+++ Daydreams +++

| Ten |

In honour of Halloween...🎃👻
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Incubus' POV

"No..." I groaned with defeat. Even to my own ears, I sounded like my previous self - the righteous, depressed and messed up kid I used to be. I hated it. But I couldn't help the sorrow that struck me painfully in the heart.

"But..." She said, her eyes widening with innocence and her lips pouting. Then, her eyes narrowed, a rueful, snarled smirk taking over her face just as quickly. I could feel myself sagging with panic and grief. Why was this happening to me? Was this some sort of twisted nightmare consequence I had to endure for my 'new' abilities? Because I rather not have them then.

"It's nice to see you again, Incubus." She said, her voice less insecure and clearer, higher. She had forgotten who she had been - thrown that older self away. She was new and polished. Bright, and dark. Deadly and in charge.

"What - no - I'm -" I stuttered like an idiot. She was standing so close. Her hair shimmered like it had starts inside it, her eyes glittered like they were two moons. She was so familiar and so foreign. What had happened to her? How did she come back from...well from wherever she went?

"You think you're dreaming? That I'm just a figment of your crazy, psychotic imagination?" She asked, a slender hand on her hip. She even sort of looked different. What the hell was the Devil thinking, sending her back. Of course I missed her, but...

"Yes. You're just a memory." I replied, my voice, and my defiant attitude back again. Good.

"Well, I hate to break it you, sweetie, but I'm not." She replied, looking down at her feet and then back up at me, a dominate look in her eyes. She was so...badaśs.

"No, no -"

"Yes."

"No." I said as if she hadn't talked at all. "You're dead as dead. You're screwed eternally. I don't even know what happened to your soul, or where you went, but I don't care."

"Incubus -"

"And even if you are real...then I don't want anything to do with you. I don't want you in my face, I don't want you in my life, and I don't want you in this town. Or this country."

"Too bad for you," she said after I cut her off. "Because I go wherever there is death. Because, as you might know - well you should already know considering how many people you murder everyday - that there has to be someone who...disposes of those vessel-less souls. And, that would be me."

"What - you're saying that you're...a...angel of death?" I asked, laughter beginning to bubble up in my throat. I tend to turn giddy and delirious when something this...shocking happens.

"Yup." She replied shortly. She looked proud of herself. Her hands were on her hips and her head was held higher. She had a pleasant, grand smile - and not an evil twinkle in her eye like before. I stood, staring at her with insane, intense thoughts running in my head. I could feel the rush of adrenaline that came when I knew I was growing...'out of control'.

That's how I dealt with my stress: murder.

"Okay..." I breathed out, trying to keep my rushing thoughts and questions in check. I clenched and I clenched my fingers, gritting my teeth and staring down at my boots, tapping my foot lightly.

"Are you...okay?" She asked me, sounding genuinely concerned. Why would she still care about me after all the crap I did?

"Screw it." I said after long minutes, of trying to calm down. The beast was unleashed. And for some reason, it struck out at her.