Asmodeus - Demon of Lust: Pt. 07

When he leaves, silence swallows me up like a giant chasm. But it is one that I willingly fall into, craving it's comfort after bearing the weight of so many words. Rather than using it to contemplate this new meaning to my existence, I banish all questions and thoughts and emotions from my mind.

It feels so good to be numb and I stare into the red earth without really looking at it. My mind doesn't just wander, it leaves me, if only for a little while; and I sway on my feet, so thoroughly exhausted after... What?

I find it hard to distinguish between the good memories and the bad. It's as if my entire life has been a struggle in one way or another and this new life; I fear it. I fear the power it has over me, the ability to change me into someone I no longer recognize. Damn him for giving me the choice; what if I make the wrong one?

This world could be a new home, an escape from the only life I've ever known; the life of mine which I am privileged to have led. After all, I've had everything that a person needs to survive; a roof over my head, love in my heart, knowledge at hand and food in my belly.

Except... There was always something missing; something which erected an invisible barrier between me and the people I love. Why is it that I pushed them all away? My family, my friends, my chance at happiness?

Did I want to be alone? No. I wanted more than anything to be with them, to be a part of them. But something always pushed me back. Was it because they didn't understand me? Or because I couldn't understand them? I was always looking for something more, as if I was placed on Earth to find one absolute truth. And the life that I've lived, as content as it should have been, was simply not enough to satisfy me.

This is why, I know, I fear the choices I have been given. What have I become if I cannot appreciate the privileges I've been afforded? What kind of person rejects a life which has the potential to be rich and rewarding? Yes, I fear my own choices, not because I have no clue what comes next but because the ease at which I find myself wanting to be here is unsettling. What kind of person willingly discards her old life and all those within it to be with a stranger? To become a stranger?

Only a desperate one. A person who was born trapped and suddenly finds a way out. Would such a person find the strength to push past fears of change and the unknown toward the possibility of freedom? Or is the idea of such change and uncertainty too daunting to risk leaving their prison?

I have made my choice. I need a moment to let go of the other option though, so that I can put it to rest and immerse myself into the life that I have chosen without regret.

I have made my choice. I choose freedom.

* * * * *

I stand in the sunlight after what seems like a century, letting its soothing warmth wash over me. I'd forgotten how much I'd missed it.

This isn't a dream. I truly stand above ground with the sun shining red through my closed eyelids and glinting off my teeth which are exposed in a grin of pure delight. I curl my toes around the soft coolness of the grass before digging them deeper into the earth, past roots and fibres until I feel the rich brown soil beneath.

I'm standing in front of my home, savouring the feel of the summer breeze as it sings through my hair. This is it. I'm only a few steps away.

I open my eyes and step forward, toward the stone and tile archway which shelters the double door entrance of the house. A pin-pad is attached above a handle on one of the doors and I reach for it without thinking, the sequence familiar to my fingertips. I stop at the last second, realising that it would be quite a shock to those inside if I suddenly come barging in. I give the door a sharp rap with my knuckles instead, before pulling my hand away.

As I wait for an answer, my leg jumps disobediently and I chew my bottom lip as both anticipation and dread fill me.

My father opens the door and I forget to breathe.

We stare at each other for a second and I take in just how tired he looks. He seems to have aged a decade over the past few days; darkness shadows his eyes, his thinning hair looks un-kept and his usually clean shaven face is speckled with salt and pepper stubble.

And then the spell is broken. His mouth moves but before he says anything, I cut across him.

I try to sound as sympathetic as possible, letting a touch of the true sorrow I feel at the sight of him, colour my voice.

"Mr Sastri," I say, "I'm so sorry for your loss."

Instead of replying, he stares at me for a second, his gaze hardening, then he shuts the door in my face!

After I get over my shock, I knock once more, knowing he will answer.

He opens the door again, fury visible in the lines of his face and I'm quick to apologise, realising the insensitivity of my words.

"I'm a friend of Selena's, Sir," I say, tripping over the lie, "I'm so sorry that I phrased it as if..."

Of course, he's not the kind of man who would give up his daughter for dead; not unless he sees the body. I keep forgetting just how short my time away has been.

