Broken: A love story

[poohlive]

Private, but read and enjoy. And of course, opinions are always welcome.

Michael woke up again, his eyes adjusting to the lights, his mind grasping on the visions that floated towards his consciousness. In a moment he would be up, he would scratch his ass, pee, get dressed, and wander out into the morning sun.

Now though, he basked in the glory. As the sun hit the window, it reflected right on him, as if some kid had positioned a magnifying glass, near perfect. He loved it, the pure warmth, the blinding light.

It hurt to feel this good, to be reminded. Nothing reminded him more of home than this moment, this early morning moment as the sun came in, warming him, baking him.

Sending tingles all up and down his body.

It was a new town. He had just gotten in last night. He drove in, stopping here only because he needed gas, and because he had smellled something in the air. Something acidic, something familiar.

He got his gas, and made his way to a hotel. A small seedy hotel in the middle of town, at least, the middle of the old part of town. Where graffiti houses and factories were set up, where cops did not patrol and most people pretended did not exist.

One of the hotel rooms. He made his way, kicking the door open.

There he stood, on top of this woman. She was tied to the bed, kicking, screaming, her eyes begging as the man drove himself into her. His eyes were wild, his hair a tangle of curls, his whole body taut, giving her everything he had.

"Aren't you two a pair," He pulled out the gun, as sweet as candy from his low riding holster. It had sat on his hip comfortably, fit into his hand even more so, and looked every bit as deadly.

He growled, low in his throat, pounding into this woman, taking her. His eyes were damn near insane. The insane eyes of the lost.

Two bullets, in the head. The body slumped over, on top of the powerless girl.

Michael reloaded the gun, putting it back in his holster.

"Get the fuck out..." Was all he said. She grabbed what was left of her clothes, kicked the dead body once, and then passed him on the way to the door. As she did, she caressedhis body, her lips coming next to his ear, whispering thanks.

She smelled of sex and sweat.

And that was it. The room, paid by the dead man himself, was paid for the rest of the week. Michael just pushed the body over, sleeping on the bed himself, sleeping throughout the night.

And now, in the morning, he could smell it again. Another scent catching him, another one in town.

Another hunt.

Michael smiled... He was dressed now. He had peed, he had scratched, and he had dressed.

Now, he hunted.

 

[AmbrosiaCaress]

She had made this town her home... why? Did that even matter anymore? Not really, home was home, such that it was. She moved around alot, not liking to stay in the same place for too long. Some called it a need to roam, others thought she was running from something or someone, neither were right. Still others thought she was searching, and maybe that was a little closer to the truth. Searching for peace, yet always finding... despair... and pain. Because SHE caused it.

Her last home, her last town, had been especially ugly for her. She had settled, some 2 years ago, finding a nice apartment, near the club that had hired her to dance, dance naked... She was good at that, dancing, dancing naked, her skills earned her a decent chunk of change, and a name in the inner circle. That is until she became... involved. She had let herself become emotionally involved, with the Owner of the Club. The man was married, with 2 kids, yet she could not help what happened, nor the consequences. That was how she captured the souls she needed, that was how she covetted, how she survived.

What she had to do was horrible, yet she had no other choice, if she did not feed the Pits of Damnation those very souls, her own would be ripped back into that hell, a hell she did not wish to revisit, a hell she had clawed her way out of, litterally...

She... was a demon. A soul raper. A evil that would tear the life and soul from a mortal to feed the even hungier spawn that she herself had escaped from.

She hated what she was, but accepted it. She tried to chose the lowest of the low, she tried to leave the more innocent alone. Hence why she danced, naked, in the various strip joints and underground bars that dotted the landscape... Only the lowest of the low went there, right? She would lure one into her web, and then, at their moment of weakness, usually during a heated lovemaking session, she would drag him into the darkness, into the pain, into .... hell.... Sometimes, in fact most times, the mortal, whomever he was, would die a screaming, painful death, without her having to lay a further hand on him. Other times, the shell of a man would survive, becoming the host for another demon...

She hated what she was and what she had to do...

But she was a Demon...

One would never know it looking at her. Pale skin, flawless and supple, with a mane that rivaled the fires of hell itself tumbling down her back... golden eyes that often glowed when she was about to strike, or, when she was in the midst of some intense emotion, whether that be passion, anger or fear. One would never know that she was a demon, a spawn from the bowels of hell, one that managed to claw her way out and did not want to go back. She never wanted to go back to that pain, that torture. The only way for her to remain free, was to feed the depths with sacraficial souls.

After the Club Owner, whom she had let herself have feelings for, who, had a family, who, was not the lowest of the low, she had left that city, opting to make her new home in a smaller, but no less notorious town. She would not let that happen again, that was for sure. No feelings. No emotions. No love.

She had gotten the job at the Club Inferno, a fitting name, the night she had come into town. The owner, a squirrelly little man, greasy, in a cheap suit with dirty hands, had been nearly drooling over the red haired beauty when she came in asking about dancing there.

"of course baby" he drooled.. He knew her, he had seen her dancing in the city, and now, he was lucky enough to have her dancing in his club, the Club Inferno. He got a hard on just thinking about it.

