Daemon.

I dragged myself out of bed and headed to the shower. The cold water refreshed my thoughts slightly. Now I knew that I needed to go see Diana again.

After the shower, I was greeted with a cup of strong coffee and dinner. I drank coffee but had no desire to eat a thing, so I ignored the food.

Seymour squinted seeing the pristine dish.

"We need to find out where she lives," he stated in an interrogative tone.

"I'm not sure she remained in the same apartment," I told him.

"It's time to find out. Let's go."

We hopped into Seymour's car since mine was still at the restaurant parking lot.

"Address?" he inquired.

I recalled the proper address without straining my memory.

We drove in silence. I actually didn't want to talk. I was anxiously hoping Diana was still living in the same apartment we had rented. At the same time, I prayed that she would not be the cause of my current state of madness.

We arrived within half an hour. For almost 2 years, I have diligently avoided this particular area. When we walked into the yard, I began drowning in memories.

Here, I'm returning from work and messaging Diana if I should buy anything from the store. And now I'm heading upstairs, unlocking the door, and I discover her in the dim light, dressed in bloody tempting underwear and stockings. I adored her surprises.

Strange, why did I quit surprising her? I also stopped presenting her flowers, even on holidays. She was attempting to interact with me, asking what was bothering me. I was annoyed and kept complaining about how exhausted I was at work. Hmm... As if she wasn't working... And then I performed something really dumb, went frustrated, and left her without even attempting to resolve the matter.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Yes, indeed, I am certainly a moron.

The sunset began. We were standing beneath the windows of the flat, which I considered 'home' for over a year. It was dark in the apartment, which indicated no one was there.

"We'll wait," Seymour murmured, pulling me away from the building's entrance to a little alley where we sat on a bench.

The wolf inside me was pacing in circles and whining continuously. I was keen to moan. Seymour tried to distract me with a work-related conversation, implying that my situation was overly noticeable. The responses were inappropriate since my gaze remained on the building's metal front door.

How should I act if she shows up here? Should I rush to her at full speed? Or come up and say "Hi! Long time, no see"?

Well, I didn't think about it in advance. And unintentionally I was incapable of engaging in any sort of mental activity. As an outcome, I turned to an individual who at the moment had greater common sense.

"What should I do if she appears?"

Seymour observed my dismal appearance.

"Nothing. For now. First, we need to make sure that it relates to her, and then we will investigate what is going on with you."

It's easier said than done. If the same thing happens again, I'm not sure I can hold back and won't rush to her.

Seems Seymour had read my mind, he exclaimed, "Don't even think of it! If all you told me was true, she has every right to murder you in place."

As if I wasn't aware of it myself… I glanced at the metal door again. I'm not sure what amount of time has passed since we were here. Even being here is difficult for me. Memories rolled one after another.

I knew she'd changed her mobile number. I called her once, long ago, while inebriated. An unfamiliar female voice answered the phone and informed me that I had dialed the wrong number. I was angry with myself for giving in to weakness and contacting Diana.

That night, after leaving the pub, I accidentally pushed a tall guy. Instead of apologizing, I was rude to him. A fight began. I knew he was stronger than me, but I wasn't determined to give up. I needed to pour out my rage.

The guy broke up greater, and for some reason, he began to roar. I knocked him to the ground and attempted to squeeze his throat with my forearm.

The movement wasn't nearly perfect, and I felt a searing pain below my elbow. He tossed me away and jumped up sharply staring in horror at how I was rising wincing in pain. I didn't instantly realize what had happened. Looking at the blood on the wound, I suspected he had bitten me.

Seriously? A bite?

I smirked and walked in the opposite direction. After catching the first taxi that came along, I drove to the bachelor flat I was renting and started examining the wound in the bathroom. Despite being drunk, I noted the bite was strangely large, with deep and sharp imprints of teeth. After treating the wound with disinfectant and bandaging it, I fell asleep.

I woke from intense heat and anguish. I felt as if something was twisting me inside out, and I could barely make it to the bathroom. Cold showers and drinking water were ineffective. I spent the night travelling between the kitchen and the bathroom, and in the morning I awoke on a chilly tile next to the toilet.

"What had I drunk that I felt so intoxicated?" I debated scraping myself off the floor.

Fortunately, it was my day off. I spent the entire day lying in bed, only waking up to have some water.

At night someone knocked on my door.