Page 2 of The Diávolos: Part Two
Iris immediately whips her head around to the classmate in question. She hadn’t even noticed the other girl when she’d walked in. To Iris’s tanned, brown skin and dark, curly hair, this girl is fair, even pale, with stark, blonde hair. She seems to be around the same age as Iris, maybe a little older. Her arms are crossed at her chest and her face is beet red, as if she’s been crying for hours. They’re quite a good distance apart, but Iris can still see the torment in her eyes.
“I’m Iris,” she says, breaking the silence.
“Lydia,” the girl responds. She uncrosses her arms and stands from her chair.
Iris nervously twists the hem of her dress. “How long have you been here? I mean, not in this classroom. Here, in this place.”
“A year.” Lydia shrugs. “Why did they bring you into this room?”
“I don’t know. The man told that woman to keep me apart from the others,” Iris explains.
Lydia walks around the desk and inches closer. When she reaches the front of the class, she sits on top of the teacher’s desk, now only a few feet away from her new classmate. Her legs dangle and she swings them back and forth. Iris stands still, not knowing what to say or do, but she’s finally calming down.She could be a friend, an ally.
“You’re one of us, then,” Lydia confirms.
Iris’s eyes narrow in confusion. She walks over to a desk and sits on the chair. “One of what?”
“A nun,” Lydia replies dismissively. This doesn’t help Iris’s incertitude whatsoever.
“Where are we?” Iris asks.
“At the Sisterhood. Welcome to Hell, sister.”
PART I
1
EVANDER
“While I watch you sleep, I dream.”
—Sneha Acharekar
There’s something so peaceful about watching someone sleep.
The vulnerability they show once they’re unconscious, entering a safe haven.
Standing above Angelica, I watch as her body relaxes into a deep lull.
Some might say it’s intrusive and creepy, but the closeness you feel to a person when they’re the most defenseless brings trust and tranquility. Everyone is holy and pure when they’re in a state of slumber.
The first six months we were apart, I left Angelica alone—for the most part. I only watched her as she headed home from the gym or after a late night out with her friends.
But I’ve found myself gravitating closer and closer. Being with her for those brief moments is not enough to satisfy my craving anymore.
Now, I visit Angelica at night and often catch her reliving whatever plagues her mind in her nightmares. But as soon as she subconsciously feels my presence near her, the tension she carries eases off.
Angelica’s breathing steadies. When I first walked into her bedroom, she seemed tormented, twitching as she dreamed.
Her body is spread out on the bed, one of her legs poking out of the blanket. Her wild hair fans over her pillow.
As I stand in the corner of her room, I yearn to touch her. I sit in the chair, careful not to make any noise, but Angelica still stirs. She’s never caught me in the act since I started coming into her apartment. Though, I know she’s aware of my presence in her subconscious.
On the occasions I’ve decided to lie next to her, just long enough to feel our breaths intertwine and our hearts beating as one, I know she realized it was me. I’ve never woken her up—but that changes tonight.
As I watch her sleep, looking like the most delectable angel, her body calls my name. I grunt internally as my eyes linger on her smooth, long legs, the slip-on dress she’s wearing barely covering them. My gaze travels up her body to where her chest rises and falls under the cover. I can picture her perky breasts and hard nipples poking through the fabric. Her soft lips are slightly agape, inviting me to nibble on them and stick my tongue into her mouth. My cock strains in my jeans.
Readjusting my posture on the seat, I push my palm against my crotch to relieve some of the pressure. But there’s only one way I’ll ever get relief tonight.