"You can start tomorrow night" he nodded "main stage"...

She secured a place to stay, a run down apartment near the Club that the sleazy owner also owned. She didn't much care, as long as it was a place to sleep. The Owner was nearly creaming his pants, that she would be living that close to him.

She had been in town for about 6 months now, dancing and living, staying distant from most people, even tho she got a dozen propostions a night it seemed.



This particular morning, she had awakened to the sun streaming in the window. "Gonna have to get new curtains for those" she mummbled to herself as she stumbled out of bed and made a cup of tea. She had wanted to sleep in, but the sun would not allow her that luxery. Oh well, she did not need much sleep anyways.. a few hours ever other day or so.

Her tea and toast accompany her into the shower...

Tying back her long red mane, slipping on a pair of jeans and a simple white tee shirt, she stepped out of her apartment and onto the street. This particular area of town was pretty barren, with factories and run down row houses. Grafitti was the only real color, and that marked almost every available surface. She could see the small seedy motel across the way and down about 2 blocks.

Just the night before, as she had been walking home from the Club, which was only around the corner, she had been nearly run over by a woman running from that motel's parking lot, nearly naked, bloodied, a look of haunting terror in her eyes. She had taken her to be a hooker, or so she thought, who had picked up the wrong "john" for the night. It had happened before, dead whores in this part of town, a couple found at that same motel.

Sometimes, the demon in her sent a woman's soul to the pits, the demons, many of them very male, often appreciated that and allowed her a bit more time before demanding the next. She had taken note of where the woman ran, what she looked like, her bleached blonde hair and large catlike green eyes. She was due to send a woman down soon, and a hooker would fit the bill.

But there was something else in the air this morn, something other than the memory of the hooker, something.... different... something she could not quite identify .. but it did make her pause, and gaze down at the motel, before finally turning her back to it and heading up the street in the opposite direction. There were things she needed to get done before her shift began tonight.......

********************************************************************************

Name : Mirria

Age: Looks to be 21... real age more like 365...

Physical Description: Mirria



She is a demon, living in the host of a human female. Every so often one can see the creature that lives within show, glowing golden hued eyes, razored fangs, her skin taking on a deepening firey hue.... but she had become well adept at hiding what she was, except for her eyes, which were a permanant gleaming gold color, no matter the host.....

She hates what she is, but knows what she must do. She is quiet, sensual, and strangely compassionate most of the time. She tries to only target the lowlifes, the criminals, the evil, and there were plenty in this world.

 

[poohlive]

He saw her right away, cute, lithe, nearly perfect. She could have any man wrapped around her little finger if she so chose. They often liked to use these bodies, use their appeal, their sexual nature to destroy and recruit new members.

How sad, they could pick some young nothing of a teen and transform them into a puppet for Satan himself.

He didn't want to intrude though. This was a rare glimpse he got into their lifestyle, their habits, much more information than he had gotten before. Most of the time they were in the heat of the moment, sex, murder, feasting on souls.

This one just walked down the street.

He trailed behind her, following, a shadow on the wall. His eyes open.

How interesting.

 

[AmbrosiaCaress]

Maybe it would be surprising to know that her life, in general, was boring. Mirria tried to live as normal, as mortal, a life as possible. This particular morning, she stopped at a couple of shops, took a walk in the park, fed the squirrels, then got herself a light lunch at the deli, chatting with the girl behind the counter.

She looked, and acted, like any normal mortal would. She had no reason to look or act otherwise, at least not at the moment.

She never realized that someone followed her, Mirria had never encountered a demon hunter before, or to put it more accurately, she had never encountered an angel before. What did impress her this day was that feeling, from the morning, that seemed to linger, to slither around her, a sense, that something was... well... different..

She brushed it off as just one of those days, after seeing the running crying hooker, after being awakened by the rays of the morning sun, now this, it was just one of those days.

She indeed did get a glimpse of a man, a couple of times during her morning errands, the same man, but when she would look again He would be gone. Again she chalked that up to one of those days, maybe He would be a potential target at some point, often that was how she first chose her target... her prey.. she noticed them...her senses were pretty good in picking the low lifes, at least until the last Club Owner... "don't think about that" she mummbled to herself...

That afternoon, she got home, and tried to take a quick nap, not that she needed sleep, she did not, and she ended up heading to work early at the Club. The Sleaze of an Owner never minded her coming in for an earlier shift, it often attracted more customers, made him more money. She was a wanted, a desired, commodity....

"Hey Benny" she called out to the Bartender... "where's Ted?"

Ted was the owner...

"back room Mirria... but I don't think he wants to be disturbed... He has Belle in there with him" Benny shook his head somewhat sadly.. Ted had a taste for... the dramatic.. was what Benny called it. He liked to tie up his girl of the moment and fuck them. Usually the girl did not mind, but Ted *wanted* them to mind, so to make the little sex session a bit more dramatic, he had taken to sometimes beating the girl with a riding crop. Benny was all for a little play and all, but Ted had no clue what he was doing. It was always an ugly mess...

