LOGINChase Olympus: Her name was Lucy Roshid. Or Salt, as she was popularly known as, at Davenport. The brothel she worked at. She was never meant to matter. Just another transaction. Another body. Until my father touched her and something in me snapped. The Olia cult marked her for death. So I took her instead. Claimed her. Hid her. Now she’s mine. My kitten. I expected obedience. She demanded her freedom. What I got is obsession. She’s a risk I shouldn’t take. A line I shouldn’t cross. But walking away from her means losing more than control. It means losing the only thing that’s ever felt like mine. In my world, that choice starts a war. And I’ve already made mine. I keep Lucy. Or I die trying.
View MoreThere is a click-clack coming down a pathway that is lit in total darkness. The pitter-patter of acid rain drops onto the rugged black surface. In the far distance, there is a howl, yet more like a cry. Thunder roars to create the perfect balance for ultimate chaos and pure raw horror.
If you find me walking past your room this very moment, you know that you have landed where nothing real exists anymore. The only reality shall be that of your fear, your own personal agony that you have created for yourself.
You have earned yourself a one-way ticket to my playground.
Welcome to hell.
The sun does not shine here, nor is there anything living, including you, my dear friend. You will live in your agonizing present with the deed that has brought you down here. A time loop of the sin you so foolishly committed that, up there, brought you great pleasure.
Here it is my pleasure to see you suffer.
Here I am Damien, the Devil's son.
Now, do not get me wrong, I love to see pain brought to your face over and over, but this does not hold the same excitement it used to hold me before. It is the same as always, mostly, funny enough, it is not murder, yet they are my favorite ones to watch. What gets you down here is your own greed; you, yourself, will be your own downfall.
Although I do love to watch you stew in your own mess, I do also sometimes crave the things that a man like me should not crave. Those little things that are forbidden.
I crave flesh.
Here is where you should not get me wrong, I am not a flesh-eating demon. I feel the need for interaction with another than that of a poor doomed soul and the ones that so eagerly feed on them.
Which brings me here, the gates of hell.
I have, on so many occasions, tried to force myself through and step into the world of the real living. Heaven, I am truly not fazed with. Dad has his fair amount that sneaks in here on the odd occasion. What I crave are the things that only a human can provide. What it is, that I cannot tell you. My fascination is high, and I am eager to explore.
So after many days and nights, which down here makes no difference, I have carefully considered that I shall take that bold step. I know that there shall be great consequences for my actions should my father find me out, or worse, my true identity come known to a human.
The moment has arrived. I have made sure that my father will be occupied at the very moment. A sweet little angel that I snuck in earlier today. He shall have endless fun with her in his own little time loop. It gives me the opportunity that I have been eagerly waited for.
So, I mask my path and keep out of sight from any demon; the pesky little things can really be such a nagging pain at times. With a heart pounding in a heavy chest, I find my way at the gate that keeps us away from the world that beyond this truly exists.
Yes, I said pounding, but that shall be a discussion of another day. Today, now, at this very moment, I, who has, as sneaky as I can be, stolen the gate keys when father was not looking. I had one of the blacksmiths forge me a new one, and there, I have my own.
With a hand that slightly trembles and short stuttered breaths, I only but whisper to myself. "Breathe, Damien…Breathe…You can do this."
With one click, the door slowly opens.
There is a bright light that blinds me but for a moment. No, I am not in heaven. I have entered when these humans have their day.
Now let me paint you the picture. This is not a gate that leads into a rose garden. It is not the type of gate that leads into a park. This gate, well, it has landed me in a pile of filth and mud. Somewhere on the outskirts of this city, the gate that leads you to hell is found on the edge of an old abandoned graveyard.
After closing the gate firmly behind me, for we do not want any demons to come out, I make my way through the graveyard that has not seen any new souls in years. As they say, this one is fully utilized, well, not only by space, but we have had many additions from here ourselves.
It is a horrid life, but somebody has to do it. Father hates walking around the tortured souls. He says that it has become beneath him. He will rather enjoy repeating his own little sin after sin. On the other hand, I love the hand that I have been dealt, but now I am looking for a little bit more. Father dangles his fingers in heaven; I will be dangling mine in earth.
So, what seems like only minutes, but in fact is nearly half an hour, I find myself entering the city limits. It is magnificent to see all the towering buildings that shine in the afternoon sunlight. There are the honking of cars and the sounds of so many voices. A sound that I am completely unfamiliar with. It sounds like pure music to my ear. There is no agony, and there is no crying. It is perfect. Confusing. But perfect.
There are so many places to go and so many things here to see; I thought I would only have to come out once here; I have gladly been mistaken. So the very first place that I am drawn to is a park that is near the city center. Everything is green, filled with a rainbow full of colors. The smell is even yet beyond me. I never have, and I shall say again, never smelled anything apart from fear and complete nothingness. It is as if my senses are set to pleasure.
I do understand now why this is forbidden, and even more, I do understand why these humans sin. They live with temptation every day. I have now tasted the forbidden fruit; I will find here what it is that I seek.
In the far corner of the park, I find a bench; I shall sit and watch them, learn them. They are fascinating when they are still fully intact; when they get down there, they are in pieces and completely shattered. I shall, in a way, say, here they are still fresh. Again, I do not wish to feed their flesh; I wish to touch one.
So I sit in my little corner, and I stare over this park; there are humans with their children playing what is called catch. Then there are humans, which I believe they call them couples; they are sitting tucked in each other's arms. And there are also the ones that are just sitting by themselves, reading.
