She growls in frustration—an adorable attempt at intimidating me—when a twig snaps under my boot. It spurson my demon, igniting the urge to follow, chase, possess. I tell myself to chill, but Lor increases her pace, and that has the opposite effect. My heart rate cranks up and a light sheen of sweat breaks out on my forehead.
I have no idea where her head is at, or mine for that matter. My speed increases to match hers, and a thrill of anticipation zips through my chest.
I grimace, fighting my instincts and rubbing my chest in an effort to quell the overwhelming impulses. They’re getting too strong, exacerbated by my being in her presence and her actively trying to evade me.
Lor leaps onto her bike, barely securing her bag before revving the engine and taking off in a cloud of dust. I jump onto my own bike, my demon riding me hard. It’s far too close to the surface at this point, making my movements and speed much more reckless than I’d normally give in to.
My demon keeps a steady pace behind her and I have to remind myself to blink, to breathe. My fists are clenched around the handlebars, my entire body rigid with anticipation, and my eyes fixed to her back. Her hair streams out behind her since she didn’t take the time to secure it before trying to escape me, and it’s a beacon too tempting to resist. My lips pull up in a snarl and I clench my teeth, desperate to rein it in.
I’m losing control.
I wrestle with my demon, and it’s like I’m fighting myself. I try to turn the bike off the path, yelling inside my own head for my arms to twist, but nothing happens. I recite my mantra, telling myself over and over, “no more stealing, no more fires, no killing” but it doesn’t do any good.
It’s like one half of me is agreeing with those words, perfectly happy to follow that path, but another half of me is completely disconnected and doing whatever it wants. Unfortunately, that’s the part that’s in control.
I’m a prisoner in my own body.
My eyes dart around, frantically searching for any other outlet, but there’s nothing I can safely light on fire out here and no one to steal from, apart from her.
Right as I’m preparing to attempt to throw myself from the seat to avoid whatever hell my demon is dragging me into, Lor brakes hard. Her bike swings around, skidding through the dirt and pluming dust into the air as she pulls to the side in a 180 and faces me.
My pulse hammers in my chest, her actions having startled my demon, further throwing my mind and body into chaos.
I slam the brakes, adding to the dust in the air and my back tire swings out, fishtailing for a moment before I come to a stop just feet from her. Lor yanks her helmet off and her grey eyes flash in the sun.
I had never put mine back on. I’m hoping it’s still secured to the back of my seat or I’ll have to get a new one. We stare at each other, both of us panting, our eyes locked. My demon struggles for control and I wrestle with it, locking up every muscle in my body.
Her face is flushed and there’s a sheen of sweat on her brow. Lor’s pulse jumps in her neck, pulling my gaze. I want to suck the delicate skin between my teeth and abuse it until she’s a writhing, moaning mess beneath me.
Whoa.
I shake my head, averting my gaze and trying to get a grip. I release my bike and flex my hands in my gloves, then roll my shoulders while sucking in deep breaths to release some of the tension.
It’s only been a few minutes, but it feels like hours since my demon decided to turn what was a fun game into a terrifying loss of control. I suck in a slow breath, holding it in my lungs as I fight for calm, then release it in a controlled stream.
When I look back up, Lor is off her bike, pacing back and forth. Five steps, turn, five more steps, turn, glare at me, five steps. Another glare. I heave in another breath, sucking air into lungs that feel starved, and finally move.
I swing off my bike, and before my second boot hits the ground, Lor is shouting.
“Stopfollowing me. Stop, just stop!” Her hands are clenched into fists at her sides, vibrating with concealed tension, and my chest constricts with regret. I speak before I can think better of it.
“I can’t.” My voice is hoarse, full of regret and shame, and I have to force the words out. “I’vetried.”
I rake both hands through my hair, tugging as my body movements mirror hers. We’re both pacing, stomping with anger and frustration and fear. A bead of sweat trickles down the center of my back, and I try to take a calming breath. It shudders in and out of my lungs. I squeeze my eyes shut, clench my jaw, and turn my head to the sky.
I don’t know what to do.
The thought derails me. It takes all the wind out of my sails, and the tension drains from my body. I slump to the ground, folding my arms over my knees and resting my head on my forearms.
I hear Lor’s pacing stop, but she doesn’t come any closer or say anything.
“I think even my therapist has given up on me,” I say, my words devoid of emotion, spoken as a mumbled fact to the ground below me. My demon kicks inside my chest, an uncomfortable jolt of disappointment and shame.
Her boots crunch once, twice, three times as she steps toward me.
“Your…” she starts, then trails off.
I can feel her eyes on me, trying to pick me apart and figure me out.Good luck.
