My demons (book 1)

Love is a bitch

They spent the next few days on the road, driving from one city to another, staying in expensive hotels and having a good time exploring the land sights.

The night was resting upon them, and they both lay down on a king-sized bed in yet another 5-star hotel. Aisha was sleeping and had in her sleep shifted to lie nearly atop the black-haired killer, her head resting against her chest while her arm wrapped around her waist. Meanwhile, Claire was awake, more than acutely aware of a warm body atop of her.

The images of her dead lover were burned inside her head, smouldering, suffocating - painful. It hurt to remember, to cry, to breathe now that she was not there to share the air with her.

Memory didn't really serve her well anymore. It was hard to remember the last time she had felt anything other than a dullness in her chest and the emptiness of her whole being was all-encompassing. No matter what happened around her, she'd been unmoving since the day she was killed, ripped out of her arms and returned to her creator.

She didn't want to remember her that way, her throat cut open, her skin burned, bruised, cut,...tortured, but after so many years, it was the only thing left of her that she still had.

She had long since stopped wishing for any sort of warmth, if it was not the warmth of her arms wrapped around her. What she got from random flings was enough to keep her going, everything else would be inadequately too much. Then why was she finding it impossible to remove the sleeping brunette from her body, to let her rest on the mattress instead? Before she could force herself to do it regardless, Aisha started talking.

"You don't have to be bothered by me Claire, you can go about your days as you intended to before I hijacked your life. Just let me tag along and I'll manage."

Claire looked down on her, her eyes as characteristically empty as usual. "You really think we are just driving around for fun? In a few days, we will reach our destination. I have some business there. A friend, actually. Not a good friend but that's hardly the point. You see...she is not the person I would really like to keep around, but she is good for the business. She has a way of getting clients. And, of course, I need clients."

When she felt the slight shiver of Aisha's body, she let out a cold, humourless chuckle.

"I know what you are thinking. I don't need to kill people because I don't need the money I get from the kill. I don't need sleep, new clothes, food...so why would I need hundreds of dollars for clothes and hotels and bars and expensive food? But the truth is 160 years of nothing can get really boring. Would there be another sales man walking the earth if it wasn't for me? Or maybe another secretary? Would mortality rate drop suddenly if I didn't do what I do? Would another crime investigator sleep better knowing there was no new kills that day? No. People would still die. Same people, for that matter. Another hitman would do my job. Or the person who ordered the kill. And the person who was already sentenced to death might die in a great amount of pain due to the lack of knowledge from their killer. The way I do it, they die before even realising I touched them in any way. It's like falling asleep, the way I would go if I had a chance to choose."

As she talked, Aisha couldn't help but stare at her. She was beautiful. But not in the way most people pictured beauty. She was art. And art wasn't easy to understand. But those who did never forgot it. She wasn't what people called the sun. Not the one on the sunny summer day at least. She wasn't the moon either. She was the small ray of light that shined through the clouds on a gloomy day. Not the one that warmed you up, but the one who gave you hope for a better day. The sunny one.

"The way you talk about life...you really do hate it, don't you?" she nearly whispered, desperate to distract Claire from her obvious staring. She was starting to feel like the killer knew of her every thought and it made her cheeks burn in embarrassment.

"You don't?" she raised her eyebrow in disbelief.

"I mean... it's a lot more bearable with you in it." she blurted out without thinking, making Claire's gaze snap to hers.

"I surely put the fun in funeral," she laughed grimly. If she noticed the sudden redness on her cheeks, she didn't comment on it.

"Did you just use a funeral as a metaphor for life?"

"It is though, isn't it? People die every day, feelings die, dreams die...and when you look at the bigger picture, stars die each day, entire constellations parish. It's one big funeral."

"Did you ever think about ending it?"

She let out another humourless laugh before answering. "I did. Twice. Put a bullet through my brain, slit my wrists open...we can't die from suicide Aisha. My demon died though. And another one took charge. And then again. So at least now I know how to control them. I can kill them just like that. I have all the power. And now we work together. There you go, the secret to my success," a grim smile appeared on her face again.

"Why did you try to kill yourself?" Aisha asked before she could stop herself, her heart sinking as she imagined the world without Claire in it. And at the same time, she started realising that the one way out she had always taken for granted and saw it as a shred of hope if things got unbearable...was gone.

"Love is a bitch."

"Over a guy?" she asked, flustered. She never thought Claire could let her feelings bring her so close to dying.

"Girl, actually. But that's hardly the point," Claire mumbled before pushing Aisha off of her gently, moving to stand up and stretch. "We should get going."