felt something heavy on my shoulder bit my neck and then...this..." She struggled to explain, still thinking if it truly happened.

"You need to be treated, it looks severe," Elvis cut her short as he bent down to meet her gaze.

Isadora felt him stare at her blood with an unexplainable look that if she was in her right sense she might have believed was a look of hunger. She wasn't seeing well, she couldn't have seen the look on his face. Her eyes were heavy and she felt as though what she had wanted to avoid was what was coming. She was about to faint.

"Are you alright?"

"I...I am not..."

"She is not, is she?" Isadora heard a voice coming out from the corridor. She could recognise the voice even from hell. That voice that sounded as if it had been deep-frozen for a donkey years before it was released.

The man she was supposed to be married to walked into their midst silently.

Isadora didn't care to look as she felt no need to. Especially when her eyelids were fluttering cutely as if they were about to close up in a nanosecond.

"She...she is short of blood, my Lord." She heard Elvis say as she felt that the man was closer to her. Her gaze was painstakingly fixed on the ceilings, she didn't know why she felt as though something interesting was above the walls she would love to see before she dies. A few seconds more, her eyes fluttered close.

Within another second, fear gripped her as she felt another load on her body, the difference was that the load wasn't pinning her down, it was opposing the gravity as she felt large cold arms grab her into his hold.

Her eyes fluttered close but her mind was still open. She knew by now that she was held by that cold man but she found it hard to stop imagining it was Oswald. She felt peaceful amidst the pain. She just needed to imagine that Oswald was with her and he was the one holding her in his arms as they've always imagined about their wedding night.

Her mind which was widely clear and alive seemed to be successfully dying. She felt empty as though total darkness from the brim of hell had descended over her and had manipulated her so that she couldn't even think. But still, she could feel her body covered by cold skin. The skin was so similar to that of the person who had descended on her the other time.

Maybe she was going to give up the ghost, it was hard to decide. But she knew it would never be if she found out that Oswald was dead or worse if her father was responsible.

"Why does it have to be you?"

Those words were the last thing she heard before total darkness covered her in its embrace protecting her from the light that might want to trickingly submit itself.