Stay With Me Afomia

Chapter 2

The crisp night air wrapped around them as Afomia and Zein strolled through the quiet streets of the human world. The city was alive—bright neon lights flickered, laughter echoed from distant bars, and the steady hum of passing cars filled the air. To Afomia, it was overwhelming. After years of being trapped inside a cursed doll, she had almost forgotten the noise, the scent, the sheer aliveness of the mortal realm. Everything felt foreign yet achingly familiar at the same time.

But her mind wasn't focused on the beauty of the city. No, all she could think about was revenge.

She clenched her fists, her sharp gaze scanning every shadowy alleyway, every unfamiliar face, searching for them—the people who betrayed and killed her. They had to be close. They had to still be alive.

Beside her, Zein walked leisurely, hands tucked into the pockets of his long coat, a smirk tugging at his lips. But behind his playful demeanor, his golden eyes remained watchful. He knew exactly what she was thinking. He could feel it.

"Looking for something, sweetheart?" he asked, his tone light, teasing—but with an edge of warning.

She stopped, turning to glare at him. "You know damn well what I'm looking for."

Zein sighed dramatically, placing a hand over his heart as if wounded. "And here I thought we were just enjoying a peaceful stroll together."

Afomia scoffed, folding her arms. "I didn't agree to this 'walk' just to sightsee. I agreed because I thought I'd be able to—"

"Kill someone?" Zein cut in smoothly, raising a brow. "Not happening."

Her jaw tightened. "Are you serious right now? You promised me revenge, Zein. That was the deal."

His smirk faded. He regarded her carefully before speaking, his voice measured. "And I intend to keep my promise. But not like this."

Afomia felt a flicker of frustration. "What the hell does that mean?"

Zein tilted his head, eyes gleaming under the streetlights. "It means I won't let you kill recklessly. If you stain your hands with too much sin, you'll become nothing more than a corrupt soul. And that, sweetheart, is something I cannot allow."

She blinked at him, momentarily taken aback. "You—the heir to Hell—care about something like that?"

Zein chuckled, raking a hand through his silver hair. "Believe it or not, I do have rules. And I have zero interest in reaping the soul of a murderer."

Afomia clenched her fists, her entire body tense with suppressed rage. "That's not fair. I deserve justice."

"You deserve justice, not damnation," Zein corrected, his voice unexpectedly serious. "There's a difference."

She turned away, inhaling sharply. The fury in her chest burned hotter. She wanted to make them pay. She needed to. But Zein was standing in her way.

She spun back to face him, eyes blazing. "So what now? What am I supposed to do? Forgive them?" she spat, disgust thick in her voice.

Zein sighed, stepping closer until their faces were mere inches apart. "No, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice softer this time. "But I'll make sure you get your revenge without damning yourself in the process."

Afomia stared at him, heart pounding. She wasn't sure what was more frustrating—the fact that he was stopping her, or the fact that he actually seemed to care.

They continued walking in silence. The city stretched before them, glowing under the artificial lights. The world moved on, oblivious to the storm brewing inside Afomia. Zein kept a steady pace beside her, pretending not to notice the dark energy radiating from her form. But he felt it. Of course, he felt it.

Then, without warning, everything changed.

The air grew thick. Heavy. Suffocating.

Zein immediately slowed, his instincts sharpening. A pulse of darkness rolled off Afomia in waves, subtle at first, then growing more violent—dangerous. He turned his head slightly, watching her from the corner of his eye.

Afomia had stopped walking.

She stood motionless, her body rigid, her hands trembling at her sides. Her gaze was locked onto something—or someone—ahead of them. Zein followed her line of sight.

Three girls.

They walked together, laughing, their voices blending into the noise of the city. Carefree. Happy.

But the moment Afomia laid eyes on them, her entire aura shifted.

Zein's expression darkened. "Who are they?" he asked, though deep down, he already knew.

Afomia didn't look at him. Her breathing turned uneven, her fingers curling into her palms so tightly her nails dug into her skin. "They're the ones," she said, voice low, shaking with barely contained rage. "The ones who tortured me before."

Zein's gaze flickered back to the girls. Laughing. Unaware. Untouched by the horrors of their past crimes.

