The Bird & The Beast

Chapter 6

Nameless. Homeless. Penniless. Loveless.

There were many adjectives that she could use to describe herself, and she could go on for quite a long time, mentally listing all the things she was.

All the things she wasn't.

Self-pity didn't make you any friends, but then again, she was already friendless, and had been for her whole life.

What did it matter? What did any of it matter? Life didn't matter.

She only lived as penance.

The girl shuddered as a chilly wind snuck its way into the holes of her ragged clothes.

She wanted to get up, maybe find a warmer place. But she simply didn't have the motivation.

If she just closed her eyes. . .

The girl jerked herself upright. No. To die would be to find peace. And that was too easy.

Later on in the day, when a group of children walked by her and began taunting and throwing stones and other various objects, she didn't move to protect herself. Let them have their fun.

Benarch knew she deserved it.

The children did their bullying from a safe distance—after all, bullies usually were cowards at hearts and these ones were no different from the rest.

When they grew weary of their fun, they moved on.

Only one little boy lingered behind, and he must have been braver or simply even more foolish than the rest, because as soon as his companions were out of sight, he darted over to her.

The girl eyed him tiredly, seeing his big blue eyes watery with tears. She didn't wonder at the tears. Perhaps it was merely the cold stinging his eyes.

He popped his thumb in his mouth—he was still at that age—with his other hand crammed inside his pocket.

He watched her for a moment, head tilted to the side.

The girl watched him back, blinking once.

He withdrew his hand from his pocket, so quickly she feared he was going to throw something at her.

Instead, he held out a bun wrapped in clear plastic.

When she didn't take the offered gift, he sighed loudly and, using his other hand, grabbed her own and pressed the food into her hand.

He dashed away before she could utter a thank you.

Dazed, the girl slowly unwrapped the treat. It was warm from being inside his pocket, slightly squished.

She nibbled off of it, testing. It tasted slightly of pumpkin, and that brought up old memories of warmth and happiness and simpler times.

Before everything went wrong. Before she turned into a monster.

She ate half of the bun, savoring it, and wrapped the remains back up carefully. As she was doing so, for the second time that day, she felt eyes watching her.

The girl stiffened, looking around her. No one in particular stood out to her. Most people leisurely walked around, going about their day. Some laughing and talking with others. Others more serious. Their bright hair gave her a headache, and only reminded her of what she was.

Part of her envied them. Their easygoing manners, their warm, clean clothes. Their happiness.

But the other part of her said that even if things had played out differently years ago, she would still never be like them.

The hairs on the back of her neck stood up, and a chill crawled its way up her spine.

You need to move. If someone really is watching you, they've been at it for over a week.

"They have," she automatically whispered.

Contractions were a sign of laziness. That's what her mother always said. Unfortunately, the girl's inner voice didn't abide to that rule.

She was lazy.

"And I will move. Just not today."

Lazy.

"Where will I go?" she demanded.

Anywhere. If you have a stalker, it's only a matter of time before they try something.

"Maybe I deserve that."

There's no way you'd be able to keep it at bay if someone's forcing themselves on us. Even you know that's pushing it.

"I deserve it." She gritted her teeth.

Getting raped isn't penance for what you did to Chase.

"Shut up."

We need to move.

"No one will try anything," she snapped. "The idea is ridiculous."

And it was. Even if someone did happen to find her even slightly attractive, which wasn't likely, she was completely and utterly filthy, she was a halfling, and she was skin-and-bones.

Demons don't care what they're doing, as long as they're doing it.

"Not all demons are sex demons. Besides, what are the chances there is one here, anyways? If there was, we would have noticed by now because they would stick out."

There's always the hybrids. Have you ever seen one of those? They might look just like a regular immortal.

"Shut up." The girl couldn't suppress her shiver at that thought. She ran in circles with her inner voice for a while longer before managing to, by sheer determination, block it out.

But she still had the disconcerting feeling that someone was watching her.