Fangs and Wands

3. The devil within

I'm woken by a wind running past me. I have dozed on the desk on top of "my diary." I have written- or said- so much that I don't know if there is anything this book doesn't know until I just dozed off. I'm surprised Simon hasn't come for me yet.

     The room is now darker and there is smog covering the floor. There is that wind again and I know something is wrong. All my nerves are on high alert as I slowly rise from the table.

     I notice a shadow behind a shelf and I catch myself at the tip of calling "Hello? Is anyone there?" It's what every girl in those horror movies say before the psycho killer comes out and cuts her throat out. I won't die that way.

     A shadow runs across the wall furtherst from me and my hands fidget around me for a weapon, anything. I'm starting to really hate that this diary does not have a pen.

    A quick, sharp gust of wind runs behind me and I turn to absolutely nothing. It's definitely a fanged. From what I know, fangs like to play with their prey before attacking. I take a deep breath. The first thing is to not let them get into my head. I should probably not think what I'm doing. If I sceam, will anyone hear me?

    A light evil laugh behind me and I'm certain it's a he and he's definitely in my head.

     I start to think of the most unharmful topic that comes to me. Dorothy, my purple teddy bear. She is such a good listener. Sometimes her stare unnerves me though. Like she has come to life and is judging me.

    I move, trying not to think much of what I'm doing but more of Dorothy. Her purple fur which used to be long but is now worn out because of over use.

    I'm almost at the door when suddenly, I'm pushed roughly back against the wall and I'm facing into blood-red eyes that only speak one language. Murder. It can only be one monster.

    "Dominic."

    "In the flesh," he snarles. He has a hand around my throat and another holding both my hands to the wall.

    I am now very much aware of how vulnerable I am without the barrier and noone to rescue me. He could easily kill me. I have always told myself that my death wouldn't be painful. That I would just die in my sleep or faint while walking somewhere. Fangs in my throat are bound to be very painful.

    His head with his extended fangs lowers to my throat and my heatbeat accelerates. I catch myself about to beg for my life. What's the point though. I'm going to die anyway. I close my eyes and relax. Isn't that what they all say? If you struggle it will hurt more.

    I try to think of Dorothy more as I wait for the fangs that will drain my life force to sink into my body. And wait and wait and...

    "Would you just get it done already?" I snap.

    "I do my things at my own time."

    "Your things? Your time? This is my life we are talking about damnit."

   "I have your life on a leash, girl. And believe me when I say it's quite pleasing, knowing I can take your life whenever I want but won't because I like seeing you cower in fear everytime you see me." He halts, probably to let me process what he has said. I can only stare at him. He's so close I think I can smell the blood of all the people he has killed in his mouth.

    "Now you shall get your pathetic little human self to Harold's office."

     Harold? The head? Now what did I do. How the hell am I supposed to find it.

     Dominic releases me and I take a huge gulp of air as I steady myself against the wall, trying to get my bearings. I don't get to have such a luxury because in the next moment, a hand grips me by the waist tightly and the world becomes a blur around me . I tightly close my eyes to try and avoid this dizziness and the sickness that's bound to come. Next moment I'm deposited roughly to the ground in an entirely different room.