Afomia took a step forward.

Zein grabbed her wrist. "Don't."

She turned on him, eyes burning with fury. "Let me go."

"No."

The air between them crackled, thick with tension.

"They don't get to live happy lives after what they did to me," she hissed, her voice raw. "They deserve to suffer."

Zein's grip tightened. "I'm not saying they don't," he murmured, his tone firm but calm. "But if you kill them right now, you'll become something far worse than them."

Afomia's entire body trembled. "I don't care."

Zein sighed. "Liar."

She glared at him, chest rising and falling rapidly. "You don't understand—"

"I understand perfectly," Zein cut in. His blue eyes bore into hers, sharp, unwavering. "You think I don't know what revenge feels like? The way it eats you alive? The way it demands blood?"

Afomia swallowed hard. There was something in his voice—something dangerous.

His tone softened. "But if you let revenge control you, it will consume you. And I won't let that happen."

Afomia's hands shook.

The three girls continued walking, completely unaware of the danger that had been so close to them.

Afomia's breathing steadied. The violent energy surrounding her began to wane. Slowly, hesitantly, she took a step back.

Zein didn't let go of her wrist until he was sure she was in control again.

Then, with a knowing smirk, he whispered, "Come on, sweetheart. If we're going to make them suffer... let's do it right."

The night stretched endlessly above them, a velvet expanse dotted with scattered stars, barely visible past the glow of the city skyline. Afomia's mind was still buzzing, her pulse still racing with the high of fear-induced revenge. She had imagined blood, violence, an end to her enemies so final that they would never harm anyone again. But what she had witnessed tonight—what Zein had orchestrated—was something far more chilling.

She turned to him, watching the way he walked so casually as if nothing had happened. His coat swayed slightly with each step, his blue eyes gleaming under the dim glow of the flickering street lamps.

"You enjoyed that," she accused, crossing her arms.

Zein smirked, tilting his head slightly. "Of course I did. Didn't you?"

Afomia hesitated. She wanted to say no, to insist that her thirst for vengeance would only be quenched with their suffering—real suffering. But the truth settled uncomfortably in her chest.

"Yes," she admitted quietly. "I did."

Zein chuckled. "Then why do you sound so conflicted, sweetheart?"

Afomia bit her lip. "Because it's not enough. Not yet."

Zein nodded as if he expected that answer. "Patience. True revenge isn't about the moment. It's about the aftermath. You want them to break, don't you? To suffer, piece by piece, until they have nothing left?"

She swallowed, a chill running down her spine. He made it sound so easy. So calculated. But then again, he was the heir to Hell. He knew all about destruction—how to drag someone down until they drowned in their own sins.

"They'll never forget what happened tonight," Zein continued, his tone smooth, coaxing. "They'll wake up screaming from nightmares of you. They'll look over their shoulders every day, wondering if you're there, lurking in the shadows. Fear is the most exquisite form of suffering. It lingers."

Afomia exhaled, letting the words sink in. Yes. That was what she wanted. Not a single moment of terror, but a lifetime of it. The thought sent a shiver of satisfaction down her spine.

She glanced at Zein. "And if that's not enough?"

Zein grinned. "Then we escalate."

The next few days passed in a blur. Afomia found herself restless, pacing, thinking, replaying that night over and over. She had watched the terror in their eyes, felt the rush of control, and yet—something still felt unfinished.

The girls had disappeared from their usual routines, skipping school, avoiding social media, staying locked inside their homes. It was a good start. But Afomia wanted more.

Zein, as always, remained a step ahead of her. One evening, he appeared beside her without warning, hands in his pockets, his smirk ever-present. "You're bored," he observed.

Afomia sighed, rubbing her temples. "I'm waiting."

"Why wait when we can have more fun?" Zein's eyes gleamed mischievously. "I think it's time for the second act."

Afomia arched an eyebrow. "You already have something planned, don't you?"

Zein chuckled. "Darling, of course I do."

That night, they moved unseen, weaving through the city like phantoms. Afomia followed Zein into an unfamiliar part of town—a quiet, upscale neighborhood lined with elegant houses, their windows glowing warmly in the dark.

"They're here," Zein murmured, nodding toward one particular house.

