Beneath The Surface

Pinch Point 29 - Is this the finale?

Normal text
Thinking
Onomatopoeia

Astaroth's POV
As Astaroth wandered through the dimly lit streets, the alcohol started to take effect. She was getting hiccups, unable to even walk in a straight line. The droning raspy voice in her head was only music for her drowsiness. While bleary-eyed and top-heavy, Astaroth somehow managed to stumble her way back to the academy. Oddly enough, she never once thought of returning back to her residence. As for the reason... she didn't know. And she didn't want to know. She merely focused on putting one foot in front of the other. One step at a time. All the way until she reached before a familiar door. As if she had countless practice, she awkwardly fumbled for a key card. Tapping the thing to the lock, the door easily pushed open. Just as she thought, the room was dark. Not a single light could be seen. Except for a pair of blood-red eyes hovering in the corner. Her favourite colour of eyes.

"Took you long enough to come back," a melodious voice sounded.

It was soft and rather pleasant to hear. The voice echoed in her mind, helping to cover the annoying raspy voice that's been nagging at her non-stop, as well as the intolerable screeches from a couple she really hated a lot. Compared to those three, this voice was like that of a siren.

Without a word, she lumbered over to a spare bed and flopped down face-first.

"What's wrong???"

"Hmmm?" she slurred, not getting the question.

Why was this voice asking about her? How strange... No one ever asked about her. They simply don't care. They don't care that she's hurt.

Astaroth felt the side of her bed sinking down. The sirenlike presence was right beside her now, bringing along a musky scent of roses. Blood-red roses. It smelled good. Her leaden body was gently flipped over.

"Didn't know you prefer dressing like this. You don't strike me as someone who likes to wear such... revealing clothes."

"Hmph!" she snorted unhappily, "who says I like this? If it weren't for that creep, I wouldn't have worn—No, scratch that! I would have broken his fingers already!"

How dare those bastards look at her like this! How dare they touch this body! Why did she have to suit their preference again? Why can't she just pluck their tiny little heads out of their corpses?!

There was a pause before a chuckle sounded, "You don't like him?"

"Why would I like a pig?" she answered the question with another, "I'm not insane. And I'm not blind either. Besides, I don't like men..."

They're all so... hateful... Disgusting... Makes me want to vomit...

"Then why go drinking with them?"

The soft voice repeatedly tried to coax out every piece of information from her, but Astaroth was too dead tired to care. Besides, why would the siren hurt her?

"I dunno... It's not fun anyway..."

"You sure you don't know?" the voice teased, while gently threading her arms out through her coat sleeves.

Now that the jacket was gone, she started shivering. It was cold. So unbearable. Can someone just turn on the heater?

As if right on cue, a soft blanket was draped on top of her, bundling her up into a steamed dumpling. It was toasty inside the dumpling. Nice and warm. Astaroth liked it a lot. She snuggled into the blanket, sighing blissfully. Whenever this siren talked, the other annoying voices would disappear. So peaceful. The headaches were also gone. She liked the siren a lot too.

"Don't drink like this next time. It's not good for you."

That was the last thing she heard before everything went dark in her mind.