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Insecure

Gwen

T he fucker left.

Gwen wasn’t sure why she was surprised.

If Ambrosius wasn’t shooing her out of his antique store, then he was running once he had his fill of fucking with her.

But to leave immediately after blowing her mind with his demon tongue felt…

Shitty. The word is shitty, Gwen.

It soured the pleasant buzz Gwen had been wrapped in, watching Ambrosius fade to mist before disappearing completely.

Surely anyone else would have thought they were going crazy if they saw that.

Or any of the weird shit Gwen had seen during sex—granted, not all of it was necessarily bad.

Gwen covered her face, rolling to her side with a groan.

Okay, so, attraction was rightfully weird.

It had always been weird for Gwen.

There had never been a real pattern outside of Gwen bonding with her future boyfriends quickly.

Gwen would think she was in love, sex would happen, and then eventually things would fall apart like they always did.

That was honestly the only through line Gwen could think of.

However, it didn’t explain the yearning she felt for a demon who was the literal stuff of nightmares.

“Is this because of the bargain?” Gwen grumbled into her sheets.

“Am I scared-horny for him because of that?”

Shame warmed her face at the thought of being so weak willed against him.

Hadn’t the point been to stop this from happening again?

Yet the minute he had pressed his lips to hers, Gwen had fallen apart.

He could have asked anything of her at the moment, and she would have agreed.

Kill your neighbor, Gwen, and I’ll let you come on my face.

Sure, boss, I’ll get right on that.

“Fuck.”

This was a mess.

A huge fucking mess, and Gwen couldn’t think of any way out of it.

She was a warlock, foolishly wanting the attention of demon she cared about—

Gwen shot up, towel finally falling into her lap as shock hit her like a bucket of ice to the face.

She didn’t dare repeat the fleeting thought.

In fact, Gwen quickly buried the feeling as she rushed toward her bathroom, completely naked.

She turned the faucet on, splashing her face with cold water and gasping at her waterlogged reflection.

“You didn’t just think that,” Gwen told her reflection.

“You aren’t that desperate!”

Her reflection didn’t answer so much as twitch, making her pause.

Slowly, Gwen moved her right hand, only to see her reflection hold up her right hand as well.

Not a mirror, so much as an animated copy with a crazed grin and large, glossy eyes.

“You really are losing it,” Gwen murmured to herself, to her reflection.

Her reflection winked, before resting her chin in her hands and gazing at Gwen like she was an animal in a cage.

Like Gwen was meant to amuse her reflection, that was the only way she could describe it.

“I—We don’t have feelings for him,” Gwen firmly told her reflection.

“We can’t .”

The mirror version of herself blinked, taking in the information.

When she met Gwen’s gaze again, she staunchly shook her head and beamed at her.

Her canines were sharp, eyes aglow like neon diner lights, and skin an awful gray tone.

It was offset by the shimmery blue eyeshadow and eyeliner, lips a bright doll-like pink.

She was still smiling at Gwen.

The sudden crack in the mirror sent Gwen a step back.

When she looked at the mirror again, she appeared normal, even with the fragmented pieces.

Get out, Gwen thought.

We—I need to get out of here.

Gwen left the bathroom after hurriedly cleaning up, ignoring the spiders that had crawled to the floor.

She didn’t step on them, but they were quick to clear a path for her.

The subtle movement coming from the pile of dirty clothes she had left on the Fourth of July made her move faster.

Gwen changed quickly into the underwear she had ordered online.

She had found the box waiting on her doorstep the night before.

A simple pink, silky set that nearly color matched the yarn outfit she had crocheted days ago.

That seemed to cinch her decision—well, that and the high summer temperatures—and Gwen shrugged the crochet outfit on.

It fit like a dream, like something out of one of the old 90’s movies she had been obsessed with as a teenager.

The skirt was long enough to cover Gwen’s belly button, but was definitely not a skirt she could bend over in.

