"A... double-edged..." you trailed off, his words not quite striking you as of yet. You were still stunned at the being currently standing in your living room, dripping blood that never reached the floor.
"In exchange for sending the little bastard to Hell, I get your soul too. DoEsn'T tHAt sOuND LikE FUUUUUN?~" he cooed to you, slowly waving the blade in front of your face. His body continued to glitch back and forth, unstable as his excitement grew. The idea that he might be able to play with someone in Hell! And you let out some good screams, so you were definitely a fun one.
Your eyes followed the knife as he waved it around. You could only imagine the kind of torment he would put you through in Hell, and you hesitated. It did make sense, in a way; surely demons didn't do things for free. But to be sent to Hell along with your boyfriend, what was the point?
Anti scoffed, taking a step back. Your hesitation was a killjoy. "I'll give you three days to decide. Three days only."
"What's the point of sending him to Hell if I go too?!" you blurted out, panicked.
"YOU won't go right away. But your soul will be all mine when you die~" the demon purred. He stroked your cheek with a bloodied hand, making you shudder in an unpleasant way. Anti only laughed his high-pitched giggle. "Three days," he added, taking a few steps back towards the TV.
Your hands gripped the chair cushion tightly. You were still terrified of the demon, but moreso of your boyfriend. "What... if he...?"
Anti merely shrugged. "That's not my problem," he muttered. "I'm a fucking demon, not a bodyguard, bitch." Smoke began to pour forth from the TV set again, enveloping him as he glitched into thin air.
A whisper at your ear made you jump. "See you in your dreams, my pretty bitch~"
(●)~
Three days. It seemed like an eternity to you, especially as your days usually consisted of cleaning and taking care of your boyfriend, but you knew that having three days to make a decision wasn't long at all. You sat in stunned silence, staring at the blank TV screen. Blood dried on your arms and face where the demon had touched you, serving as a reminder that what had just happened was real.
Slowly you made your way to the shower, in something of a daze as you walked.
Three days.
How am I supposed to decide if I want to go to Hell when I die, KNOWING it'll happen?!
You showered thoroughly, scrubbing the blood away until your skin was pink and tender. You were unaware of the tears pouring down your face.
Stepping out you eyed the mirror, wary of any more messages. But the surface was simply fogged over, no lettering written there. You dried and dressed quickly, overcome with the chills.
You eyed the living room floors carefully. The smoke had long since dissipated, and you were searching for traces of Anti's blood, of which there were none. Wouldn't it have been the icing on the cake, to have to clean up after the demon you had unwittingly summoned?
Three days...
(●)~
Your boyfriend stood in the doorway when he got home, his eyes scanning the house. Something felt amiss, and he couldn't place just what it was.
You were in the kitchen, concentrating on cooking dinner and trying desperately not to overthink on what had happened earlier. How could you possibly keep your mind occupied at this point?
I'd be rid of him for good. Forever. And he'll be suffering the way he makes me suffer. Why am I hesitating?
Because I don't want to go to Hell!
You sighed through your nose, not seeing your boyfriend approach the kitchen threshold, his eyes on you. Your face was contorting through all sorts of different emotions, the main one seeming to be some sort of a struggle internally. But you had pleaded with him that nothing was going on... hadn't you?
His presence wasn't seen nor felt until he had a grip on your hair, a great big fistful of it as he jerked you back and away from the counter. You cried out, eyes wide in terror as your boyfriend's hand tightened. "P-please," you begged, not ready for yet another of his punishments.
"What are you thinking about?" he questioned you gently, in contrast to the way he was manhandling you. When you didn't reply, you were shaken roughly; you were so certain he was going to pull your hair right out of the scalp. "Answer me," he warned.
"I... had... another nightmare," you replied at long last, slowly and deliberately. Tears rolled down your cheeks, and you grasped the hand that clutched your hair, trying to pry it away. "P-please...!" you sobbed.
"Somehow I just don't believe you, darling. I think you're lying to me." He threw you aside, quite literally, making you crash against the wall. Nearby glasses clattered together as they were shaken from the impact, one even toppled over onto the floor. It shattered, and you had the awful sensation of dejá vu. Hadn't he done this a million times before? Thrown you against the wall, accusing you of things that weren't always true?
Is he cheating on me? Is he being defensive?
Did you even care?
Kneeling down to your level he looked down at you, his face full of disgust and mock sympathy. "Now, darling, look at the mess you've made... clean it," he spoke, his tone warning you against any sort of rebellion... not that you had the willpower to do such a thing. When you didn't immediately make any motion towards the broken glass he shoved you into it, slicing your cheek and forcing an outcry. "I said clean it," he spat.
Slowly you got up, blood trickling down from behind the hand you had pressed to the wound. Tears ran just as freely as your blood as you carefully swept up the broken glass. Silently you wondered if sending yourself to Hell would be worth watching him be sent first.
Do I want to spend an eternity in torment with that demon, just because my boyfriend is abusive?
You watched the blood drip to the tiled floor, mixing with the tears that fell. You tried not to sob, knowing that he was watching.
I think I do.