Afomia's pulse quickened. "How do you know?"

Zein shot her a knowing look. "I know everything."

Afomia rolled her eyes, but the tension in her chest was undeniable. She could feel them. Their presence. Their fear. Even from here, it clung to the air like a tangible force.

Zein reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small, polished mirror. "Care to see for yourself?"

Afomia hesitated, then stepped closer. The mirror's surface swirled, revealing a dimly lit bedroom. Inside, two of the girls sat huddled on a bed, their faces pale, their hands clutching at each other. The third girl stood near the window, nervously peering out as if expecting something—or someone—to appear at any moment.

"They're terrified," Afomia whispered, her heart pounding.

Zein's lips curled. "Perfect."

He snapped his fingers, and the bedroom light flickered. The girls gasped, clutching onto each other. Another flick of his wrist, and the window rattled violently, as if unseen hands were trying to force it open.

One of the girls let out a broken sob. "It's her. I know it's her."

Afomia felt something dark and exhilarating bloom inside her. This was power. This was control. She met Zein's gaze, and for the first time, she understood—this wasn't just about revenge anymore. This was about playing with them. Dragging them into the same abyss they had forced her into.

"Let's make them suffer," she whispered.

Zein grinned. "Now you're speaking my language."

He lifted his hand, and the room in the mirror shifted—the shadows stretched unnaturally, the reflections in the mirror twisted, morphing into grotesque versions of the girls' own faces. The air in the bedroom grew thick, heavy, suffocating.

One of the girls screamed.

Another collapsed onto the bed, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

Afomia watched, enthralled, as panic consumed them. They had tortured her once, turned her life into a nightmare. Now, she was returning the favor.

The girl by the window stumbled back, her face streaked with tears. "We have to go! We have to get out of here!"

Zein waved a hand, and the door slammed shut on its own. The girls shrieked, pounding on it desperately.

Afomia couldn't stop the small laugh that escaped her. It was intoxicating.

"They won't sleep tonight," Zein murmured. "They won't sleep for a long time."

Afomia nodded, satisfaction settling deep in her bones. But as she turned away, her chest tightened with something she couldn't quite place. Was this truly enough? Or was she simply being pulled further into Zein's world—a world where torment was an art, and vengeance had no end?

As they disappeared into the night, Afomia couldn't help but wonder:

Was she still in control?

Or was she becoming something else entirely?

Afomia sat on the edge of the rooftop, her legs dangling over the city lights below. The night was cold, crisp, but the fire inside her burned hotter than ever. She had reclaimed her power once, but it still wasn't enough. There was one last piece of her past that needed to be dealt with—the place where her suffering had begun.

The mansion.

Her aunt had stolen it from her, just as she had stolen Afomia's self-worth during high school. But now, Afomia wasn't the scared girl who used to cry in the dark. She was something more. Something dangerous. And she was ready to take back what was hers.

A presence settled beside her. She didn't have to turn to know who it was.

Felix.

"You've been quiet all night," he observed, his voice smooth, as if he hadn't just climbed a twenty-story building like it was nothing.

"I'm thinking," Afomia muttered, her gaze fixed on the horizon. "There's something I need to do."

Felix studied her for a moment before speaking. "If it's dangerous, Zein's going to have a problem with it."

Afomia scoffed. "Zein doesn't own me."

Felix smirked at that, his silver eyes gleaming under the moonlight. "No, but he likes to think he does."

She turned to face him fully. "I want to go to my aunt's mansion. Tonight."

Felix raised an eyebrow. "That's sudden."

"It's been mine from the start," she said, voice steady. "She took it. She made my life miserable. And now, I'm taking it back."

Felix leaned back on his hands, watching her with an amused expression. "And let me guess—you want me to come with you?"

Afomia smirked. "I don't need you to. But I'm not stopping you either."

Felix chuckled, shaking his head. "You're lucky I like trouble." Then, after a pause, he added, "Zein's going to lose it when he finds out."

Afomia shrugged, standing up. "Then he shouldn't have left me alone."

Felix grinned. "Alright, let's go start some chaos."

And just like that, they disappeared into the night, heading straight for the past Afomia was finally ready to destroy.