Oath

Just Casual Business

I'm terrified.

That's all that repeated throughout her mind for the entire day, being at the edge of the Panic Attack mountain and falling off to even taking a few trips to the mildew etched bathrooms. Sure, there's a new wing with restrooms in better conditions and is practically kept in pristine conditions than that to the main center of attention, but still.

Just another reason as to why to obliterate this damned academy-a capitalistic based inner world workings with the need to make themselves appear better to the outside world.

The sunken, deprived life was sapped out of her eyes and face as she trailed out of the school, focused on one thing: making contact with the demon and telling it personally to get the fuck out of her temple. Will it be in vain? Probably-but she was determined.

"Okay you parasite or whatever you are," she began as putting earbuds in her ears, "tell me who you are and what ya are. Give me the basics and maybe we'll cooperate from 'ere."

"Etsera," it began with its ever-so spine chilling voice, "I'm simply a dream demon-not to be confused with those concubine or pimps."

"I-"

"I see you like me already even if I propose as mild danger to your entire well-being, emotionally and spiritually."

"Well- uh- duh. Ya just called a group of sex demons sluts and mansluts and I have no say in that besides agreeing slightly." She began to chew at her hoodie string while walking down the lane to the bus stop, waiting for her particular bus to pick her up and drive her home.

"You're Janet Newman, a girl bent upon the destruction of the world that never gave you rest or mercy. Your vehement vengeance astounds me even, as a demon of whom served under those like you."

"Those like me? Did they ever had a chance in succeeding?"

"As expected, no."

The fact that the demon scoured throughout the recesses of her memory, both old and recent, astounded her as well. And within such a small time frame, it was scary to say the least. "You being so fearful of your life made it poignant for me to research your past and, well, I'm in pity."

"Pity? From you? Ya could'a given me a fucked up daydream for all I cared and this wouldn't be happening' now."

"...You do happen to realize I don't simply focus on miniscule nightmare fuel memories, right?"

"What I'm tryin' to say is fuck you."

The spirit chuckled, a low rumble vibrating through the escapades of her mind. The gear engines of the bus approached the stop, Janet now climbing up on the steps to take her seat on the second row. It was rather empty for it being still early evening-strange, as she puts it. The only other passengers on this dreary public bus was a man with a navy blue ski cap and blond locks streaming out of the hat like a waterfall.

The other being Priscilla, being a seat behind her.

No, that's simply a hallucination, she would have thought, still looking down at her phone throughout the ride. The blonde herself doesn't ride her bus anyways-or was this another bus she was on? Everything about today in general was a complete weird-fest, ranging from practically fusing with a demon to seeing a summoning ritual go down in her own English class.

She blinked once, twice, and the image of Priscilla was gone.

"Nevermind beatin' up the prep," Janet muttered to herself, still chewing on the string, "I still want that fuckin' refund."

"Her ways of saying 'no refunds' is basically saying this damage you've done unto yourself is a permanent one. A thing beyond her control."

She groaned in impatient dissatisfaction before the bus came to a halt at her stop, a detour sign not too far from her home if you take a left down the street. Rising up and getting off, she takes one more glance back at the seats.

"I swear there was a man on this bus," she spoke with laced suspicion, hopping off the steps.

---

"Oh thank god you're home. Can ya help me with my paperwork-"

"I'm kinda sick? So I'll just...I'll just lay down."

The brunette dashed up the tri-steps and into her room, closing the door immediately after. That was practically a bullshitted lie she slipped through like buttered latex gloves through the opening of a Pringles can; then again, her uncle wouldn't really care about such thing. He never did, anyways, besides with paperwork related to the business he was working for.

Janet sat in her bed, soon flopping face first into the pillow in frustration. Or is it boredom? With frustration and boredom intertwined together, she screamed into the plush cushion for a bit before the not-so benign reminder rang through her mind. "You're not sick. At all. I'm not even making you si-"

"Do you not know what a lie is, Etsy?"

"I prefer to be called not that-"

"That performance? Simply a white sprinkle lie! Uncle Lucas doesn't really caaaare if I'm ail or I'm on my last breath. Deep down he might, but it sure ain't showin'!"

All of this was being whispered into her pillow that was spotted with tears across the peach canvas. Her face, scrunched up complex emotions, relaxed into a blank slate of nothing. All of this shit was happening under a timespan of a fucking day. 'Course she knew she was going to breakdown. 'Course she knew her parents weren't going to be here and still have the uncle around being a toxic workaholic.

Of course, she knew she must've been alone.

---

"Ms. Pym, you're wanted for your father."

"Huh? I am?"

Feigned innocence was enough to sway half of the servants within the household, yet few were aware enough to know it was a smiling force of menace. Even Priscilla knew it and yet keeps up the facade.

She is then lead down the corridor, up the stairwell that signaled anyone's steps, and down the hallway she went. The servant didn't follow-he knew not to, anyways.

This one particular room was to the left, as usual, and she enters into an engulfing entirety of darkness, the heightened fight and flight responses spazzing about. This room had more than one person in it, alongside with the atmosphere heaving heavily with silence as a few dozen pair of eyes glance upon the blonde herself. Some in curiosity, some in ambiguity, others just in plain confusion and even disgust.

"Welcome, Priscilla Pym," a voice that was enough to rumble the room and her ears with his deep baritone, yet was laced with such charismatic cheer that it was breathable enough for her to be comfortable. "I have been expecting you. Sit down and we all will talk."