That didn’t stop Gwen from doing just that as she snagged the old pair of roller skates hidden at the back of her tiny closet.

They were obnoxiously Y2K, plastic and see through, with pink glitter hearts on the inside.

The wheels were also transparent, and if Gwen recalled correctly, they lit up when she used to go down the sidewalk.

It had been years since she used them, but they fit like Gwen had never stepped out of them, and she was quick to find her footing.

She checked her appearance with her phone and frowned.

The same makeup her reflection had worn was somehow on her now.

“Fuck, get out of the apartment, Gwen,” she singsonged to herself with an edge of hysteria.

She snagged a small mini backpack from the back of her closet.

It was worn, covered in old anime patches, but it suited the hands-free approach Gwen was hoping for.

She tossed the contents of her purse into it and paused as she eyed the doll and scroll case by her nightstand.

For a doll without a face, Gwen sure felt like it was staring at her.

“Fine!” Gwen grumbled, snatching the doll.

“You can come, too.”

Maybe Gwen really was losing her mind.

It was difficult not to think it as she shoved the doll and scroll case into the backpack and scurried out of her apartment.

It would at least explain the paranoia Gwen felt as she approached the elevator .

Has nothing to do with your dead neighbor, I’m sure, Gwen thought as she pulled a pair of sunglasses from her backpack and shoved them onto her face.

Two days. Her neighbor had been dead for two days, and not a damn person had noticed.

Gwen wasn’t sure if that said something about her neighbor or society as a whole.

Not that Gwen was exactly the right person to judge.

She had been the one to murder him, after all, and she wasn’t exactly offering up to call the authorities herself.

Even with the aid of her newfound power, Gwen wasn’t exactly confident in her ability to bullshit with the police.

A lot of things weren’t in the cards for Gwen anymore, including the mundane existence she had been coasting in a week ago.

Predictability had been a bit of a creativity killer, if Gwen was honest with herself.

The moment her skates hit the pavement, Gwen was off with no idea where she was going and not a care about it.

It was so very different from her usual routine, but Gwen found the idea of getting lost freeing.

Plus, I can get my mind off of my creepy haunted place and hot demon tongues.

She skated past the familiar neighborhoods, until she entered less familiar ones.

Gwen did circles as she listened to Marina and the Diamonds, electro pop blaring in her ears .

As the summer heat climbed, Gwen felt the soft tickle of sweat accumulating on her skin.

Gwen was very thankful in her fashion choices, even if it meant dealing with the occasional—

Gwen nearly groaned when a white pickup truck came to crawl on the road next to her.

It wasn’t as massive as some of the other trucks on the road, looking no different than a basic moving rental with a flatbed.

Her finger was ready to jump to the volume on her phone when the passenger window rolled down .

And here we go—

“Hey, you need a ride?”

Gwen didn’t even spare the nobody man a look, but she could feel the vomit inducing arousal rolling off him like poorly concealed body odor.

She wasn’t sure what was worse, this stranger pathetically hitting on her or the interruption to Bubblegum Bitch.

Gwen debated circling back, but she had played this bullshit game before.

There was a chance the truck would just follow, unless Gwen managed to find a bus stop with the actual bus waiting for her.

A bus running on time in Everett was a miracle on its own.

“Nah, I’m good!” Gwen shouted over the music.

“You sure, baby?”

“Yup!”

“Look, whore— ”

The man wasn’t much to look at as Gwen abruptly closed the distance, hand landing on the passenger door.

His disheveled appearance—including neon work vest and filthy pants—made it clear to Gwen that he worked in construction.

What an awful cliche.

The man driving looked surprised, but it passed quickly for something Gwen did not give two shits about.

No, her attention was solely on the asshole who dared to insult her.

“I’m looking,” Gwen said, lowering her sunglasses.

“Now what?”

The man fumbled for a moment before clumsily gathering what little wits he had.

Gwen could feel the spike of arousal and artificial confidence.

It tasted like three-day old gas station sushi.

