In the Devil's Company

Tossing and turning, I tried fruitlessly to find a comfortable position on the couch in the living room. It's been a couple days since Matt's visit and Ronnie's…outburst. Ironically enough, he hasn't gone out at all, really. Sure he'd have friends over at some point or another, but nothing dramatic.

Some how he always made it to the bed before me, knowing perfectly well that otherwise he'd have to sleep on the couch. So, I decided to do one better and kick myself onto the couch. I'm still unsure of how well it's really working so far. At least I don't have to see his fucking face right before falling asleep. Imagine all the nightmares!

A shrill ring bounced off the vaulted ceiling and caused me to fall off the edge of the couch, landing hard on my butt and several additional bruises. I groaned as I gripped the edge of the coffee table and got up onto my feet. Cautiously, I glanced over my shoulder to see if the ring had wakened Ronnie. Luckily, the halls were motionless and darker than ever.

I sprinted, to the best of my ability, to the kitchen and urgently wrapped my fingers around the cordless phone. I didn't bother looking at the caller ID. Did it really matter? Regardless of an identity, any person calling at 3 AM is crazy, drunk, or a combination of the two.

"Hello?" I whispered quietly, no…more like tiredly into the receiver.

"Claire, it's Matt. What's wrong…why do you sound like that?"

"It's late, Matt. You woke me up," I explained, even though in reality, lying on the couch uncomfortably was hardly enough to be considered "sleep."

"Aw, shit. I'm sorry…I just really have to talk to you right now…it couldn’t wait." he said.

"Great," I mumbled, rubbing some sleep from my eyes, "You called me at this time to tell me that you have to tell me something? Ugh, couldn't it wait till the morning?"

"I didn't call to tell you that, silly. It’s some crazy good news and that is what couldn't wait. Trust me, I think you’ll want to hear this," he said happily.

"Do tell," I insisted, suddenly not minding the late call.

"Brian met this dude…an actor, actually. He said that this guy is interested in opening an art gallery. That's right up your alley…that's your way out!"

My breath hitched tightly in the back of my throat. It all sounded too good to be true. "That," I breathed, "that sounds absolutely amazing, Matt! Does this mysterious actor have a name?"

"Yeah, uh, it's Ian something…you might know him. He's from that one vampire show you and Val got hooked on…"

I'm sincerely not sure how this was possible, but the deal just got ten times better. My palms quickly grew sweaty out of disbelief and excitement. I steadied my breath before replying.

"You're telling me that Ian Somerhalder wants to work with me?!" I gasped.

"That's right, sis. A limo is set to arrive around 9 AM tomorrow and will drive you all the way to LA," Matt said, a smile clearly evident in his voice.

"O-okay, well in that case I need to sleep…pack…eat! Ah! So much to do. Thank you, Matt!" I cried, not caring whether my voice woke Ronnie or not.

"You deserve it, Claire. Now, I'll let you go take care of your business. See you tomorrow."

I placed the phone back onto the countertop and stood there in the dim kitchen, watching the sun's colorful rays starting to make its appearance in the early morning sky. As you can only begin to imagine, my mind was racing with endless thoughts having to do with this highly unexpected, yet wonderful twist of fate. Yet, despite the greatness of it all…a lot of work needed to be done within the next few hours.

*Ian’s POV*

After having that rather surprising dinner with Brian, I returned to the apartment that I own, just above my new gallery. Art has always intrigued me because there’s never a wrong way to do it. Of course, it’s also a bonus that usually it tends to attract a more sophisticated, cultured group.

Truth be told, I didn’t really need any help with my gallery…all the plans were set, finances were taken care of, and most of the pieces of art had already arrived. Brian seemed so desperate to get this girl off his band’s conscience, and I have to admit, I was in the perfect position to help.

As I stepped inside my living room, I couldn’t help but notice a thin trail of blood leading into the kitchen. The girl froze when she saw that I had returned, clearly sooner than she expected. She dropped the box of cereal she was holding, causing the flakes to spill out and blend with the blood scattered across the floor.

“Y-you haven’t let me eat in d-days,” she explained, trembling with every word.

I grinned slightly, trying make it as filled with sympathy as I could muster, as I approached her, noticing the broken chain lingering at her side. “Oh, that won’t matter to you whatsoever in just a few short minutes.”

I closed the space between us and tilted her head ever so slightly before kissing her parched lips. She looked nothing like she did when I first brought her back here. It’s a shame really; here I thought she’d be a keeper…until I was introduced to a new project…Claire.

A knife had been resting peacefully on the wooden cutting board nearby. It shined proudly under the harsh light bleeding out from the light fixture overhead. I just couldn’t possibly resist. I intensified the kiss as I slid my tongue past hers and invaded her mouth, while I subtly reached for the knife.

When we pulled away, I could tell that her eyes were overflowing with signs of confusion. “I’m seeing someone else,” I teased adding a slight hint of sadness before I shoved the knife deep into her throat, feeling the blood playfully squirt out from the sudden attack.

