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Janus


Gasping, Landon greedily gulped down all of the cool night air that he could. His blood fiercely pumping beneath his skin caused him to shake as waves as nausea bared down on him. Knees bent, he leaned his head over a grass yard, waiting for the retching that came as his stomach muscles tightened around the growing pit in his stomach. 

As if on cue, the gagging came. It wasn’t long before he was hurling up the remnants of his dinner that night. Vomiting had become routine for him after his return from Hell. As much as he despised it, he woke from the same dreams and thoughts night after night. No matter how hard he tried to fight it, the same disturbing thoughts came to the front of his still groggy mind. Thoughts that caused him to go on a nightly run, and eventually throw up in someone’s yard. 

Lucky for him, there was no neighborhood watch on his block. Did they have such a thing in New York city? He wasn’t sure. Even if they did, what could they do? He wasn’t vomiting up spirits as he had just a few months before. No, his vomiting was induced by pure, undiluted fear. 

Wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, Landon broke out in a brisk walk to keep himself from vomiting further. It was better to move on than have to smell the stench of bile. He felt truly sorry for whoever had to wake up to it in the morning. He felt more sorry for himself that he was the one vomiting night after night. 

If he was being honest, it wasn’t all bad. Flahme had moved in with him and things had been peaceful. Until she got her new assignment. The news had come unexpectedly, and he had hidden his panic under a cool mask of understanding. He had kissed and caressed her skin until she had finally thrown herself out of bed to go to the New York public library. 

In her absence, Landon had called for one of the few demons he felt he could trust. Bathor was a vile, cunning demon with habit of thievery. However, despite all of his flaws, Landon was fond of him. Outside of occasionally trying to play his tricks, Bathor hadn’t tried to physically harm him yet. Unfortunately, Bathor hadn’t had a clue as to why these dreams and thoughts were surfacing, or where they had come through. 

Having gotten lost inside his own mind, Landon slowed his pace as he approached their apartment building. The nausea had worn off thanks to the chill in the air, but he would still need to brush his teeth and take a shower before he crawled back into bed with Flahme. It was a miracle that he hadn’t woken her up after his first nightmare a few weeks ago, and he had kept it concealed every night since. The silencing charms he had purchased off a witch worked like a charm so that he was able to sneak out of their humble abode and retch to his heart’s content. 

If she knew what he had been thinking, feeling and dreaming of...he was sure she would have been long gone by now. Landon couldn’t bear the thought of losing Flahme, or of disappointing her. 

As he made his way up the steps, he tried to pinpoint when these thoughts started happening. It was difficult to recall. He had flashes of wanting to commit violent crimes, but he had concluded that could have been the fact he had his memories back from his time in limbo. However, days had passed after their return and he started getting an overwhelming urge to skin something, his hand even twitching when a stray dog had nipped at his heels. The dreams...were too disturbing for him to want to rehash. If only for fear of vomiting again. 

Unlocking the door, he kicked off his shoes, threw off his jacket and headed for the bathroom. Immediately he was stripping his clothes off and starting the shower, ensuring the handle was turned all the way so the skin would be hot enough to melt his skin off. Fortunately for him, it wouldn’t. 

It’s important to note that Landon felt badly for deceiving Flahme, and knew he should be able to confide in her. He had promised himself that neither of them would face their struggles alone. After confessing he was married to someone else, and convincing her to go through Hell for him, he wholeheartedly intended on tying the knot with her one day. Only this time he would be doing it for love, and not for some secret agenda the gods had laid out for him. 

As the water pelted his skin, Landon hissed in response to the hot water against his cool skin. He had sold his soul to find the love of his life, but had that truly cost him if he hadn’t had a soul to begin with? 
August 12, 2019 08:09 pm

Janus


The body before him writhed as he bit down on flesh. A beautiful symphony of screams rose to meet his ears, causing adrenaline to pump through his veins further. The steady thrum of her heart beat began to dull, the weight of his body crushed into hers as he continued to clench her neck between his teeth. There was nothing steamy about this occasion as her life blood began to fill his mouth, but he felt his cheeks warming non the less. 

Thoughts of moving on to the next victim were circling his brain as he felt the life leave her body. The kill was thrilling, but the anticipation of it all was what got him riled up. Letting go of her neck, Landon slid a knife out from his back pocket. Flipping the blade out, a cruel smile curled the corners of his blood stained mouth as he pressed the tip into her rib cage and eyed her now matted and dull crimson locks…

Gasping, he shot awake in their otherwise empty bed. Almost immediately his stomach began to churn, the familiar bubbling and acid coating his tongue had him breaking out in a cold sweat. He had only just made it to the bathroom before he emptied the contents of his stomach. 

Still retching, he focused on stilling the shaking of his hands as he struggled to grip the porcelain toilet. Thankfully, Flahme would be taking longer on her assignment. Hopefully he would be able to sort through these thoughts. Consuming blood had become a daily ritual for him. He didn’t mind it at all, and had become used to the power just a few droplets of blood gave him. Especially Flahme’s…

However, these night terrors of him killing her or women who looked like her was too much. He had begun refusing the blood she offered, making up excuses that she needed all her strength for her future assignments. Whether she bought it or not, he had no idea. He could only hope she did. His dreams haunted him through the day. The bags under his eyes were a staple to his aesthetic, but the insomnia he could do without. He was thoroughly exhausted, but terrified to sleep for the fear of his dreams becoming reality. 
August 17, 2019 11:57 pm
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