The Demon's Words

Now or Never

Today is an ordinary day to young Haruka mashimei. The casual stroll through the red district trying to get money, just as her father instructed, was usual to her. The roads are dirty with trash, both human and food, and cracks. The streets spread throughout  the whole town like a spider's web, with both prey and predators of many kind. The little girl was doing her best trying to get in as much money as possible so that she can be rewarded nicely by her father. She then sold her art works, many which are dark and complicated, not what you expect from a little girl. Until a man wanted a little more than he asked. 

Haruka's POV

My mind was preoccupied with getting costumers to sell my artwork, and other things. Most would walk right on buy, not paying attention. However every so often there will be a couple of people who buy them. My dirty white shirt was slightly loose showing my collar bone and nothing more, the crude stitches suggest that a man tried to patch up the holes. Even though the midnight blue shorts  fit just right they had little holes. My stall was one among many along the road/ sidewalk. That is a dirty white, unstable table hold beautiful paintings and drawings. A man with dark skin, a rugged appearance, scars scatter his body and going under his slightly ripped clothes stalked to my table. I see a bowie knife on the side of his right thigh, as he inspects my art. no... he is looking at me, might as well say something. I push my shoulder length black hair behind my ear, and looked at him with my turquoise/azure eyes.

" Hello, how might I help you today?" My childish voice was clear as a bell, which shocked the man, why is he surprised? well my art is surprising from a child. 

The slightest movement in his arm made me move my arm towards the table, " Well little girl, how about we have some fun?" The old man's  voice was a beautiful as metal on a chalk board, What the hell!I hate these people. Sounds like he went through some plastic surgery on his vocal cords."I can also bring some toys too, if you want."  My hands  were shaking, so I made them stop when I gripped the table." That alley right there to your left, let me see the money first." I was honestly disgusted with the foul man, the way his crooked smile shone his rotten teeth, and he seems to be desperately showing the money. 

I slipped away from the stall, when I locked the stall, and into the alley way. His shoes were worn down but I could tell the shoes had serious grip, do not get kicked by him. The pants and shirt were camouflage with an auto rifle on his back. While I had tan sandlas, which were too big for me at the moment. Our footsteps where soundless among the many that where outside too. My heart was pounding loudly in my ears, so I could not notice other people talking, they are all just blurred sounds at this point. Finally the alley way I have always dreaded, where I do business. 

The man started to grip my wrist tighter when we stoped behind a wooden crate. he started to laugh that was equal to a hayena while gripping onto my shorts, a little to tightly." Mister, please do not rip my short these are the only ones I have." My voice had made a whiny voice, trying to lure my prey. The guy let out a quick fine and gently took off my short, I felt vulnerable at the moment. This is business, I kept on saying those exact words, waiting for my opening. The male had started to pull down his pants, and put his bowie knife at the top of the crate. He steadied me to he aligned with him. Once the shorts came off my hand grabbed the knife slowly. Disguising my action making it seem I was stretching, and my head casually looked back. He was so concentrated on what he was looking at he didn't see his knife coming toward him. Almost like butter, the knife sliced nicely through his neck, cutting through both jugulars. My voice came out like an animal snarling. My routine had always been like this, all day, everyday. 

"Do you how disgusting you are, pig?" I quickly put on my shorts and took his money and his clothing," Thank you dear valued costumer."  My body than began to packed my art and foldable table along with my new rewards, I dashed to my house. Most would say why would a peasant be living in a mansion? Well after my mom died, which was her mansion, father began to have some money issues. He has been playing games, as he would say. Sometimes he would get a lot of cash to pay the bills, other times he would be sending me to this type of work. 

The gate was rusty and showed spots in which prestine condition it use to have. The path to the house was worn down and is filled with crack which weeds have nested comfortably. My footsteps quietly resounded in the flourishing valley, because of me not wanting to wake him up. I made it to my shed, this was where I live, worked, and did leisurely things. The shed was behind the mansion out of view if someone came, and was right on the rock wall that surrounded the mansion. I guess you would say that we are on the outskirts of the city, and was surrounded by other houses. 

Seeing my bed was welcoming me to sleep, I did so without a thought. Unfortunately my nightmares continued.