My Angel

Hey guys, here's another short story =) gay themes, religious themes, magic and violence, if you're cool with all that then enjoy! This is not a happy story...you've been warned O_o 

My Angel

I used to think he loved me. He used to do the sweetest things. It was the little things I loved. The way he would run his thumb over my cheek and smile at me when I was upset. The way he would feed me little bits of food from his fork seductively as he watched my mouth. The way he would run his fingers through my silver hair just to feel how smooth it was.

But all that changed.

Now he runs his thumb over my cheek to wipe away the tears from his latest beating. He feeds me food from his fork as a teasing gesture after a week of forced starvation. The only reason he puts his fingers in my hair anymore is to grab hold of it to drag me to his next torture activity.

We’ve been together 223 years, and in all that time I never thought it would turn out like this.

“Get up my angel, before I’m forced to wake you up like the last three days,” I heard a voice in my ear and I instantly sat up in bed. About a week ago he acquired a new power, he could now heat up his hand to excruciating temperatures. So the past three days he would wake me up by placing a hand on my chest and slowly heating it until it burned my skin and I woke up screaming. Needless to say I became a light sleeper very quickly, I didn’t want him getting any more ideas about where to stick his fingers while he burned my skin.

I kept my eyes downcast, just like he insisted upon, and waited for him to give me orders.

“Get dressed and make me breakfast, when I’m done eating you can eat me,” he said and I just nodded and got out of the bed.

I quickly put on the one pair of pants I owned now, a ratty pair of black sweatpants and a loose fitting button up blue shirt. I didn’t bother with underwear, socks or shoes, I didn’t own any anymore.

I instantly relaxed when I was out of Blaine’s site. I didn’t like the way he looked at me anymore. There was no love left in that hungry stare, just dark thoughts about pain and suffering, always mine.

I silently went about making breakfast and made sure to only make enough for him. I remember the first time he phrased it the way he did just now, “go make breakfast for me,” I had made it for both of us. When he caught me eating mine in the kitchen he got angry. I was confused at the time but then he didn’t let me eat for a week. That was almost 65 years ago now, and even then I had no idea this is what we would be reduced to.

When I finished making the eggs, toast and bacon I set everything up on a tray and slowly made my way upstairs. When I opened the door he was just finishing up his morning ritual. I could see that dark magic flowing all around the room around his body. With the last few words of his chant the dark energy seeped into his every pore and I couldn’t help but cringe. The first time I had tried to stop him from calling on the dark forces the energy swirling around him attacked me and all I can remember is how much it burned. I never felt anything as painful as that and I never have since. I couldn’t even imagine the darkness that was now dwelling inside of him, I wanted to help him, I wanted it out of him, but I knew there was nothing I could do in my current state, I was far from pure anymore.

I sat the tray down on the bedside table and kneeled beside it looking at the floor. I heard him as he got up and walked over, taking a seat on the bed and picking at the food on the tray. He usually had leftovers, but I also knew I had to be good or he wouldn’t give them to me. He always liked to get off in the morning, and I knew that’s what he intended this morning as well.