“You dress like that to get—”

“Just to turn on men. You dress like a slut. Are your tits real? Let me touch them. How much for the night? I bet you ride real good. Do you need a sugar daddy? Where’s your pimp? If you lost some weight, I’d fuck you. Smile, bitch,” Gwen smiled, an uncomfortably wild thing.

“Should I go on or do you have something new to offer?”

The discomfort that started rolling off of both of them felt a lot better.

Gwen could almost taste it on her tongue.

Her mouth started to water, the veins in her body pulsating in anticipation.

But as enticing as those flavors were, Gwen kept her attention on the arousal as a wonderfully horrible idea blossomed in her mind.

Gwen bent low enough that they could see the curve of her breasts more.

Predictably, both of the men took the bait.

Gwen felt the heavy perfume of lust float from both of them.

It wasn’t appetizing in the slightest—it smelled like boiled eggs, but tasted like a buttered popcorn candy.

The flavor almost made Gwen gag, but she forced it down.

With some unseen force of will, Gwen ushered the emotions into her stomach.

She couldn’t explain how, only that once she could wrap her finger around it, Gwen didn’t stop.

Every bite was swallowed with every subtle shift of her body and an easy smile.

When there was nothing left, Gwen could see a dullness to their eyes that hadn’t been there before.

It was a lot like watching a star go out in the night sky.

They both looked completely drained, the sort of hollowness that came from life truly dragging you down.

Gwen wouldn’t be surprised if they were one intersection away from getting into a car accident.

“The thing they don’t tell you men, is you really should be careful who you hit on,” Gwen breathed as she leaned in closer.

When she blinked, her eyes were alight with an unnatural cyan glow and her teeth were a little sharper.

“There’s a lot of weirdos out there, and I happen to be one of them. The next time you think you’re important enough to ruin a woman’s day—or any fucking stranger on the street—you will live to regret it.”

Neither spoke, but Gwen suspected they couldn’t.

They were too exhausted to speak, but she could feel the discomfort had doubled.

Fear, anxiety, and uncertainty had taken the place of the missing arousal.

Gwen only hoped she had eaten enough of their sexual desire that neither of the men would feel it for some time.

Or better yet, she hoped whenever they felt it, they’d think of her .

The idea of becoming a man’s complex—or better yet, trauma—made her feel warm and fuzzy inside.

If this is evil, I’m cool with it, Gwen thought.

“Be safe out there,” Gwen said cheekily, with a wink and a burp.

“See ya, bitches.”

While the men were in their hazy stupor, Gwen ducked into a side street and skated as fast as she could.

She felt energized, a rush of a high that Gwen was starting to recognize came from not only eating emotions, but from scaring the people she was eating.

It added another layer to the already complicated art that was her haunted life, but Gwen figured she could deal with it later.

As Gwen looped around a corner and onto a street, she was surprised to find herself on Rockerfeller.

She was about seven blocks from the antique store, which meant…

“Everything comes back to you, doesn’t it?” Gwen sighed.

“It’s not fair.”

Nothing that had happened since she met Ambrosius had been fair or good.

Even if Gwen felt better than ever as a monster, it didn’t change the fact that she was vulnerable to the demon.

Ambrosius held all the cards, and Gwen was supposed to somehow figure it all out on her own.

He was confusing, impulsive, and he made her want to rip her hair out and cry .

At the intersection of 32nd street, Gwen hesitated.

If she went down Rockerfeller Ave, she would pass by the antique store.

She would see Ambrosius, and maybe Gwen could finally convince him to talk.

No, that wasn’t right.

Gwen didn’t want to convince him of anything, she just wanted to talk to him.

She wanted him to shut up and let her talk, not the bullshit he had been pulling since they first crossed that line.

Gwen flushed as the memories of those boundaries being broken made her squirm.

The all too familiar heat dropping low.

“Fuck it,” Gwen swore, pressing the button to cross over to Rockerfeller.

“I’ll make him listen to me, one way or the other.”