Red Thread of Hate

How to Train Your Demon

You would think that someone so proud, so malicious, would not leave the matter without a word, but there it was.
So you hit Alastor over the head with a frying pan two days ago. Sounds like a great way to sign up for your own death, but apparently your husband had other plans for it. Since then, you haven't seen him at all, although you weren't sure if he was coming home at night, because you heard a noise several times in the place where his bedroom was. He probably just teleported there, but it was usually in the middle of the night when you woke up to go to the bathroom or get a drink of water. Not that you care.
The first hours after your, well, crime, you were stressed, but when you noticed that he wasn't planning to confront you, you decided to enjoy the semblance of freedom again. Even if he wanted to repay you somehow, by then you probably had a few hours, or at best a few days, of peace where you didn't have to see his face. And you had some ideas on what to do with this time.

First of all, you wanted to meet your favorite client somewhere to talk.

“How the fuck are you still alive?” he asked you with a laugh as you finished telling him what you did. You needed someone to talk to about what was going on in your house, and he volunteered. You'd say he doesn't judge, but well, he judges others, but you guess that's exactly what you needed to hear, some harsh comments like that.

“I don't know! I'm NOT complaining, trust me.” you called out, taking a sip of your coffee, “But it stresses me out a bit. On the other hand, He has disappeared for now, so there are pluses and minuses.”

“So, do you want to do something?” he raised an eyebrow and you sighed

“Listen, this is going to sound like I've completely lost my mind…” you tapped your nails on the side of your cup, searching for the words, “I want to break into his bedroom.”

“What the fuck, girl.” you rarely saw him surprised, but now he was looking at you in pure shock, “Wait, wait, wait. And for what purpose?”

“I think he has my stuff there, and I'd like to get back to work eventually.” you huffed in irritation, “Well, please, you know how it is-”

“I mean, If you are thinkin’ about me, I'm not in a hurry anyway. There's still a lot of time until the album is released, maybe you'll get a divorce till that!”

You burst out laughing, “I guess it doesn't work like that.”

“Have you tried at all?”

“Tried what? File for divorce?” you asked and he nodded, “This is Christian angelic shit, they won't accept a divorce for fuck's sake!”

“Ffffaaaair. Did they give you any reasons why you had to get married? Because you two had nothing in common except hating each other. Like, as fuck.”

You shrugged, “To be completely honest, I know they said something about it being a way to get this idiot on a better path or something, because you know, Christianity and marriage go hand in hand.” you gave him a significant look, “Although I thought they would have more empathy and wouldn't impose it on people.”

“You'd be fucking surprised!” he chuckled, “I mean, seriously doll, Arranged marriages are common there! They don’t really care what YOU think about that shit.”

“This doesn't make so much sense.” you rested your forehead on your hands, groaning, “So I'm doomed to eternal suffering because some asshole is in a charity organization, and therefore someone decided that he wants to change too. Great!”

“It’s hell, babe.”

“And until I became a wife, my afterlife was great!” you said loudly and immediately looked around to see if anyone was paying attention to you. Luckily, no one paid attention, so you turned back to your conversation partner. “Now what? I lost everything I had in my life, my family, my children-”