Death Does Not Become Me....

I think it's been days... I don't know where I am, my hands are bound, and the only item in the room is a tallow candle that barely penetrates the darkness. I can't help but look directly into the flame, which forces me blind everywhere else. I didn't come here willingly, oh no. I finally had a free moment at the cafe without anyone over my shoulder. I was happy, smiling actually for the first time in ages, when the demon Imri sauntered in. He knew I was in the cafe, he looked directly at me as he entered, and within seconds, he casually sat at my table. I couldn't look him in the eye, the same candy purple that Zillah now possessed. Noticing that I wasn't going to acknowledge him, he started purring sweet nothings, inching closer to my ear. Something in his voice held me still, paralyzed to the little cafe chair, and unfortunately, no other patrons were even looking in our direction. I couldn't help but tense as he whispered and giggled how ecstatic he

"Misery no longer loves company. Nowadays it insists on it." -- Russell Baker In a moment of weakness I went back to the Townhouse with Zillah. He's convinced me that the threat on my life is real, and that he won't give up on keeping me in his sights. Which is better... freedom of the streets with imminent doom, or captivity with a bathtub, with a lessened threat of doom? The first night was awkward. He assured me that I'd have my old room, and he would stay outside the door. Not even an hour later, he pawed at the door wanting in. When he finally passed out in the doorway, I snuck back out to get some coffee. It's funny how he thinks the new bars on the windows will keep anything out... or let anything out. Yesterday, the look of loathing wasn't as consuming on his face, and he offered to take me to the Cafe in Paris. I was still very much upset with him, trying to ignore his obvious attention in my direction. But we all know how he is, turning