Andi King didn't know how to play nice, because quite frankly, she didn't like people. She was a loner and that was how she liked it. Especially with a sadistic demon dead set on destroying her and anyone she got close to.
But that all changes when...
"If you fall, then I will too Into nothin' ever after."
Nothing Ever After by Illenium & MIW
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I never remembered what it was like to die. You would think after so many trips to the pits of hell that one would eventually stick, but every time I woke, there was nothing.
No memory. No time-lapse. It was as if he put me back exactly where he found me. Without the gun. Without the pills. Without the rope. The demons that had gutted me. The vampires that had drained me. The humans that had tortured me.
I never remembered any of it, but somehow I always knew it happened.
The only thing that ever stuck was the cold. It stuck to my bones like a cancer I couldn't cure or a plague that couldn't be remedied. It burrowed itself so deep within me that even when my soul returned, it took days, sometimes weeks to find the warmth again.
You would think the pits of hell would be a sauna. It was after all a fiery inferno where you're burned for eternity. But it never failed, which is how I knew I was wrong.
Azazel wasn't done with me.
Whatever he had planned still hadn't come to fruition, and I was starting to think keeping me alive went far beyond the torment he swore to inflict on me because of my sister.
Why else would he give me another shot?
He had to know that this time, I wasn't going for a fucking flesh wound.
This time, come hell or high water, that yellowed-eyed bastard was going to pay for what he had done. But first, I had to find out exactly what he did and remember how the hell I died.
It was dark, and I was naked. Covered in plastic and shivering against a cold metal table. My hands were stiff, and it took longer than usual to gain control of my body, but the moment I pulled the plastic from my head, a smirk crawled across my face.
A morgue...
I was in a fucking morgue.
I clenched my fingers tight, balling my fists over and over again until my muscles began to remember how to work. My skin was ashy, void of any color, but also clean and bare of any wounds or scars that could tell me what happened.
Stiff, and dreadfully tired, I managed to pull my legs from the edge of the table. The room was empty, save for the other bodies that didn't have a sadistic guardian demon, and thank hell for that.
The last thing I needed was to give some old man a heart attack by crawling out of a body bag while he prepared my autopsy.
"Shit," I muttered, running my hands through my hair. I dropped them on my lap, still clenching as I tried to speed up the blood flow.
