Chained to the prince of darkness by Lunasads (digital book reader .txt) 📕

  
 I jolted awake, my body screaming in protest at the sudden movement. Glancing at the alarm clock, I groaned into my bedsheets. It was just past three in the morning and I thought I deprived myself of sleep the last few days, that tonight I could fall into a dreamless pit of wonder. 

 Of course not. No, that would be too much nice, right? 
 I thought dryly. 

 Instead of trying to get back to sleep, I untangled myself from Mathew's hold. It was a good aspect for me that he was a deep sleeper. And I couldn't afford to wake him up this early when he had a busy schedule tomorrow. I combed through my frizzy brown locks lazily before jumping into my slippers and snatching my warm woolen shawl from under my pillow. 

 Slowly, almost like some ninja out of those horrible action movies, I inched my way down the stairs. Careful enough not to step on ones that would creak under my weight. Mathew's light snores sounded through the house. I rolled my eyes. He claimed he never snored but he was the main cause of my many sleepless nights. 

 Slipping outside onto my porch, a cool gust of wind blew past me and I shivered involuntarily. Goosebumps rose on the surface of my skin, but I paid no attention as I wrapped the thick fabric around myself. 

 The chilliness did its job, calming my nerves even if it was for the slightest. 

 A sigh escaped me as I looked at the black canvas above me, I admired its beauty even in the night. Nightfall was just another way of showing the beauty of something so dark. The irony is that the sun did not need to be out all the time to make everything else alluring in its state. Nighttime was just as beautiful, dare I say, much more peaceful altogether. Only in darkness could we glimpse the fullest light our soul carried for us. 

 I thought back to the night. 

 Two years ago, something was taken from me. I couldn't say my everything, but my reason to live. A large piece of me was taken though. A part of me I would never get back. Feeling pain when thinking about an experience was a fundamental part of our true nature. It never meant that our past was wounded or we were damaged goods, it just meant we were paying attention to painful thoughts and letting the pain convince us otherwise was what truly haunted us, not the past itself. 

 Then again dream was not fully a dream, but my memory. 
 My parents were murdered in cold blood. The soulless eyes of theirs still haunt my living. A part of me vanished with them that could never be mended again. Their demise affected me in ways that it was not fully describable, I was confident, I was brave, I was strong. 

 But after that, I was pathetic, I was scared, I was weak. 
 That night was all my fault. It happened because I wasn't cautious, I was a stubborn child. Only if, I wouldn't have thrown a tantrum about wanting strawberry ice cream in the middle of the night, they would've been still alive. 

 I closed my eyes tightly, not willing myself to cry. I made myself several promises that I wouldn't cry over this. One is, I would never shed a damn tear feeling guilty. I decided to blame it on destiny, a cruel idea to lessen my pain, my suffering but little I knew, it would only add fuel to the fire of my tranquility. 

 I couldn't remember anything of that night, except the lifeless bodies of my parents and those strange crimson eyes. I barely had any memory after that. 

 Sometimes, I think that I had imagined those eyes because when my consciousness was returned Falcon was beside me. He had bandaged my wrists, that I had sliced open my wrists with a razor blade from my father's shaving kit. I couldn't ask him anything because all I could do was hear. 

 He had managed to give me a little peace of mind that night. 

 A friend in need is a friend indeed. 

 He was a friend I had spent all my childhood with. 

Through our highs and lows, we remained with each other. His happiness became mine, my sorrows became his. 
 Sharing is caring, they said. Unless it's time for us to share our nightmares. 

 A sigh left my lips as I glanced up at the sky, the slight light color somehow managed to make its way all through the beautiful canvas, telling me it was time to go inside. A quick look at the time let me know it was almost five in the morning. 

 I should make some coffee. 

 "Come on! You're gonna be late." I heard my boyfriend, Mathew, shout from downstairs. I rolled my eyes applying layers of concealer under my eyes before blending it. The dark circles underneath quickly vanished as I had just waved a wand of wonder and BOOM! Plum, glossed lips stretched into those fake smiles I often wear during office hours and public meetings. I gave a self-approving nod to my reflection before grabbing my bag and bounding down the stairs. 

 "At last, come to have breakfast." Mathew threw his hands up like the melodramatic man he was. I just shot him a teasing grin and stuck my tongue out at him. He rolled his eyes, "So childish." He murmured under his breath, though a playful glint sparkled in those pale green eyes. Mathew was a man who was naturally blessed with beauty, his high rose cheekbones added a pinch of rugged essence to his manliness, the soft-looking sandy hairs complimented his beautiful tan skin. 

 The aquiline nose he sported complemented his prominent cheekbones. Handsome in an understated way, his basalt jaw and Spartan shoulders spoke of strength. He possessed a latent, leonine power and always walked with purpose and authority. 

 A small smile somehow danced on my face. 

 I was lucky to have him by my side. 

 With rushed steps, I walked towards the chair he had already pulled out for me. The sweet aroma of pancakes filled my nostrils and I didn't think twice before devouring the sponginess of pancakes. Like always, he had spread honey syrup all over.