She began gasping, attempting to breathe despite the fact that her wind pipe was being blocked by my blade. I let her struggle a little longer before I slid the knife across the remainder of her throat, spraying blood onto the refrigerator to our left and leaving a disgustingly huge gash in her throat.

Like I said, there’s never a wrong way to create art.

*Normal POV*

As the sun slowly ascended in the sky and the hours began to fly by, I worked my ass off. Of course, the first thing I did was make a steaming pot of coffee to keep me going. It was still only 7 AM, leaving me two more hours.

A majority of the objects that needed to be packed rested in the master bedroom. Ronnie could easily be woken up at the slightest noise or movement, especially on nights like tonight when he was surprisingly sober. To hell with Ronnie. I'm done worrying about him.

With a stern, semi-confident expression on my face, I marched down the hallway with my suitcase in hand. The simple creak of an opening door was enough to silence Ronnie's snoring. I watched him intently as I moved toward the dresser, still in relative darkness. So far, so good.

I cried out suddenly after my foot tripped over a misplaced object lying on the floor. Due to the location in the room, there was absolutely nothing for me to hang on to. I ended up sprawled across the bed, partially laying on top of Ronnie as well.

"I knew you'd cave in eventually," he mumbled smugly.

I shuddered as his fingertips crawled up my arms until each of his filthy fingers wrapped around my shoulders, pulling me down so that I was now laying on top of him.

“Feel familiar?” he teased, lifting his hips every now and then, purposely making me very aware of his early morning erection. Only Ronnie would be the one person to wake up with an insta-boner. My stomach lurched, threatening to spew chunks everywhere.

Firmly, I pressed my palms against his bare chest to force some space between us. “I didn’t come in here for this. I need some clothes,” I muttered, freezing each of his actions in place.

Thin, orange slits of sunlight were creeping through the blinds, illuminating Ronnie’s angered face. His eyes were narrowed and glaring up at me. “And where exactly do you think you’re going?” he questioned, forming a tightened grip on my wrists.

“Not like it’s any of your business,” I spat, trying to free my hands, “but I’ve been offered a proposal to help sponsor an art gallery a few hours from here.”

Ronnie’s grip loosened completely as he backed away, his body shaking with cruel, mocking laughter. “Who the hell would ask you to do something like that?”

I growled as anger boiled up inside of me. “I’m a teacher of the subject, which must suggest that I have some knowledge and talent in the area, you moron!”

Using the brief amount of time that I was free, I leaped off the bed and made my way into the walk-in closet, flicking a light switch on in the process. Angrily, I gripped the hangers and ripped the clothes off, lazily dropping them into the open suitcase. I rolled my eyes as I heard the bedsprings creak. I didn’t even bother turning around to face him.

“And why exactly didn’t you mention this sooner?” he whispered in my ear, joining me in the ever confining space of the closet. The breath that escaped past his lips felt warm and moist against my skin. It was almost enough to hitch the air at the back of my throat and cause my heart to stutter. Almost.

“In case you haven’t noticed,” I said, folding a pair of blue jeans, “we have hardly spoken recently. Giving you a narration of my life in stalker-esque proportions wasn’t exactly on my to do list.”

His body twitched slightly as he bit back some anger. He spun me around quickly so that we were face-to-face, though I still maintained my downward stare at the half-filled set of luggage.

“You’re not going,” he said slowly.

His intense stare and serious attitude were burning gaping holes through my defense. I forcefully swallowed the lump in the back of my throat before finally meeting his eyes, hardened and unyielding.

“I’m not asking for your permission. I’m telling you. I’m going to work on this gallery, and that’s the end of it,” I replied.

Ronnie’s stiff stance faltered as the unpleasant words registered in his mind. I didn’t turn away from him, as much as it would please me to do so. He needed to know I’m serious.

It’d be a lie if I told you that I knew what to expect from Ronnie. Lately he’s been such a loose cannon that I felt as if I was walking across an unsafely thin layer of ice over a freezing lake of blackened waters. He took a single step forward, pushing me back into a rack of clothes.

“If I find out that you’re lying to me or cheating on me, you’re dead,” he said menacingly before spinning on his heel and returning to bed. That time, I can’t deny, he truly did temporarily stop my heart from beating.

By 8:45 AM, I had finished squashing everything down into my now over packed suitcase. As I dragged the heavy package out through the room, I paused to look at Ronnie. He was laying on his stomach, his mop of messy black hair facing me. I was unsure if he was actually asleep.

Could this be the last time I’d be seeing him? If this deal turned out to be promising, I’d have to move…it’s inevitable. For some reason, I don’t see Ronnie just dropping everything and moving even if it was only a couple hours away. But…I want to get away from Ronnie, don’t I?

I just need to remember that he’s not the same person anymore. For God’s sake, he shoved me down a flight of stairs! It’s rather evident that he doesn’t care about me anymore, so why the hell should I care about him?

I gave him one last look before limping out of the room. I left without saying goodbye. And still, a part of me felt guilt.