Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 30560 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 153(@200wpm)___ 122(@250wpm)___ 102(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 30560 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 153(@200wpm)___ 122(@250wpm)___ 102(@300wpm)
"Oh." It's the best I can do, with how his words have me squirming while Paola starts watching me like my life has become her new favorite reality show.
And you, Sheena?
Have you thought of me at all?
"I have."
Several moments pass, and my heart starts pounding for some reason.
Do you remember what I told you yesterday?
"Um..."
I said we should talk about what you're going to call me.
Now that, I do remember, and I tell him so.
Have you any suggestions then?
Do you have any name in mind?
"What about Sir—-"
There you go surprising me again.
My eyes widen. How exactly have I surprised him? I kinda thought my suggestion would've been a no-brainer, since his disguised voice sounds more AI than human.
I never thought you'd be bold enough to suggest such a thing.
Huh? Did I hear him right? How can the name 'Siri' be bold in any way?
But I like it.
"I'm...glad?"
Sir.
"Um...what?"
I'm glad, sir.
You said you wanted to call me 'sir', didn't you?
You can start doing so now.
Holy. Holy. Crap.
I'm sure you'll find yourself more used to it with enough practice...
How do I tell him he's made a mistake?
Don't you think?
"Uh..."
Uh...what?
"I, um..."
I'm loathe to end this call until I hear you say it.
God, he's good.
I should've known the Devil would get what he wants one way or another, and since he'll always have the upper hand between the two of us—-
"I also think I'll, um...get better with practice...sir." My voice is barely audible when I finish, but Paola still hears this with how she's choking in her laughter.
Good girl.
And then the Devil abruptly hangs up, just as he promised...but this doesn't make me as happy as I thought it would.
What the heck is wrong with me?
Paola lets out a hoot as soon as she sees me put my phone down. "Oh my God, Sheen." She looks at me with a mixture of amazement and approval. "Who knew you had it in you to be kinky?"
#05
It's another restless night as thoughts of the Devil have me tossing and turning for ages, and having my years-old electric fan suddenly die on me only makes things worse. I'm hot and bothered in a non-sexual way, and frustration eventually gets me out of bed.
I might be too cheap to splurge on a dorm room with A/C, but one amenity that's been absolutely non-negotiable for me is having an en-suite with its own tub.
There's just nothing like a nice, cool, lavender-scented bath on a hot, humid night, and I set the timer as my eyes droop close.
My trusty analog clock goes off thirty minutes later, and it's when I'm back in my room and feeling light and fresh in my underwear (black and pink because I'm a huge fan of Jenny) that I remember to check my phone.
1 missed call.
That's when my whole world crashes on me as I click on my call log, and an unregistered number stares back at me from the very top of the list.
I'm dead.
I try calling the number even though a part of me already knows this won't do me any good, and all I get is an automated message that's easily summed up with just two words: you're dead.
I pace back and forth as I try calling the Devil's number again and again, but it's just no use, and I end up falling asleep on my desk.
My alarm goes off at 7:05 like it always does, but the thought of going to school doesn't even cross my mind. I try calling the Devil one more time—-
"The person you are calling is currently unavailable."
Well, that does it then.
I grab one of my notebooks and flip to a blank page.
Here begins the story of the idiot who lost her life because she fell asleep in the bath.
I feel like laughing and crying again. Should I at least be proud that I've managed to keep my sense of humor even though I know I could die at any moment? I wish I was exaggerating things really, but I've done my research on the Devil, and every single story about him says the same thing.
When the Devil grants you a favor, the Devil will ask one in return, and you are free to say no at the cost of your life.
There are no ifs or buts about this, and there absolutely isn't any exception—-
Riiiiiiing.
Oh God, it's the Devil calling.
I wish I could convince myself the Devil can't possibly be shallow enough to take my life for missing his call, but who says motives for killing sprees have to be valid?
Paola once told me about this girl who started shooting people simply because she hated Mondays, and considering how Lady Luck and I aren't exactly the best of friends...
Riiiiiiing.
My entire body feels like it's turned to ice again, and my fingers are shaking so badly I end up asking Siri to answer the call for me.