Chapter 1

I cracked one eye open, the bright morning sunlight already searing my retinas. Ugh, another day, another dollar. Or in my case, another day of being a glorified nursing home attendant to my dear, sweet grandmama. I rolled over, my head pounding from last night’s bottle of cheap cabernet. The Mothman stared back at me from his rightful place on my wall, his beady eyes judging me for my life choices.

“Mornin’ to you too, Mothey,” I grumbled, reaching for the grimy, chipped mug of lukewarm tea on my nightstand. My eyes going out of focus as I took a sip, grimacing at the bitter taste.

I heaved myself out of bed, my oversized Black Sabbath t-shirt falling loosely over my curves. Shuffling to the bathroom, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the cracked mirror – dark circles, smudged eyeliner, and a perpetual frown. Lovely. I expertly reapplied my signature look, heavy black kohl and blood-red lips, before trudging downstairs to check on Granny.

“Mornin’, ya old bat,” I called out, my voice dripping with mock sweetness. The shriveled form in the recliner stirred, beady eyes glaring at me.

“Watch your tone, girl,” she snapped, her bony finger wagging at me. “I ain’t deaf, you know.”

I rolled my eyes, plopping down on the lumpy couch and flipping on the ancient TV. “Could’ve fooled me.”

Granny humphed, turning her attention back to her knitting. I stared blankly at the flickering screen, my mind drifting as the mindless chatter of the morning news droned on. How the hell did I end up here, playing nursemaid to the very woman who made my childhood a living hell?

I picked at a loose thread on the couch. The familiar motion was soothing, a grounding me before I really started to spiral. I glanced over at Granny, watching her bony fingers expertly weave the yarn. She’d always been so skilled with her hands, whether it was knitting, gardening, or… well, you get the idea. I shuddered, quickly pushing that particular memory back into the dark recesses of my mind.

“You’d best be makin’ yourself useful and start on breakfast,” Granny grumbled, not taking her eyes off her work. “I’m gettin’ hungry.”

I let out an exaggerated sigh, hauling myself off the couch. “Yes, ma’am.” As I trudged to the kitchen, I couldn’t help but wonder what delightful culinary masterpiece I’d be whipping up today. Probably something bland and nutritious, knowing Granny. Maybe I’d slip a little something extra in her tea, just to liven things up a bit.

Now, where did I put that bottle of sleeping pills?

I meandered over to the fridge, yanking the door open and staring blankly at the sparse contents. Ah, yes. The usual suspects – a half-empty carton of eggs, a wilted head of lettuce, and a suspicious-looking block of cheese. Jackpot.

“Granny! What sounds good for breakfast?” I hollered, already dreading the answer.

“You know I like my eggs over easy, with a side of crispy bacon and whole wheat toast,” she barked back. “And don’t you dare skimp on the butter, you hear?”

I let out a dramatic sigh, slamming the fridge door shut. “Yes, ma’am.” Shuffling to the pantry, I scanned the meager selection of canned goods and stale crackers. Bacon, huh? Fat chance. I’d be lucky if I could even find a single slice in this Gods-forsaken kitchen.

As I rummaged through the cabinets, my eyes landed on the familiar orange bottle of sleeping pills. Hmm, there they are. I chuckled to myself, my fingers drumming against the plastic container. Nah, can’t do that. As much as the old bat deserves it, I’d probably end up in jail. Or worse, have to deal with her nagging spirit for the rest of eternity.

I settled for a couple of sad-looking eggs and some stale bread, resigning myself to a breakfast of pure culinary disappointment. As I cracked the eggs into the ancient cast-iron skillet, the familiar sizzle and pop provided a soothing backdrop.

I glanced over my shoulder, catching a glimpse of the old bat knitting away in her recliner. The years had not been kind to her – her once fiery red hair now a dull, wispy gray, her face a map of wrinkles and liver spots. I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of pity, mixed with a healthy dose of resentment.

“Life’s a real bitch, ain’t it, Mothey?” I said, addressing the Mothman screensaver on my phone. I liked having him near at all times. “Don’t worry, I’m not planning on checking out anytime soon. Gotta stick around and make Granny’s life a living hell, just like she did to me.”

