Demon Stories

Saya: The Moon's Other Half, 1731, France

Saya

The Moon's Other Half

1731, France

What are you thinking when you dismantle them?

What thoughts are going through your head?

The first time you ripped someone apart, I stared on behind you and the world felt surreal. This can not be happening, I thought just to myself, for it was betrayal of everything I knew about you. My stomach started to hurt as you slipped the pink from his body, and as my stomach convulsed and I dry heaved, you did not even look at me. 

Your mind was nowhere near me, and it terrified me more than I thought it would.

The idea of the kill took you away from me, and the actual kill kept you there. You forgot about me the moment you put your hands on him, and it didn't matter if I was there or wasn't there. 

To me, the idea that you could care more about something so terrible takes me away from you. My heart sickens, crumples up and it can not be unshriveled up. 

Are you listening? Are you there?

I tried to tell myself it wasn't real until I saw it. Even though you came home dripping in their blood, I thought it had to be from something else. What something, I didn't care to know, but it had to be something else. It couldn't be real how you would do such a thing as kill them, and in such a way.

I understand that we must subsist on something. Just not in this way. Must we be cruel this way? Must you be? 

I can not be mad at you. Just disappointed, sad, sickened.

Even now, you sit on the windowseat upstairs and stare up at the moon. It is a half moon, and I wonder if it wonders where its other half is. I wonder where my other half is. 

What are you thinking now? Am I anywhere near your mind? Are you thinking about what you did, is there any remorse at all? Or is he just something to subsist on to you? Do you not think of him as a human being, someone with a life and a home?

I terrify myself sometimes because of the possibility that you might not think of the people around as the living just like us. They love, just like us. 

But no matter how terrified I become, my love for you can not diminish. No matter how disgusted I get, no matter how saddened, or even how much I cry, I can not get myself to stop loving you. I can not get away, and that terrifies me, too.

I long for you to come downstairs and sit with me. Sit across the table from me and talk about normal things. Take my hands and talk to me about how it rained today, the warm rain. Mispronounce my name and tell me something sweet in my language. 

Please stop smelling like the evil odor of the inside of his body. Please stop staring out of the window. Please come back as the moon's other half will come back.