It's been two hours and the cool sensation hasn't left my forehead. Is it just because his skin was so cold, or is it because that moment has been replaying in my mind so much as I try to analyze his motive? Either way, it's something that YouTube hasn't been able to fix. Frustrated, I stand from my desk chair, stretch, then flop onto my bed. My eyes are trained on the white ceiling, searching for answers.

Maybe it was just one of those spontaneous things he does, I wonder. He does act on impulse, often.

I decide to accept this theory, finding nothing more logical. After another few moments of staring up at the ceiling, I think:

Hey, Anti, could you get back soon? I wanna go outside without having my life threatened.

Almost immediately, the demon appears in the corner, leaning against the closed door of my room. As I sit up, I ask, "Why'd you make this rule, anyway? Doesn't seem too convenient for you."

"It's not the most convenient, at the moment, but it'll pay off in the long run."

"I didn't know you had long-term plans for me." My tone conveys sincere surprise. "Am I allowed to know what those plans are?"

Anti scans me for a moment. "Maybe later. Right now, I just need to keep my plaything safe while I'm away."

"Would you please not call me that?" I groan. "I've told you – I have a relatively significant conscience. I'm not your toy."

Anti steps away from the door and grabs the back of my desk chair to swing it around. He places himself in the seat, facing me. A knife sits in his hands, and he twists it around – probably out of habit, more than anything else. He leans forward slightly and tilts his head to the side, just a bit too far to be natural.

"And what would you like me to call you?" he asks.

" '[Y/N]'. My name is [Y/N]. You know this," I reply, getting a bit annoyed. "And you still haven't given me a legitimate answer about the 'going outside' rule."

"Well, every time you leave the house, there's the chance you'll get broken–"

"Injured," I interject. "Again–" I point to myself "–not a toy."

"Don't fucking interrupt me," Anti growls, pointing the knife at me. I put up my hands in surrender and keep my mouth shut. He takes the knife away and continues: "You might get 'injured', and then if I was a bit rough with you–"

Tortured me, I think at him. Anti glares at me. I simply hold up a finger and then point to my mouth, essentially saying, Wait! I haven't spoken.

"If I tortured you then you'd be permanently broken– or I guess you'd prefer the term 'dead.' But that'd mean I'd have to find someone new to mess with!"

I sigh, putting my face in my hands. He's keeping me alive so he can fuck with me longer. Fan-fucking-tastic.

"I'll stay safe. I live in a pretty decent neighborhood," I say, still facing down. Then, getting an idea, I raise my head up to look Anti in the eyes. "And if someone tries to hurt me you can kill them. I mean, you can kill them anyways, but you could make a game out of it."

Anti raises an eyebrow as his face breaks into a large cheshire-like smile. "I like it." Then, he stands. "Alright. You can leave the house even if I'm not here. I'll just listen out for any panicked thoughts. Take this, at least."

He tosses me a sleek pocketknife. After I fumble to catch it, I stuff the thing into my pants pocket. I give the demon a thumbs-up and watch him disappear.

"Whoo! Logic," I cheer to myself.

I'm glad to be allowed outside. Without worrying about another awkward and uncomfortable social interaction, I freely enter the cafe I'd been in before. Placing myself in the same chair I was in before, I gaze out the window with a newfound sense of relaxation.

Feeling legitimately hungry, instead of just craving coffee, I head to a nearby restaurant. It's dim lights are calming and give the place a warm feeling. Before I've reached the front of the line, I feel a tap on my shoulder. I whip my head around and glare at the person behind me, unusually hostile.

My gaze softens as I realize it's just Colum, one of my closer friends from school and the first one to spring to my side and comfort me after the whole "Lukas incident". He grins and slings his arm around my shoulders.

"Hey, [Y/N]," he beams. "What're you doing here? I thought you never left your room, much less your house."

A burning sensation begins to rise in my chest as he gets close to me. It's easily ignorable, but attracts my attention. It hasn't even been an hour, I think, so the warning pain shouldn't be popping up now.