I chuckled darkly, sliding the eggs onto a chipped plate and placing it on the rickety kitchen table. “Breakfast is served, Your Majesty,” I called out, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “Bon appétit.”

Granny shuffled into the kitchen, eyeing the meager offering with disdain. “Is this all you could manage, girl?” she snapped, gingerly lowering herself into the chair. “Where’s the bacon? And why isn’t this toast buttered?”

I rolled my eyes, plopping down across from her. “Sorry, Granny, but we’re a little short on the good stuff these days. Guess you’ll have to make do with what I could scrounge up.”

Granny let out an exasperated huff, stabbing at the eggs with her fork. “Well, I certainly hope you plan on going to the store later. I’m running low on my tea and I’ll be needing more yarn for my knitting.”

I groaned inwardly, already dreading the inevitable trip to the grocery store. Dealing with Granny’s nitpicking and passive-aggressive comments was bad enough, but having to navigate the bustling aisles and make small talk with the cashier? No, thank you.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll get to it,” I muttered, absently tracing the lines of my tattoos. “Just let me finish my breakfast in peace, will ya?”

Granny tsked, shaking her head disapprovingly. “You know, if you’d just get yourself a decent job and stop moping around the house all day, you might actually have some money to spend on proper food and other necessities.”

I felt my jaw clench, my fingers tightening around the chipped mug of lukewarm tea. “It’s not like I haven’t been trying, Granny. But who the hell wants to hire a college dropout with a history of mental health issues and tattoos?”

Granny’s eyes narrowed, her bony finger wagging in my direction. “Don’t you take that tone with me, girl. I may be old, but I’m still sharp as a tack. And if you’d just apply yourself, maybe you wouldn’t be such a disappointment.”

I rolled my eyes, shoving a forkful of egg into my mouth. “Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, Granny.” I swallowed hard, the bland, rubbery texture doing nothing to improve my mood.

Well, isn’t this just a fucking delight. I didn’t expect my day to turn around the way it did, I decided to got to bed early and now I’m stuck in some sort of sleep paralysis hell, unable to so much as twitch a finger. And who should come waltzing in but the grim reaper himself, ready to have his way with me. Well I think it is the grim reaper or some kind of incubus given the fact he keeps playing with my boobs and I could feel his cock rubbing against me. Also, he had this deep growly thing going for him that was definitely not made with human vocals. Talk about a silver lining, am I right?

“No… No. You’re supposed to be terrified. I’m here to kill you,” the demon growled, his hand caressing my cheek in a twisted mockery of tenderness.

Oh, thank goodness. Sweet release. Fucking finally.

“NO! You’re not supposed to be relieved. What the fuck? You do realize I’m going to fuck you to death, right?” the demon snarled, his grip tightening on my face.

For free?!

I’m not sure if the lack of oxygen is making me delirious, but this is shaping up to be the best day ever. A free fuck and a one-way ticket to the great beyond? Sign me up, baby.

The demon let out a barking laugh, his breath hot against my cheek. “Oh, I like you. You’re a real piece of work, aren’t you? Crazy as a fucking loon, just the way I like ’em.”

I wanted to laugh, to throw my head back and cackle at the sheer absurdity of the situation. Here I am, about to be violated and killed by some sort of supernatural entity, and I’m more excited than a kid on Christmas morning. If this isn’t a clear sign that I need serious help, I don’t know what is.

But hey, at least the paranormal is real, right? That’s one mystery solved. Now if only I could, you know, move or moan or something. Minor details, really.

As the demon’s fingers trailed down my neck, I couldn’t help but wonder what delightful horrors were in store. Would he suck the life right out of me, leaving a dried-up husk in his wake? Or maybe he’d put on a little show, dragging out the torture for his own twisted amusement. Ooh, maybe he’d even let me watch as he devoured my soul. Hmm now that I’m thinking about it, would that even hurt? I did love me some vore fanfiction….

HEY! CAN I REQUEST YOU EAT MY SOUL?! CURIOUS MINDS NEED TO KNOW!

I mentally braced myself, waiting with bated breath for his next move. This was it – my grand finale, the last act in the train wreck that was my life. And you know what? I couldn’t be more excited.