He looks like he's about to shut the door again.

"Please Sir, I know I have no right to ask this of you, but can I come in? Selena... She was- she is like a sister to me."

He huffs with unconcealed displeasure, looking at me but not truly seeing my face under the glamour. I know that he sees a young woman standing before him with pleading eyes, but she isn't the daughter that he's lost.

"Funny," he says in a voice that suggests the complete opposite, "My daughter never mentioned you before. All her close friends have already been to visit; they're still helping us look for her, but you, I don't even know who you are. I've never seen you before and you're wasting my time."

He moves to close the door again.

I shoot my arms out and push against door before he touches it.

"Please! Please Sir, I only found out yesterday! Please let me pay my respects. I love Selena, I really do. Please believe me." I'm desperate to go in, to spend time with my family and it shows on my borrowed face, in my stranger's eyes. My throat constricts and the tears fall.

His eyes soften a little. My father may be a hard man, but he's neither cold nor cruel. What I wouldn't give to hug him right now, to feel safe in the way that only a loving father can provide.

"Make it quick," he says, stepping aside and it might as well be a hug from him. I am quick to comply, stumbling through the doorway in my haste.

"Be careful," he says, catching my arm to steady me before looking outside again and calling, "You can come in too."

He says this to the man who stood behind me at the doorway. The man towers a massive foot and a half over my father, opposite from him in every way possible.

Where my dad is short and stocky, he is tall and well-built. His skin is pale compared to dad's and his hair shockingly ash-blonde, kept just a little too long for contemporary tastes. Black tribal tattoos creep across his forearms peeking out from beneath rolled up sleeves; my father hates tattoos. Ice-blue eyes pierce the deep brown pair which sharpen with suspicion once more.

"I never got your name," he says turning back to me as my companion walks over the threshold.

"Sorry," I amend hastily; I know that one false move on my part will give dad his excuse to kick us out, "I'm Rowan, Selena's friend from university."

I chose I name that I could have possibly mentioned to my family before; Rowan was an old friend from high school but I'm hoping that they only notice the familiarity of the name, not where it came from.

"And this is my partner, Ash."

My father shakes my lover's hand and even though he doesn't know who we are, I feel the tension spike. The muscles on his forearm flex and I see that he's testing the stranger before him, searching for weakness.

He finds none. When they break contact, his hand twitches a little and a small shudder rolls through him. He walks through to the lounge as if the pain means nothing. Typical cop bravado.

Furious, I elbow 'Ash' in the side as hard as I can. All this accomplishes is the bruising of my elbow. I glare at him, rubbing my arm and he shrugs, a gesture that looks so odd I can't help but smile.

Nonetheless, I take this brief opportunity alone to chastise him for his behaviour.

"No more macho bullshit!" I hiss, so that only he can hear.

"My apologies," he replies, not bothering to lower his voice.

I groan, slapping a hand against my forehead. This is going to be a long day.

Eventually, we settle on the overstuffed canvas couches in my parents' living room, silent as a graveyard. It's broken by the awkward dance between hosts and uninvited guests. My mother asks if I'd like anything to drink.

I long to speak with my parents as a daughter; see warmth and love in their gazes in the place of suspicion and sorrow. My sister, always so in tune with my thoughts avoids my strange eyes while my usually jovial brother sits silent and red-eyed, staring at his hands.

My mother speaks again, but it's with forced politeness and a tight smile. She asks questions about my relationship with her daughter, how we met and so forth, questions which I am able to answer easily.

"Rowan, is it? Yes I'm pretty sure I've heard Selena mention you. What are you studying?"

"A Bachelor of the Arts, majoring in English with a minor in Theology, I met Selena in an English lecture." I reply, heartbroken to hear the false chirp in her voice.

Fingers clench and eyes tighten at the mention of my name. I can't believe just how much my disappearance has altered their behaviour. My mother is quick to change the subject, eyeing Ash with seemingly genuine interest.

"You two look so sweet, how long have you been together?"

"Forever," I reply, when a fake time period refuses to materialise in my mind. At least I'm not lying.

