Demons Are a Girl's Best Friend

11- The Shadow

It was a cold, quiet evening. Sylvia was sitting at her desk reading an online article. She had her reading glasses on along with a cozy shawl covering her shoulders. There was a rustling noise on the bed behind her, but she was so focused she didn't notice it. Suddenly, there was a phone screen shoved in front of her face. She jumped in surprise.

"Look. Isn't she cute?"

"Not now, Johann. Can't you see I am studying?" Although she said that, she still looked at the phone. On its screen was a picture of a pretty girl with sharp cat-like eyes and short dark brown hair that seemed smooth to the touch. She was posing with a peace sign and an energetic, dynamic smile. "Yeah, she's pretty cute. Is she your girlfriend?" She pushed his hand away from her face and focused her eyes back on the laptop.

"W-wha?" No way! She'd never... like me." The boy pretty much ran back to bed in embarrassment. As he sat back on it, Sylvia heard the rustling of the mattress and shot him a curious glance. His puffy cheeks were tomato-red, and his eyes were looking at the phone with admiration. "I am probably just a friend to her..."

"Oh yeah? You never know till you ask. You're plenty cute yourself; who knows? She might feel the same about you." Sylvia was struggling to focus on both the conversation and the difficult language in the article. Her mornings were spent in college and her evenings at work; this was the only time she had to work on her thesis. Nevertheless, she felt how important this conversation was to Johann.

"Ewww, did you just call me cute?" His tone was disgusted.

"Yeah if you're gonna be like that, just get out of my room." She gestured at the door with her pen. Johann was quiet for a good minute before he added shyly: "Do you really think I got a chance?"

"Yup. She seems like a sweet girl. What's her name?"

"Mary."

"You're his sister, aren't you?" Mary's bright blue eyes now regarded her with recognition. Sylvia froze in her place. It was as though a sudden dreadful paralysis had taken over her. She was quite familiar with this feeling.

"Johann. You're his sister, right?" Mary repeated, unaware of the calamitous effect her words had. "He showed me a picture of you once, that's how I remembered you."

This ominous coldness, this overwhelming inertia, this insufferable oppressiveness. Sylvia knew it all too well. The shadow was here again; it was going to consume her again. Any moment now.

"I haven't seen him since I changed highschools. How's he doing?"

It was happening now, and once it had started, there was no telling when it would stop. She had to run away now. Sylvia had to escape the shadow before it reached her. With all the force she could find within her feeble arms, she pushed Mephistopheles away and got out of his grasp. Then, sparing no further glances at anyone, she darted away as fast as she could. She ran and ran and ran, bumping into people, into corners, into metal bars. None of that mattered, she just had to run.

When she came to, she was back at the beach, running still though her feet ached horribly. She could taste her salty tears and snot on her lips; she could feel the blisters protesting in her soles. Her hazy weeping eyes could see the sun on the horizon, orange and blinding, threatening to bring in the night. The sea was quiet, eyeing her with indignation and condescension; it was above such sorrow, such heart-wrenching pain; all it had to do was lie there, relaxing as its waves ebbed and flowed. The crimson-dyed skies too stared at Sylvia. In their cloudless eyes she could see no sympathy; only cruel indifference. They reminded her of Mephistopheles' eyes, their cold nonchalance burrowing into her soul.

Finally, her legs gave out, and she fell head first into the wet sand. The water was cold and sharp as it brushed her skin; it felt like the steely touch of a knife on her warm blood-filled wrist. People gathered around her, asking if she was okay. Their voices were loud and muffled at the same time. Sylvia covered her ears and started screaming. All of a sudden, everything was blocked. She could no longer hear their calls; she could no longer smell the sea; she could no longer feel its ruthless caresses.

All of a sudden, all was black. She lifted her head with difficulty, and saw that she was in a completely black space. Had the shadow caught her? Sylvia wondered, stiffly turning till she was on her back. Her worn out eyes stared almost fondly at the darkness. Will she be consumed now? Was she to surrender?

"Hey."

A familiar voice called out softly to her; she had no strength left to find it with her eyes. There was comfort in the blackness. "Sylvie. It's me." The voice was closer to her now. "Just... kill me..." Her lips mumbled. "Mephistopheles. I beg you... Kill me..."

"Why do you want to die, Sylvie?" He asked, his voice tender but echoing. She could feel his presence next to her; it radiated a sense of warmth. "I am tired. It all hurts so much. I am so... so tired." Mephistopheles laid on his back so that they were both looking up at the darkness above. He said nothing.

"I just want this all to end..." Sylvia added. "I don't want to be here anymore. No... No. I don't deserve to be here." Her voice was shaky and dripping with sorrow. She finally turned her head towards him; Mephistopheles followed suit. She gazed upon his expressionless face with the same fondness she had regarded the blackness with. A weak trembling hand grazed his cheek and landed loosely on his neck. "I don't deserve to be here. But I keep living. I am too selfish, too scared." Sylvia smiled the most broken, wretched smile and it stirred something deep within him.

"So please kill me, Mephi." She said beseechingly. "Please, release me. Help me do it. I can't... by myself." Now with both her hands, she lovingly caressed his cheeks. Then, slowly, she lowered her hands until they were holding onto his. Sylvia gently held them up and took them to her neck. His fingers were cold against her skin.

"Please. Just let me die."

Sylvia closed her eyes and let herself go.