But then…
I feel it come traveling through the air; it hits me off balance and shocks me back into the chair. I feel as little tingles flow over my body. I feel my skin as it is set alight; my heart starts to beat that fraction faster. I try to utter but one word to myself, but it comes out strangled.
So I turn my head in the direction that the scent has come, and as my deep brown eyes finally meet it, I am completely thrown off my feet. I have not seen any such beauty; it is radiating from her skin. It is as if the sun is glowing from her; her soft brown hair is playing in the wind over her shoulders. I can feel the vibration her body gives to the earth crawl up into my own body.
This, this is what I want.
I want to lay my hands softly against her skin and just feel her.
I want her touch.
But I am a man that knows nothing about a woman, let alone a woman that is a human. But her scent is so intoxicating; I don't care what I do know and what I do not; I just need her.
How?
How do I get close to her?
As I give myself a once over, I do not quite present the man that such a delicate creature shall talk to, let alone touch. I do seem to come across as odd in all my six-foot-two glory, with muscles that flex in tighten in a black designer suit. I could easily settle as an undertaker.
So, I close my eyes and get lost in her scent, which carries me to another dimension. I count from ten to one and build that courage and determination that the son of the devil has.
But then…
Chase. 'And guess what? I loved killing him.' His words from moments ago echo in my ears. He loved killing my father? I stare at him. He returns my stare with a look I barely recognize. His eyes are murderous as he continues. "I wanted my own hidden stash, locked away in a bank somewhere as well. I wanted the best life as well. I wanted my own family." His voice darkens. "But most importantly, I wanted all my brother had. His life. Everything." He declares it coldly. I don't know how I manage to remain calm as I watch him. Though hot anger bristles inside me at his words, most of his words were already written in those papers. The journals from the Pharoah's father about his meeting with my biological father, Crane Olympus. One particular entry flashes through my mind now. 'Crane Olympus spoke to me for hours. Told me how his elder brother, Kane, envied him. Told me how he always eavesdropped on Kane, telling others how he wished he could have everything Crane had. Eve
Chase. Meanwhile. "Alright. Flag and restrict every activity carried out through the accounts of Mr Fitzgerald and his wife." My voice comes out tight and professional over the phone. My gaze stays fixed on the CCTV monitors, watching every activity inside and outside the house. I pinch the bridge of my nose between my thumb and index finger, trying to remain calm. Trying to remain steady. "Yes, Sir," my man responds. "But what about their daughter? Should we do the same to her?" he asks carefully. "No. The federal agent who called me moments ago didn't demand that. He was only specific about Mr and Mrs..." The door suddenly flies inward with a loud bang. And in walks the man of the fucking hour. So called Crane Olympus. "Where is that prick?!" His furious eyes sweep around the room until they finally land on me. The instant they do, I watch his expression darken into something even uglier. "Just handle Mr and Mrs Fitzgerald," I finish into the phone before hanging up. Sli
Lucy. Chase’s Residence, New York. Friday, 3rd April. Next day. Morning. “That was some delicious breakfast, Meera.” I say to Meera as I stand behind her in the kitchen. She stills in the middle of speaking to the maid, then turns to me, a warm smile on her face. “That’s fine, Ms Roshid.” She says warmly. “I needed to spoil you rotten with this new recipe that I got for breakfast. So I made it,” she says excitedly as she comes to stand in front of me. I smile, remembering how delicious the food tasted. “I didn’t even ask the name. I just dived into the food like a hungry bear.” I say as I help her reach for the glass cup in front of me that she has been trying to reach. “You shouldn’t do these chores, Miss.” She protests quietly as she receives the glass cup. There is no malice in her words. Only affection. “I have told you countless times. I and the other in house staff have got this.” She smiles as she crosses over to place the glass cup inside the cupboard. “Oh, I would alw
Tamara. Dale's Residence, New York. Thursday, 2nd of April. Three days later. Night. Dad asked us to meet here. "I have invited Olympus to the meeting as well. I want to tell him what his little pup has been up to concerning the girl, Salt." Dad said when he called me earlier today. Now I'm here, in his house, wondering how Crane Olympus is going to take his son betraying him over a delivery. I stand in the middle of the living room, watching the large wall portraits of myself, Dad, and Mum. Well, I was a baby in all the paintings. I had no idea of the world back then. All I had was this innocent smile, one that was void of all the pain the world could give. The pain of losing my family. The pain of losing Mum. The humiliation of losing Chase to a nobody. My phone pings with a message, dragging my thoughts back to the present. I pull it out until I'm staring at the screen. A new message from Chase. My heart skips. Since that kidnapping incident that caused the death of T
Chase. Sunday, 7th February. Next day. Morning. Lucy sleeps on the bed, and I sit here watching her, memorizing every breath she takes. The slow rise and fall of her chest. The way her body sprawls across the sheets, boneless with exhaustion. Daylight streams in through the naked floor-to-ceil
Lucy. “Give me our coats and the car keys,” Chase barks at his men as I’m carried over his shoulder and we’re thrown into the cold. “Let me go, Chase!” I struggle, but his hold is iron. The man, Cameo, hands him the coats, and Chase keeps moving toward the car. That’s when I elbow him hard.
Chase. Rovero Gardens, 57th Avenue, New York. Later... My lips tighten as we walk into the party. Expensive, gilded chandeliers hang from the high ceiling of the vast hall where the event is being held. A charity gala, the tabloids say. An event meant to raise awareness about the poverty
Lucy. Saturday, 6th February. Two days later. Evening. I sit in front of a mirror in the room, all dressed up. A rhinestone encrusted kitten mask on my face. Hair pulled into a high bun on my head. Skin, silver dress, and diamond jewelries all glowing under the soft light at the slightest moveme
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