While my mother and I discuss my love life, my parents sit together rather stiffly, as if twenty-four years of marriage were not enough to make them comfortable with one another. Their eyes never meet. Has my disappearance caused the strain?

Was I really such an essential part of their lives, that they are irreversibly changed by my absence? I hope it isn't so, not only because it'll make it harder for me to willingly leave them but also because I can't bear the thought of them suffering for my decisions. It sounds selfish, but the hope that they will one day move beyond my disappearance is comforting. At least that way I can begin my new life with a clean slate and without guilt weighing me down.

"How far along are you?"

I nearly choke on my glass of water.

"Er... Five um..."

"Months," supplies Ash, taking my hand in his.

"Yes, five months," I say.

My mother smiles a little while my father eyes Ash with distaste.

My parents were never overly affectionate in public, true, but as one of their children, I've seen a tenderness reserved only for each other shine through on more than one occasion. Enough to believe that they still love each other as they have since they were teenagers.

Or maybe I just saw what I wanted to see?

The idyllic relationship between two people who decide they love each other enough to be together until the ultimate end. It might have been a naive notion but it was a beautiful one to grow up believing. Of course, I learnt the hard way that love isn't all that easy to find. And when you finally do, it isn't all longing stares and blissful sighs.

After a short time – I don't know whether to be relieved or disappointed – sitting with my family and partaking in the forced formalities, the conversation ceases. I use the opportunity to excuse myself.

My mum directs me to the bathroom across my bedroom and as soon as I turn a corner out of sight, I duck into my room. It is almost exactly as I left it, although with a neat emptiness which I've never associated with my personal space. The normally messy room has been tidied somewhat, the bed dressed and the clothes which would have been on the floor have been picked up, folded and piled carefully at the edge of my bed. It's like my mother hoped that by preserving the imprinted memory of me within this room, I would suddenly walk out of it, as if I'd been hiding in the cupboard the entire time.

I skim my fingers across the varnished wood surface of my dresser and rub a smudge from the mirror behind it. I treat everything I touch with absolute reverence, like it's all part of an ancient tomb, the prized possessions of a departed soul. Oh, I know that I am still Selena; but I'm a different version of her, reborn from the ashes of this old life. Freedom beckons while the chains of my past sing sweetly to me, attempting to entice me back into their iron hold. Their fingers of nostalgia grip tight my throat and I can barely breathe. I love my family but this existence has stifled me all these years. I want to be free! But still a terrified part of me wants to be imprisoned, here where it's safe.

My hand brushes against a thin knotted rope, lying in the dust coating my dressing table. I lift up the black leather necklace and rub my thumb over the silver pendant that is attached to it. It's a two inch long ankh, the Egyptian symbol of eternal life. Next to it lies another, longer necklace with a gemstone looped through it. It's carved into the shape of an angel and is made out of a stripy brown stone called tiger's eye.

I used to wear both these pendants every day, only ever removing them to polish them. The ankh's necklace can be adjusted to fit snugly against my throat while the strap which holds the angel is long enough so that it disappears between my cleavage. I study the pendants for a time and am struck by the startling relevancy of them both. The tiger's eye stone which symbolises grounding and protection; is my Asmodeus, a strong, dark angel of the earth. Even the ankh has a parallel; as farfetched as immortality seems, it's been confirmed by lover. My soul is as ageless as his body.

Is this yet more proof that I am destined to be with him?

As I've done countless times before, I slip both necklaces on, adjusting the ties on the ankh's cord so that it tightens around my neck and leaving the angel hanging low on its cord. The pain in my throat lessens somewhat at the familiar weight of them on my neck. Perhaps there are some things that need not be discarded from my old life. I have a great many possessions – most of them material or sentimental – but only three which I prize above anything else. Two of them hang on my neck at this very moment, while the third dangles above my pillow.

It's the dream-catcher which has guarded my dreams since I was ten, from nightmares which used to showcase not goblins nor ghosts but killers with knives, intent on pursuing me to the ends of the earth just so that they could end me. Were those glimpses of my other life? Bitter reflections of my own death?

