There's nothing left.
"So here you are. Finally in person. Finally getting to see your face after so long. I wonder, how long it will take you to remember?"
***
You had finally come to terms with the fact that there was nothing left for you; nothing left to lose and nothing left to live for.
So you just lived your life uncaring.
You didn't care wether you lived or died.
You didn't care about anything anymore.
Things just seemed to drag on, and in your final bout of caringness, you had found someone who was worth what little hope for life you had left.
His name was Mark.
And, emphasis on was.
You never could've seen it.
You never could've known who he really was.
Truth is, he was living a lie. Trying to come across as someone who was killed a long time ago.
His will to keep pretending was fading fast, and more and more of his little outbursts had found it's way to the surface.
Damien was his name, though he said he preferred to be called Dark, as it was shorter and everyone knew him by that name.
He told you that Mark was killed a long time ago, and he had to take on everything that Mark had in his life.
Eventually, he said, he just couldn't do it any longer.
People started to notice that 'Mark' wasn't acting right.
There was something wrong.
There had always been something wrong.
He had gotten so angry and fed up with the fact that nobody knew. No-one could've possibly known.
He knew that, but it didn't stop him from letting his 'persona' slip.
He, at first, kept his secret to himself, not wanting to scare you off, but eventually found that he needed to tell you.
He knew how little you cared for everything.
He just wanted to know if you would stay even after he told you.
You were wary about it at first, but just couldn't stay away knowing that there was nobody else that understood you.
That, and you felt like you needed to help the man you had fallen so hard for.
He was grateful for your staying, but he had always been so cautious as to not let you see into his past.
He would never talk about what happened to Mark, or what he did when he left.
You, of course, had your suspicions, but never bothered to act upon them, seeing as you couldn't care less for what he was doing without you.
He had come home late one night, covered in blood and a black, thick, substance had been dripping from his pitch black eyes.
He had walked up to you and pinned you to the wall muttering the words "do you remember me?" over and over again.
He had started getting angry and walked away from you, grabbing a knife from the kitchen, plunging it into his heart.
He, being a demon, couldn't possibly die from an injury as this, but it horrified you to no end that he would even consider doing that.
You knew that he wasn't in his right mind, but had no idea how to help him.
So, you just stayed glued to the wall, eyes burning holes into Damien, watching his every move.
Eventually he calmed down. He didn't apologize for his outburst, but instead told you to run away and to never turn back if it ever happens again.
He could've hurt you this time, but he didn't. He had started to regain his rationality before anything could've happened to you.
He loved you more than anything, but he just couldn't let you see him like he truly was.
So you agreed, knowing full well that you'd never run, even if he told you to.
W/C: 637
