Anita

Chapter One: Anita

"Demons have feelings too." she said in a hushed tone. Her wide eyes stared back into his own, unblinking. They were unlike anything he had ever seen, completely coated in an ever-swirling haze of pink and gold. There was no iris or pupil. Just the haze, swirling and combing and splitting to reveal sparse glimpses of a white sclera canvas. They seemed to protrude from their sockets like the bubble eyes of a Japanese cartoon. When she did finally blink, her lashes let fall a sprinkle of bright green glitter.

She was a strange creature. She wore what appeared to be a ballerina outfit, hot pink from her flats to the small tiara atop her head where her hair sat in an odd bun, reminiscent of a strawberry ice cream cone. From her back, large black wings akin to those of a bat spread into the air. They flapped slowly back and forth and she hovered above the ground like some sort of demented fairy.

He sat in a cold, steel chair. The rope binding his wrists dug in to his skin and his shoulder joints ached from the awkward position. Sweat leaked into his eyes and stained his t-shirt with big gray patches. His face contorted as he resisted the unbearable urge to scratch his nose. There was no light in the room aside from a few candles that she had lit and meticulously placed on the floor around him. They reeked of lavender.

She turned away from him now and her wings provided him with a brief but cool breeze. She moved to the table which stood a short distance away at the end of the room. On the table were a collection of vials and beakers connected with tubes and stoppers, some empty, most filled with liquids of varying colors that bubbled and overflowed with steam. She took a glass rod from the table and began stirring one of the larger beakers.

"Just let me go Anita." He said. "Please just let me go and I won't tell anyone, you have my word."

She appeared not to have heard this. Instead she continued to stir and said: "Demons have feelings too. That's what you think I am I know you do." The rod made a tink tink tink sound of glass on glass as she tapped it against the lip of the beaker before setting it back onto the table. She glanced over her shoulder at him. "You talk in your sleep you know."

"Yeah I know I always have." He said. "But listen," He scooted forward, the chair making a squeaking sound as it dragged an inch across the wooden floor. Anita exploded.

She spun around with great speed and nimbleness despite her cumbersome wings. Her nose screwed up as if she smelled something fowl. Her eyebrows knitted together. The pink and gold swirl of her eyes vanished and the white canvas filled to near bursting with glowing red like the ie of a hot stove. Her glittery lips fell into a frown that split open to reveal blue daggers of teeth and she rushed toward him in an outburst of rage, her wings flapping furiously until her face was but an inch from his.

"You do not move!" She shouted. Her voice had dropped ten octaves and – where she had once spoken in the high-pitched tones of a thirteen year old girl— now boomed, a deep echoing baritone. "Youdonotmoveyoudonotmoveyoudonotmove! Do you understand?"

"Y-y-ye—"

"Do. You. Under. Stand?"

He squirmed, cowered back against the chair and screamed "Yes! Yes! I understand, I understand! I'm sorry, I won't move. I won't move I swear! Please!"

At this, she exhaled for a long time as if she'd been holding her breath. The red of her eyes faded and was replaced once again by the colorful haze. Her features relaxed and she turned her head to the side and smiled. "Good." She said, her voice now returned to her normal pitch. "That's very... very...good." The smile faltered and she paused for a moment, staring off into nothing. She seemed disturbed. As if she herself were surprised by her actions. She regained herself, placed a hand over her lips to suppress an odd giggle, and returned to the table.

His chest heaved and his heart pounded. His lips quivered, his eyes watered and he sat in fear- stricken silence. In the time he'd been with Anita this was the first time she raised her voice and it left him petrified. What...was she? She was right. The idea that she was a demon had passed through his mind. That the rapture had arrived and satan's minion had come to drag him to hell where he belonged. Was this hell? He had no idea what this place was or even how he'd come to be here. The last thing he remembered was...what was it. It hurt his head just to reach that far back, but he had a funny image of Anita, her eyes of pink and gold staring into his own as they had moments earlier, and they were in his home. She was in his home. But how? Who was she? He could find no answers for the how or the who but the why...Anita was more than happy to tell him the why.

When he'd woken the first time the room had been dark. He'd tried to move but the restraints bit into his wrists. He'd cried for help and was met with no response save for what sounded like the flick of a matchstick. The blackness split apart to reveal Anita's face, hideous in the dim glow of candle light.

"Hello Alex." She's said. "My name Anita and I love you."

He'd yelled in panic. He'd yelled and yelled. Yelled for help. Yelled for horrible creature to get away but she simple raised a hand to her lips and stifled a giggle.

"I can help you silly you don't need anyone else. I'm your..." from the darkness she brought out a small paperback, a rainbow of post-its protruding from three sides, and began to leaf through it. "...girlfriend. Is that how it's said here? Girlfriend?"

"Wh-wh-?"

"Shh." Cold glass touched his lips and a cool liquid trickled down his throat. "It's okay honey. Rest now." His world began to fade.

When he'd woken the second time, candles were neatly arranged around him and he could clearly see Anita in her entirety. The sway of her large, thin wings had sent a chill down his spine and he'd bit his tongue to prevent screaming again. He'd struggled to control his breathing. Her back was to him and she hadn't noticed that he'd woken up. He'd taken this time to absorb his surroundings. It was a fairly large room. Behind him were piles of miscellaneous items from books to tools to a large tire that was leaned against the back wall. He concluded that he was in a garage of some kind as, behind the table where Anita stood, there appeared to be a vertical shutter door, the kind you open with a remote. About fifteen feet to his right there was a door, raised on a concrete slab. He concluded that the door led inside someplace, most likely a house. But who's house? It certainly wasn't his. No, he lived in a shitty third floor apartment off Yuris Drive. This was a house — he could tell from the collection of bikes and scooters to his left that whoever owned the house also owned at least a couple of kids— and he had been brought here by this...thing.

He'd made himself think. Maybe, just maybe he could make it to the door. But with his hands tied behind him he'd never get it open in time and even if he could there was no guarantee that it was unlocked. That rules out retreat he thought which leaves...attack. He stood hunched over in the chair, gained secure footing as best he could, and charged for the flying beast that called itself Anita. He didn't yell like they did in the movies. He'd always thought that was dumb, throwing away the element of surprise in favor of some useless battle cry when, more often than not, the element of surprise was your best asset. Instead, he clamped his lips tightly shut, tucked his shoulder and prepared for impact. It came. But not in the direction he expected. Instead, a strange sound rose into the air, like a cat's purr drowned in heavy auto tune. A shadow peeled itself from the nearest wall and leapt at him. He felt a hard thump and was suddenly flying forcibly backwards before he hit the ground with a crack. He'd landed on his arm and now cried out in pain. Darkness crept from the corners of his vision and the last thing he saw before it swallowed him whole, was Anita's face and what looked like a very, very large dog.