Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 30540 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 153(@200wpm)___ 122(@250wpm)___ 102(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 30540 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 153(@200wpm)___ 122(@250wpm)___ 102(@300wpm)
Hello Sheena.
"Hello, sir."
You've been writing for quite some time.
I should have expected this, shouldn't I?
But I didn't, and so the realization that he's been watching me for 'quite some time' has my heart dropping to my stomach.
What exactly are you writing?
"Um..."
Now would be the worst time for you to lie.
Even though the Devil still sounds like a male-voiced robot, the warning still sends shivers down my spine, and the whole truth comes tumbling out.
"I'm writing goodbye letters to my parents and friends."
I see.
"But I didn't mention you in any of them, I swear."
I didn't think you would.
This feels like my only chance to make a last-ditch effort to save my neck, and the words just come rushing out.
"I'm so sorry I missed your call, sir." I still remember how I initially struggled calling him that, but now all I'm thinking is how I'd be happy to call the Devil 'sir' for the rest of my life.
That did come as a surprise to me.
"I'm so sorry again, sir. I know it's no excuse, but I fell asleep in the bath—-"
That doesn't sound safe.
I suppose he's right, but...it's not like I'm a stranger to danger at this point, being indebted to the Devil and all.
"I'm so sorry again," is all I can think of saying in the end. "I'm really, really sorry, sir—-"
You do sound sincere.
"I am!"
But...
Oh dear God, why is there always a 'but' when you least want it?
I can't let you off simply because you apologized.
My rules are not only there for people to trust me.
They're also there for people to fear me.
You understand, don't you?
My eyes squeeze shut. If he's really intent on killing me, then the most I can hope for is a quick, painless death, and since I won't get that by lying—-
"I...do."
Ah, Sheena.
I remember too late that I should've just said 'yes' the moment I hear the Devil say 'ah' in that strange monstrously alien voice of his.
You do love to say those two words, don't you?
My cheeks darken as I remember what the Devil's been inclined to think when hearing said two words. "I'm not doing it deliberately—-"
I know.
But as much as I find those words charming when you say them...
His voice trails off gradually, but its effect is instantaneous. I'm having a hard time breathing again, and my heart is also racing triple time because I know.
Of course I know what he's thinking—-
"Please, sir."
And I'm not opposed to begging.
"I'm sorry."
He doesn't say anything, and my stomach starts to cramp as the silence between us gnaws louder. Rays of sunlight have lazily streaked into my room through the windows, but fear has made me blind to its bright, golden rays. Hopelessness has blanketed my world with darkness, and when the silence becomes too much to bear, I hear myself blurting out my worst fear.
"Are you going to kill me?"
Do you think I'm capable of doing that?
"Yes." There's no point denying the obvious, and just hearing my own voice crack makes me feel all the more terrified.
Smart girl.
And let's not forget intriguing as well.
I'm already praying even before he's done speaking.
Dear God, if you heard me wish to 'un-intrigue' myself in the Devil's eyes...could You maybe just 'un-hear' that instead?
Which is why, instead of killing you—-
Oh, thank You, God, thank You.
Anything's better than getting killed.
I'll need you to do something for me instead.
Oh, crap.
#06
I've had the Devil in my life long enough by now to know that it's absolutely no coincidence when my phone rings the exact time I reach the address he's texted me.
Riiiiiiing.
It's my first time using wireless buds, and I don't realize my volume needs adjustment until I nearly go deaf as my phone starts blaring out directly to my ear.
Ouch!
Never putting my cellphone on silent is the Devil's new rule, but since I don't like having people look at me because of my phone ringing, I'll need to quickly get a hang of these stupid wireless things before I go deaf.
Riiiiiiing.
I fumble for the controls, and I barely avoid missing the Devil's call for the second time.
Cutting it quite close, aren't we?
"I'm sorry, sir."
Ring the doorbell, please.
I do as asked, and the Devil thanks me in his usual disguised voice. I still find it surreal how the Devil seems to have the loveliest manners every time he talks to me on the phone, but maybe this, too, is part of his plan to keep me from ever regaining my bearings. It's hard to remember he's a cold-blooded killer when he's being so gentlemanly.
My uneasy gaze swings back to the three-story building in front of me. Black slate walls, heavily tinted windows, and double steel doors that make me feel I'm about to enter a vault. But since there's no commercial signage that points to it being a bank, curiosity eventually gets the better of me, and I hear myself ask, "Is this someone's house?"