THE DAMNED…

©Tanya Grout

It didn’t come with horns or cloven feet. It had come with a briefcase and in a crisp suit – with sublime sayings it had learned as would a psychopath, a predator. The creature had deceived with gifts, charm, and a moonlit swim, yet it had transformed while I slept over night, back into what it was…

Eighteen feet tall and burning alive with awesome anger, just that one hand clasped and thrust my cracking thorax twenty feet into the air. I instantly knew this beast was him: “the suit.” It had the same cold, ice eyes. The ones I should have fled from, ones I had seen before in others.

Its nails dug in deep like a clamp: how much blood could issue from a desire to break free, to wriggle from its grasp, away from that endless inner darkness?

Exquisite pain ripped through my chest, just a beat before the Devil that it was pierced this Teflon cage of ribs and flesh to freshly break my heart.

Would I ever again have the chance to run before it all got started, to detect the sickness of the monster before it mainlined poison into my soul? Or was I destined to live this eternity sweet-talked through an endless cycle of Hell… and more Hell?

© kym darkly

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