Chapter 2

"Oh my gosh, are you okay? Are you hurt?" Diana's frantic voice in his ear was the force that summoned Marshal back from the temporarily stunned state he'd been in after the blow to his cheek. He brought a hand tenderly up to the right side of his face and winced. The newest bruise on his face hurt almost as bad as the last one that It had landed on him. He noticed that there was the taste of blood too, he must have bit himself. Diana was shaking him now and he realized that he probably shouldn't continue just standing here; he sustained much worse and lived to tell the tale.

"Get the hell away from here!" Marshal had unintentionally barked it like it was an order, but he couldn't care less at the moment. He whirled back to the tall, terrifying creature that should have stayed a nightmare for him like it had for everyone else. He had to try something. "Please, please don't hurt her! I swear she won't say anything, please-!" Marshal's insides twisted. He felt it before he knew it. He was flying. Flying? No. It had thrown him. He crashed into a wall, fairly confident that the impact had broken a rib; a broken rib could potentially poke a hole in your lung. Maybe he'd die here and be put out of his suffering.

"Oh my God!" Diana cried, and that was enough to make him remember: He couldn't die. Diana would need someone to protect her from this monster. "Are you okay?" Marshal nodded vaguely, but the panic really kicked in when he found he couldn't stand up. It stepped closer, an old and probably decaying hand slowly reaching out to Diana.

"A new toy." It said in its cold, crackling voice. It was hoarse as always, and sounded like it was coming from some mortally wounded creature. At that moment, he knew he had to say something else, and an idea had just struck him. He had to say something It would want to hear.

"No! I- I'll try harder to be better for you! Just don't hurt her!" Marshal winced at his own words. There was no way he could ever be "better" for It. He could try all he wanted, It would still think he wasn't trying hard enough. That he wasn't good enough. He glanced over at Diana. Her face was completely red. She looked angrier than Marshal had ever seen her, and, for a moment, Marshal had two things to fear in this room. Only for a moment though.

"Don't hurt him anymore!" Marshal knew that she couldn't see It until she had said this, because he could see the shift in her. Her eyes suddenly went wide, and her palms, which were sweaty once again, she began wiping on her skirts. The color drained from her face, and she clasped a hand to her mouth. Marshal's heart sank as It began its drawling rasp again.

"No, you'll try harder to be a better plaything for me no matter what." That It had taken his words the wrong way was all the Marshal could think. "Actually, for this stunt, I think I'll be seeing you tonight." Now seemed like a good time to die to Marshal. After all, even death itself would be better than spending the whole night with It, Marshal knew that much from experience. Deep down though, Marshal knew It would never let him die. Diana turned her back on it, her bravery seemed boundless to Marshal who wouldn't have turned his back on It in a million years.

"Is that the demon you were talking about?" Marshal hung his head, incapable of forgiving himself for allowing his tongue to slip.

"My, what a pretty girl you are." It crooned softly to her with a smirk. Marshal bristled, he found the evil meaning behind It's words to be painfully obvious, but Diana still stood her ground.

"You're not laying a finger on him ever again, you hear me?" She stood tall. To Marshal? She looked like a saintess. A holy light fighting off the darkness. It gave Marshal enough strength to force himself up onto his feet. He was unsteady and leaning heavily against the wall, but he was standing. But again, to Marshal's horror, It took Diana's hand in Its own.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, miss..?" Diana tore her hand away from It, a disgusted look on her face. Marshal believed the look was probably from a combination of the simple fact It had touched her as well as the fact that It's skin was cold and clammy. It's flesh often felt like it had probably been dead and decaying for a long time. Marshal straightened a little on the wall, the rib that he feared broken stabbing into his side with immense pain.

"No. Don't… Don't tell him your name… it's how he" Marshal gasped as he leaned forward a bit, the rib was definitely broken. "It's how he gains control over your soul. All he needs… is your name." Marshal gasped a few more times, his gasps turning into pants as the pain grew.

"Are you okay?" Diana was repeating herself again. She kept asking Marshal if he was okay, but, not only was it clear that he wasn't, but she wasn't worrying about herself as she should be.

"I've been through worse." Marshal sputtered, and it was true. It had done much worse things to him, and It knew it. It's eyes glinted in the last twinkle of sunlight as it began its cold rasp once again.

"Change of plans. Tonight as well as every other night until I gain her name." With that, Marshal collapsed back onto the floor, tears threatening to start pouring down his face.

"No… No, please…" Marshal sobbed. He knew it was a lost cause. He'd likely die within the week if he had to return to It each night for even a week. This was the end of his road, he was going to die soon if he didn't give Diana up.

And he knew it.

"Diana. My name's Diana." Diana had stepped protectively in front of him, her arms splayed wide. Again, she appeared like a saintess to Marshal. But this time the image was tainted as the darkness grabbed the holy light and began to snuff it out. Diana crumpled to the ground, her eyes lifeless.

Marshal screamed.

He screamed and screamed, without any intention of stopping.

He screamed until his voice stopped working. By the time it did, the sky had already gone black, like a blanket covering the earth.

Protecting it.

Failing to protect it.

The moon was alone in the sky, and it shone gloriously through the windows. It had probably left a few hours ago, but Marshal just didn't care.

And now that he couldn't scream?

Now he cried.

It was pathetic, how he cried; and thinking of how pathetic he was just made him cry even more. He cried like a child who didn't get what they wanted, and he hated it. Marshal knew he had to stop eventually, but how could he when a young girl with a bright future had just died because of him?