Retaliate.

The slender hands of the devil fit so well around my throat.

Almost as if they belong there.

Day in. Day out. My eyes are glancing towards windows. My mind making a mental note towards every possible exit whenever I enter a room.

I await His next appearance with a strange fascination.

Like that of two old rivals meeting once again.

Pleasantries.

My time upon his palm has ended.

His reign upon my mind lifted.

Yet not his curse.

Forever.

Forever shall I be ensnared within his nightmarish wrath.

Until I dance with the devil near.

I am His my dear, my dear.

A web I weave of hopeful dreams. To be free. To be one. To be the wielder of my own fate again.

But no.

Tis this demon's curse to forever live in fear of his devilish master.

Yet as I live in fear, I will exist in retaliation.

He may own me.

But that doesn't mean I'm going to take it lying down.