I stumbled like a drunkard. My feet getting stuck in the cold sand. I tripped over my own feet, and fell down on my knees.
I probably looked like I was fucking praying, or some shit.
And then I started giggling... christ, I needed to get ahold of myself.
I wasn't safe like this. I never was.
It always left me vulnerable, unguarded.
Like this, I lost my sense of care, well wariness.
I was strong now, don't get me wrong, but I was weak minded.
Someone could attack me, and I'd be pretty useless in any sort of defensive response.
That's why I fed alone.
I'll never tell people what I am.
I'll tell them I'm something weaker, so that when they see me next, after a feed they'll just assume I absorbed some natural ass-shit, from the air, earth or nature.
Like witches do.
Not gorging myself on the hot-bodied blood of mortals.
People don't like my kind.
And I can understand why, we're not exactly approachable.
And I've never loved humans.
Cattle are cattle.
Nothing more, nothing less.
Though, that kind of thinking has gotten me into more fights than I'd really like to admit...
But what we do to survive, defines us.
We are murderers.
And I don't think that'll ever change.
And most, like me, because of this, have become too cruel.
Though, not as cruel as demons.
They are in a class of their entire own...
YOU ARE READING
DEMONS Of Drakewater
Teen FictionA Demon girl, a Monster Hunter, and a down-right nut-job, pair up together. ( The 2 of them are acquaintances, well, I guess you could give it a bit of a stretch. Friends? maybe? ). She needs their help, whether she likes it or not. She's more power...