The pain promptly diminishes as I push his arm off my shoulders. "I leave sometimes. I have a life, you know."

"Sure you do," Colum teases. His bright smile turns into a softer one as his tone becomes a bit more serious. "So, uh, how's the whole situation with Lukas?"

We're seated together in a booth, sitting across from each other. I take a moment to think over my answer. It's probably not a good idea to relay the story of Lukas's murder.

"He's texted me a bit, but I've just been ignoring him. Don't worry about me so much," I reply, trying to change the subject.

Colum gives me an odd look. Pausing to study him, I notice small things. He's fidgeting a bit, blushing, won't maintain eye contact... He's leaning forward, however, and listened attentively to every word I said. It takes me a moment to process, but the signs are fairly clear: Colum has a crush on me. He's never been too good at hiding things from me.

"Hey, I–"

Before Colum can finish his sentence, our waitress arrives at the table with our water to take our orders. I get [Food], Colum orders, and I turn back to him.

"What were you saying?"

"Hm?" he asks, eyes wide as an owl's, face redder than the YouTube logo. "Oh– Nothing. It wasn't important."

I nod, accepting his rushed answer.

The rest of our lunch goes smoothly, without any other attempts from Colum to express his feelings. During our meal, Colum glances up and points to a tv behind me. I turn to find the news reporting a recent murder – no – double murder.

Shit.

The screen switches from two pressed and polished reporters to Lukas and Arendt's school pictures side by side. I watch as the reporters describe the scene that I've seen every time I close my eyes.

"Two teenagers were found dead in their bedrooms. With both, the cause of death was excessive bleeding," the woman drones. "Even more gruesome is the fact that the murderer removed one arm from each adolescent and pinned it to the other's body.

"The houses of Lukas Forsman and Arendt Tegner are significantly far apart, but the times of death appear to be extremely close. The arms were reattached to the opposite person just minutes after the two died, confusing investigators even further. No evidence has been provided to the public as to who is responsible."

I turn back to find Colum staring at the screen with severe surprise and significant horror. His face pales. I conjure a look of shock.

"They... They reattached the arms to the other person?" he gags.

"I can't believe it," I say, slouching.

"Yeah Lukas and Arendt sucked, but I didn't want them to die." Colum's attention turns to me, noticing my posture. "Hey, what's wrong? You don't have to feel bad – It's not like you killed him."

I quickly cover my face in my hands to disguise a smirk playing on my lips. Technically, I think, no, it wasn't me that killed him.

When I regain my composure, I look back up at him with worried eyes. "Yeah, I know. I just feel kinda bad because the last thing I did was ignore him. What a shit way to say goodbye."

Our conversation had eventually returned to lighter topics, regaining an air of friendliness and humor. The waitress comes back with our separate bills, and Colum takes my receipt out of my hands. He offers, then insists to pay for my meal as well as his. Eventually I oblige, then we stand to leave.

As we walk to the door, he puts his arm around my shoulders again. It's something he's done often before. I notice it more than I would normally, however, because of the burning pain in my chest. It intensifies the longer his arm remains there, to the point where I break out of his hold so it doesn't become too uncomfortable.

"I'd better get home," I quickly blurt. "It was great seeing you, though."

"Same," he smiles. "You wanna meet up later this week?"

"Sure," I reply, hoping to have simple human interaction without having my life threatened.

Then, he pulls me into his chest for a hug. It's a warm and comforting sensation, promptly interrupted by a wave of nausea washing over me. I ride out the pain fairly easily, but still question its reason. The instant I can break away without making it awkward, I do so.

"Can I walk you home?" he asks.

I quickly shake my head. "Nah, I'm good. See ya around."

I wave back to him and hurry away, one arm wrapped around my stomach.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter of "Plaything" as much as I enjoyed writing it. Comments and votes are super appreciated. Thanks for reading! ~Blue