Page 1 of Hellish Fae
1
Possessive
Everyone has that little voice in the back of their minds that gives good advice like, don’t tell them that it’ll hurt their feelings, say thank you, and above all be kind.
Mine, it doesn't sayanyof that Hallmark shit.
Aries, you have drunken vomit in your hair. Again.
Aries, if you fantasize about unwrapping a Reese’s one more time, we're going to have to start considering it foreplay and fetish behavior.
Aries, it’s seven a.m., and your vibrator is still rattling around the blankets like a disgruntled lover searching for a warm mouth.
Yeah... I only get thereallygood advice from the cunt of a poltergeist at the back of my mind.
Because I'm possessed.
I fucked up one little time on a midnight run with the Shadow Guard, and now I’ll spend the rest of my days exiled into the human realm and left with my only and sweetest friend.
Aries, you’re snoring so loudly you’re going to wake the dead. Trust me, I am the dead.The bitter voice at the back of my mind keeps complaining, but my eyes crack open slowly, and it takes me a second to focus through the pounding hangover drilling into my thoughts.
A sliver of demanding sunlight judges me from the tilted hanging curtains on the angled rod on the far side of my bedroom.
“Alexa, what time is it?” I ask the human’s knowledge keeper.
A blue light illuminates the dimly lit room as a smooth digital voice answers me. “Three p.m. Eastern Standard Time, Bad Bitch.”
Alexa is truly taken for granted here. She knows everything. EV-ERY-THING. Do the humans thank her? No. Never. She’s as appreciated as I was in my kingdom.
Snort one little line of demonic cremations, get possessed, and try to burn down your kingdom’s forest for impulsive newfound religious beliefs—and all of a sudden, I’m an embarrassment to our people.
Whatever. I’m better off.
My poltergeist, my digital friend Alexa, and I don’t need them.
“Alexa, play a song,” I say groggily.
Heavy base storms through the room so loud that the dark blackout curtains dance. It shakes through my chest even. I won’t admit it, but the noise and the vibrations make me feel less alone…
“Thank you,” I mumble into my pillow.
“You’re welcome, Bad Bitch,” she says right back without emotion, but I can feel it. She’s always there for me.
She’s the only one I need, anyway.
I push off the mattress lying in the middle of the room, and my legs stumble over the mound of clothes with endless price tags still clinging to their threads.
The humans who own this beach house return in the warm months. I have a few more weeks of spring before I have to clean this place up and sneak out. I like pawing through their expensive clothes, though. It’s an easy way to pass the time.
Sometimes it feels as though all of this is mine. And I need all this stuff out where I can see it. It’s like décor really. It’s multipurpose: clothing and décor.
Win-win.
I smile down at my little hoard of blouses, jeans, and shiny necklaces. Then I slink right past it all in just my Daddy’s Girl shirt and panties and stumble into the bathroom. It’s my favorite worn-out shirt. Myfuck youshirt, if you will.
Not that anyone drops by my hidden-away coastal home in Mystic, Connecticut for me to flat out tell them “Fuck you,” to their faces, but... Karma knows, and that’s all that matters.
Hateful lights flicker on the moment my foot touches the warm tile floor. The harsh brightness of the room tries to wake me up, but the bottle waiting for me near the toilet fights off the violent colors stabbing into my vision.
