8 The question

She swallowed hard. 

'Demona! This guy really is into voodoo,' she thought.

She stole the opportunity to to stare into his eyes. They looked more pale and stoic, once she sensed regret and anger in them. She began to wonder why but then decided to push the thought aside when her heart became full of revenge once again. 

She seized the chance to ask him a question again with the hope that he would release her

"Why--is one person--excemted?" 

It was hard to speak with his grip to her throat.

He realeased her from his grip and slipped his hands into his pocket elegantly, while struggled to catch her breath. He starred at her in fluency with his stoic look.

"Because that person is bound to serve me with every last breath that he--or she has."

With those words, he vanished. 

With her back against the wall, she slid slowly to the ground, her hand still rubbing her neck. She looked at her long gone brother as tears crept its way to her eyes. 

She thought, clenching her fist:

'No one kills my family--and gets away with it.'

Becoming more sorrowful in memory of her deceased parent, a tear escaped her eyes, while her last words slipped into the air:

"Mother . . . I'm sorry."

Finally, she fell into the world of oblivion.