Jack's sleep was plagued with images, each one more upsetting than the last. He found himself in a dark void, faces and figures swirling around him, their expressions twisted with malice.

"Look at you," a voice hissed, the tone dripping with contempt. "This is what you've become."

Jack clenched his fists, a surge of rebellion rising within him. "No," he muttered, trying to push the images away. "I can do more. I can be more than this."

But the Devil was relentless. Graphic scenes of his past, meaningless encounters, real mixed with illusory. A woman he bedded, then a demon feasting on raw flesh of an animal. A dance partner being seduced interposed with screaming souls embraced in fire. The images flashed before him like a grotesque slideshow, confusing him and dragging him back down.

"Don't fool yourself," the devil sneered. "This is who you are. This is all you'll ever be."

Jack's thoughts fought to rise above the onslaught. He envisioned himself writing stories with depth and meaning, tales that transcended the base desires that now defined his life. But each time, the devil countered with another image, another reminder of his degradation.

"You can't escape it," the devil whispered, its voice now a sinister caress. "This is where you belong."

Jack's resolve wavered. The weight of his past and the relentless assault on his mind began to crush his spirit. The urge to be better, to rise above his fallen state, was squelched under the barrage of lurid images and mocking laughter.

As he struggled, the scenes became more intense, more invasive, until he felt himself being pulled under, succumbing once again to the lower ethical self he so desperately wanted to escape.

The void closed in, and Jack's rebellion faded, replaced by a resigned acceptance of his own darkness. Before he fell completely this uneasy sleep was interrupted.

"Wake up!"

The calm but firm order reached him even in the deepest of sleeps. Nonetheless, his mind didn’t cooperate, and so his body stayed drowsily unawakened.

"Wake up!"

The voice was louder and managed to rouse him, so he tried to blink open his eyes. Thankfully, the woman he saw, disapprovingly peering down at him, hadn't opened the blinds to punish him. The room was still the dark coziness of drawn curtains, with only streaks of daylight finding their way in through tiny gaps.

He wouldn't have needed any light at all, though, to know Demi, even if they were in a completely dark room with hundreds of people. Their souls seemed to be intertwined in a way. Her depth called to him, and she was his pillar. He didn't know what his life would deteriorate into if it weren't for her. He didn't think he could handle everything without her. He would crash.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

"Get up!" She tapped him on his thigh this time. He mumbled disgruntled words he didn't really mean and turned over onto his back so that he was looking up at the ceiling.

"I want to sleep some more," he said like he was a child again. With Demi, really, he was allowed to be. He could let the boy, still in him, be cared for. "Please, go away."

"Not possible!" she said and turned on her heels. To his utter dismay, she did go to the blinds and then opened them. The early morning rays illuminating the room, "There's so much to do today."

He blocked his eyes from the intrusion of light and mumbled some more."My head wants more sleep. Jane and I were at it until very late." Jane... He wondered if she was still in the building. "Can't any of it wait?"

He turned his head to where she was, as she was approaching him from the window, but then the scowl on her face had him turning away from her. What had he done this time?

She folded her arms across her chest. "Where did you get that one?" she asked, her annoyance peeking through. "It took everything I had to get her to sign. She was furious and ended up cursing you until she left, one shoe in hand. She sure hated being made to feel powerless."

He blinked once, his interest in Jane's matter having died the moment he was finally satiated and took her to the guest room himself amidst her stubborn protests.

The only thing keeping her in his memory were the details of her he would need to recollect accurately in writing.

"What finally broke her back?" he asked dryly.

Demi shifted on her feet and finally presented him with a small smile. "You don't want to know..."

"Okay." He actually didn't want to know. "Where's the document?" he asked, choosing, rather, to concentrate on how gorgeous Demi looked. She was in a patterned blouse and high-waisted leather skirt with a slit up the thigh. He swallowed hard and kept his eyes on her face.

"In the file..." She answered. "With the others."

"Thank you so much, Demi," he said, overwhelmed. "Really, I was a mess without you."

She dropped her hands to her sides and came to him, sitting on the edge of the bed. He smelled her perfume and wanted it to be a part of his blood forever.

"I see the real you that others can't see, Jack," she said, her voice tender. "I have no choice but to do everything for you. Just for you and your own good."

"Thanks," he said, fighting to choke out the word through the tension in his throat.

She touched his cheek, and he almost melted. It was so warm and tender. "You were broken, and so was I; that's why I've always been patient with you. I help you as you help me. We need each other. We can’t help but function as one."

He put a hand over hers on his cheek. "And I don’t take it for granted. None of it. Everything you do means something to me... The women and meds you supply when I need an escape, the push to keep writing even when I’m frustrated, your excellent organization of my life and career... Everything. I owe you, Demi. I owe you my life, even."

"Ssssh!" She put a finger to his lips and held his gaze. "It's okay."

They stared at each other, their minds churning with emotion in the cool morning light, the usual sparks flying about.