I killed my friends and it's my fault. But feels unexpectedly euphoric... Kyra is the Devils daughter but she doesn't know it. Soon she meets Coen (a guy with a rich history and inhumanly talents), little do they know what's in store for them.
"I ha...
And yes, the last thing Coen said WAS a (Hermione) Harry Potter reference for all those wondering. Hope you enjoy the chapter!
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Who knew fishing could be so hard. Well, to be honest I'm sure most of you already knew, but unlike me, Coen was making it so easy so I tried to challenge him to a fishing competition. How fucking stupid of me. At the moment my ego is about to cannon ball straight down that cliff then splatter all over my rotting soul.
He scoops his hand under the water and magically a second later a fish is in it. The main word is magically. If only I could do magic then my ego might somehow conjure an air balloon half way down the cliff, saving itself from certain death. Currently the 'fishity fish' (his words not mine) game score was 2 verse 36, so I bet I'll win. Note the sarcasm.
"You win." I huff while making my way back to our luxury tent, I haven't even slept in it yet but I bet my sonic screwdriver the beds are so soft. Actually, I take that back I'm not giving that up.
--
"But time the isn't up." Coen looks at me with a confuzled expression.
"I know." I continue to head inside and look for absolutely anything to eat.
"I'm assuming you're looking for food? If you wait 2 minutes then I'll have the fish cooked." Coen follows me in.
"I don't want to eat what I lost to." I grumble, turning my body towards my bed.
"Technically if you were to eat what you lost to then you would be eating me, not the fish. And besides, you have to eat something." He correcting me, smart arse.
I roll my eyes at him then sit on my bed and start looking through the small number of things that I had left. A jumper, ripped leggings, my Dad's gold necklace/chain and a pair of my old fake glasses. I sigh, look at what I have left of my childhood and father. I lift the gold chain and try (failing) to do it up around my neck. Fuck.
"You need help?" Coens teases from across the kitchen, smirks at he walks towards me.
"As much as I want to say no, I want this done up. So yes, kind sir, please help me." I stick my tongue out at him and lift my hair. He's forgiven for now.
