The Demon Child

The woman sat in the corner, bound in fabric and smiling. The room was pure white, the walls made of clouds, and she relished the feeling against her back after so much struggling. Freedom tasted sweet on her skin, and the air had a sort of refreshing artificial smell. She'd cast the shackle that was her old home behind and would never see it again, and she felt better for it. It didn't matter that there was blood on her hands, she couldn't see them anyway.

She was supposed to be alone there, and yet she wasn't. She didn't mind though. The little girl kept her company, and she enjoyed the sound of her laughter. Cozy Glow wore a pink tutu and matching stockings, both just a little lighter than her skin, a gold ring on one hand and a silver one on the other, and a red bow through her ice-blue curls. A pair of small vulture wings rested on her back, starting the colour of her skin at the base and darkening to the same red as her eyes at the tips. They fluttered and twitched in time with her movements. She was smiling, and she was laughing, and she was dancing around the room.

The space was somewhat cold, but the woman didn't mind. The air was clear, and thin in that delightful way it is when you're high up. Free from everything and everyone, free to watch the fires burn and the floods cover the land. High up in the heavens. She didn't feel hungry, or sad, or like she needed anything at all. She'd lost everything, and she was the happiest she'd ever been. She was dead to the world, and she'd never felt more alive. And she watched the little girl twirling over the clouds around her, smiling and laughing and dancing.