I shudder, climbing onto my bed, needing to run my fingers over the wind-chimes dangling off the dream-catcher and to hear their delicate clinking. The sound is as reassuring as ever, enough to banish cold thoughts and waking nightmares. I want to take it with me, just as I intend to keep the necklaces, but I resist; the loss of such a trinket would be noticed by my parents. Unlike the pendants, it was my father who bought the dream-net for me, after childhood gave way to youth and I was too old to still be disturbing by parents after every nightmare.

"What," A voice at the door stops my heart, "Are you doing?" My father is neither cold nor cruel but my fiery temper was inherited from him.

I step off the bed, moving slowly, a frightened child backing away from a snarling beast. He's caught me encroaching his territory and he is fuming beyond measure.

"I think it's time for you to leave." Each word is clipped short and sting like lashes of a whip. I wish in this moment that I can tell him the truth, just so that his anger can turn into relief. But I have made my choice.

"I didn't mean to offend you Sir, I just wanted to feel close to home," I explain, as best I can under the circumstances, "Selena is the only family I have and I feel... lost now that she's gone."

"Go home to your parents."

"They are gone too Sir, have been for a long time. When Selena spoke of you to me, I liked to pretend that we were sisters and that you were my parents too."

I'm making him uncomfortable, I know. I need him to see though, that I mean no harm. I need him to look at me with something other than a guarded annoyance.

"I think it's time for you and your boyfriend to leave."

He eyes my belly - which I tried to hide somewhat with a flowing top - with deep disapproval and waits by the door, insistent on following me out.

Releasing a choked breath, I file past him, trying to quash the sobs that attempt to escape.

Back at the lounge, I can't say I'm all that surprised to see that 'Ash' has already charmed my mother and sister with his good looks and infallible grace. My brother, on the other hand, looks ready to throw a punch.

Ash is laughing at something I must have missed while being ushered out of my own bedroom by my father. His laugh is subtle yet honest, his eyes crinkle at the corners on his borrowed face. The glamour he wears makes him appear younger than he looks in his true form but the sharpness in his eyes hints at a wisdom beyond that of face so young.

I believe that this is what makes my mother like him so, but it's also what has my father on edge. If we don't leave soon, I worry that he or my brother will snap and the last thing I want is either of them getting hurt trying to wrestle a demon.

"Thank you for your hospitality Mrs. Sastri," I say to my mum before dad can ask me to leave again.

"Oh you don't have to leave so soon sweetheart, we've only just met you! Selena would have wanted you to stay longer."

The others cringe when she says my name. It's all still too raw, too frank. But my mother believes that I'll be back soon, that I've run away. She's in a different stage of denial than my father. He believes that I need to be found before my captor kills me.

I insist that we go, watching my father shoot us daggers as Ash and I walk towards the door. It's time to leave them forever, but I can't bear the thought of ending it like this. The problem is, I don't know how to fix it.

Ash's hands twitch beside me, his back turned away from my dad. Something glints in the light but I miss seeing what he holds as he turns back toward my family.

"Mr. Sastri, I know this may seem inappropriate, however it was our intention to present this to you and your family upon our visit. It seems that Rowan has forgotten to mention this. You may not know us very well, though I assure you Selena does and it would mean everything to Rowan if you would be so kind as to attend our wedding in her steadtomorrow."

We all stand speechless as Ash hands my father a thin tablet of sorts. It's made out of a deep purple-blue stone - which I recognise as a star sunstone - with specks of sliver dotted throughout. It's as if he sliced a piece from the night sky and made it solid, carving words onto it to turn it into something unexpected.

"No." Dad answers, skimming over the words quickly before thrusting the invitation into my hands.

I look down at the thin stone slab and run my fingers over its face, smooth all over except where the words have been beautifully carved. It's addressed to 'Selena and Family', announcing the union of 'Ash and Rowan' and indeed boasting tomorrow's date. A surge of anger rolls through me. A fake wedding! This is not the way to extend my time with my family. It is cruel and deceitful; I've lied to my family enough already and I would rather not bastardise the sanctity of marriage just to steal a few more hours with them.