Home is where the heart is. If that is true then my heart must be six-feet under the ground that I am stood on, encased in dirt whilst I am caged within his arms. I can feel his eyes but I do not see them, I see my future, a torrent of suffering and indescribable torture awaits me if I do not run. I cannot run and that’s what solidifies the certainty of it all. Another agonizing tug of war plays out within my mind, death vs. slavery. The pull for each is a strong, valiant effort, I do not root for any team, I know the winner already.

Defeat, conquest, destruction.

The fight will never truly leech for my muscles, it will always be a shadow in the mists but it will not give up without a fight. And neither will I even if I have already resided to my fate.

“No, I refuse; you cannot do this to me,” I writhe and I kick, deep inside I know it is of no use but I try none the less. It is inevitable now, my destiny a sealed envelope on its way to Grim Reaper. I would die eventually before my time, if not now when he takes me.

Take me to where you ask? Home. Not a small town house with the white picket fence, the children playing with the golden retriever. Not with a mother cooking in the kitchen and a father working on his car in the garage. Home was the imperial courthouse, the dome encompassing the bedimmed, bittersweet sky, large courtrooms transformed into carcinogenic bedchambers. A base for the satanic squadron, teaming with treacherous battalions of hell born creations.

The angels of hell are obviously incapable of achieving simple goals, forcing humans to do their biddings as they prepare for a war that is not worth fighting. Slaves are saved humans, they remain alive until their value becomes worthless, they grow old or become weak, their bodies but mere possessions to these execrable creature.

And I would soon be one of them.

Demonic laugher, once again, fills my ears but I do not stop, I am not expendable, I am human and I have worth! As I stand here in withered clothing and matted skin. I wish for once that I had listened. Do not follow it, they would say, the uncertainty is not worth your life. The road held the tale of mysterious allure, roads were few and far between, they lead somewhere and more often than not to a place of sanctuary or nutrition. It lead to neither, it lead to my sacrifice, my unnecessary immolate.

“Just let me go,” my fight has deserted me; I am left limp against his chest, quivering against the mental barrage. The images are not picturesque. They are eerie, mortifying collages of misery and anguish.

“Now, darling, you know I can’t do that.” A pet name. That is soon what I would become, a pet. A material thing to this abomination. The rules were clear cut to the demon, you find a human you have two options: Massacre or vassalage. I do not get a choice, he chooses for me.

I will not show weakness, the emotions shall not escape my eyes and meander down my defiled flesh. I will stand as tall as I can, not proud but defiant. Small rebellions, small acts of disobedience. Let me go down alone, let my legs give way and my body give out as my mind stays strong, undefeated and revolutionary. I will not be the one to kick-start the revolt but by God will I try. As that is all I will be able to do, when all else is broken, my bones, my veins, my mentality shall resonate.

His incandescent contact begins to shift, a swift movement, a transfer from waist to wrist, improvised handcuffs, rope-bound bondage. Tied to my doom. I have no physical resistance left in me, he grins, he thinks I have accepted defeat, little does he know. I do not meet his eyes nor do I express any emotions, there is nothing for him to prey on, my own irises are a void, a pit of darkness, blank as plain paper. I will not give him the satisfaction.

“Come on then,” and he tugs, I’m a dog on a leash, or so I’ll have him believe. I’ll trail beside him like a lost puppy, my tail still and my head down. I will not bark at my master’s words, I will not sniff at passing trees. I will follow like the complaisant little pup I am meant to be. And I will behave.

Until he turns his back.

It strikes me that I have yet to acquire his name to my word bank, it mostly taken up with names that should be long forgotten. I wonder if I will ever know, will I ever need to know, will he prefer “Sir” or “Master”? Oh wait a minute let me bow down to you oh-mighty demon for I am nothing but a disposable human, a lesser being to yourself, I think not.

I am too far lost into my sarcastic tangent I don’t even take into account that we are following the road, the haze dissipating the further we walk my hands still tightly within you scorching grasp. The auburn haze swirls around us, it tint much darker than when our journey first began, it was the only sign of nightfall approaching.

I haven’t the faintest idea where “home” is, I hope for its hasty arrival. My feet tire as does my body, fatigue setting in as my energy dwindles away with each passing arduous step. He seems to be perpetually egotistic, the smirk not yet leaving his face, that gorgeous and damnable face. If only he would release my wrist so that I could punch that beautiful face. That sadistic, sinful smirk that I could just kiss right off.

I need to stop this, this teenage style longing; it was doing me no good. It will only bring you harm, I thought to myself. Steady thoughts, no feelings, survival is your main objective. An unrealistic objective if I have ever heard on.e No human survives this take over. None.

It looms over the skyline, a hawk amongst the rubble, tall and untouched, archaic and angelic. Unlike its inhabitants. There are rapid shadows spilling from within the building, none are around long enough for me to catch an amble glance at any, they’re all just blurred nothingness in the fast approaching evening, the light beginning to lapse as it sets behind the dust think clouds.

Its pillars are long since cataclysm stained, there once white appearance now tarred with thick black death. The clouds swirls dense and black above our heads as if they themselves can sense the infernal aura about this place. The ceilings are high, the place bustling with beings buzzing around from here to there. Spared glimpses are all I am given, normal protocol to most, if not all. A few ugly sneers and one or to devilish laughs are thrown my way, my face a picture of hopelessness, a lost cause, already broken in their eyes.

His grip tightens as we pass one of his kind, midnight hair and glinting lips, tall and thin, much like my capturer. His hands are in his pockets and he is nonchalant enough in my eyes.

A long hallway runs before us, each side decorated with multiple doors, all solid wood and brass numbers. Dead plants sit on forgotten tables, decaying at their own free will. At least they have free will.

Number 42. My prison cell. I am treated like a prisoner, thrown into the room like I am the criminal between the two of us. My handcuffs are retracted, my body flung to the over-sized bed, door slammed with no remorse.

He licks his lips and I bite mine .Hungry eyes fall upon me, that hellish sneer with bedroom eyes.

Notes

Wow I got such fantastic comments the last time I updated I couldn't wait to do it again. I know it's confusing to begin with and I am sorry but it will all pan out nicely I hope.

The courthouse is based off the Law Courts Of Brussels if anyone is interested.

Thank you to all for all the comments recommendation and subscription but most of all thank you for all the reads.

I would be super happy if you please commend they make me smile and want to update more often xoxo