Mirria rolled her eyes. He had suggested a *session* in his private office with her and she had just laughed. Mirria had been tortured and beaten and raped viciously in the pits of hell, she had screamed until her throat bled... she had begged until her voice was gone... anything that Ted could do to her would be small potatos... but then again Mirria had no intention of being taken that way ever again.... she hoped...

"I'll just leave him be then, I get to serving, entice the guys before dancing later" she grinned to Benny... she liked Benny...

 

[poohlive]

"I want that one," He said, aftering lighting a cigarette. He held a shot of whiskey in one hand, downing it, watching it get refilled from time to time. Just a shitty run down old place.

Although the name of the sign did intrigue him. He wondered if this was the only strip joint in town, or if she chose it on purpose.

The man behind the bar, Benny, had told him of private rooms. She had her own dance to do, out with all the others, out in the main show, but a private dance, a little of his own fun with the girl.

"Her, she's expensive man. Lot's a guys want a private dance with her."

The roll of twenties from the dead demon lying in his motel room was pushed to the bright young bar tender. The man was dead, he didn't need it anymore.

Benny made sure the money disappeared.

"Room 2, just sit back. And I don't want any shit back there. You do not touch, do you understand?"

Michael nodded, he understood how strip joints worked. He'd been to enough to understand. It was the way everything worked, the way that demons lived and thrived inside communities, they way they seemed to feed off the degenerate and scum of the earth, walking with junkies, pimping out whores, destroying the world one vice at a time.

It was almost perfect in its simplicity.

So, here he sat, his cloak opened up, the guns at his side, riding low in his hip, barely noticable unless one chose to look. He leaned against the far back of the wall, the small dance floor next to him, and some room down below if the girl chose to get close.

And, he hoped she would.

Because this one was new, this one was strange.

This one...

She had fed squirrels.

Michael needed to ask her about that.

 

[AmbrosiaCaress]

It was time, time for her to dance....

Mirria did love to dance....

Taking a deep breath.. the music slowly begins.. a rather melodic song..

Haunted by Evanescence...

Long lost words whisper slowly to me
Still can't find what keeps me here
When all this time I've been so hollow inside
I know you're still there

Her arms lift as her hips begin a sensual sway.. the long skirt, flowing, sensual, shifting and caressing along her form.. seeming to shimmer against the round touch of her hips.... her lace tank top, cradling the wieghted curve of her breasts.. ... slender fingers roam into her amazing crimson mane.. curling thru.. the silken tendrils lovingly kiss each length.. the music.. the words.. take her to the world where she dances.. for herself.. for him.. stepping forward.. hip rolling first one way.. then another.. side to side.. her body undulates within the light.. a moment later she is prowling the shadows... still the music.. the haunting lyrics .. move her..

Watching me, wanting me
I can feel you pull me down
Fearing you loving you
I won't let you pull me down

As the music floats into the air.. she lowers upon her knees... thighs part... arching back.. long tendrils of her hair spill backwards to brush the floor.. she rocks with the beat ..... feeling it, touching it, drinking it...

Reaching up.. her fingers curl under the lace tank top, ever so slowly she allows the lace to peel upwards, revealing the soft supple skin beneath...she seeming lost in the music as it flows around her... the lace kissing her breasts before releasing them.. and as she lifts forward .. it slips up and off her shoulders...

Lifting to her feet ... succulent breasts bared, tipped with pale pink nipples.. long skirt still swirling around her as she moves .. she kicks off her boots.. and glides across the stage.. turning to smile at.... Him.... she indeed saw Him, at the side of the stage...

Hunting you I can smell you - alive
Your heart pounding in my head

She moves, slithers, prowls across the stage.. dropping to her knees.. crawling.... slithering up the legs of a stageside customer.. straddling his lap.. her hips roll.. buck... the dampness of her panties beneath press and glide over the man's thighs as he grins like the chesire cat....

Watching me, wanting me
I can feel you pull me down
Saving me, raping me, watching me

She shimmys upon his lap.. still rocking her hips.. a glance to the One standing aside that small stage, watching her, intently.... she is back on the stage, the man reaching for her, but she slips away as she dances, then turns... a twirl and a glide she is at the pole.. wrapping fingers tight around the cool touch of metal.. she swirls.. coming to rest at the base of the pole..

Watching me, wanting me
I can let you pull me down
Fearing you... loving you
I can feel you pull me down

She unduates against the cool metal, aching back, red hair spilling down, breasts arced upwards. As she slowly comes forward, her skirt is slipped down over her hips, she rolls from the pool, lain upon her back, hips buck upwards to the beat of the music.. arching up, upon her knees, the skirt pools about her, once more on her feet and she is in panties only, black lace.

Turning.. lifting.. she leans to the pole.. sliding her back down... then back up that cool touch .. fingers slip inside her lace panties.. roaming down between her legs.. touching.. finding herself dripping wet.. she then caresses the panties down ... naked... she slithers around the pole.. letting her lips kiss along the metal lovingly.. she lowering down ...as if bowing before a Master...

The music was coming to a close.. at the base of pole.. one leg arched out.. the music fading.. she turns.. crawling .... laying back.. arching.. panting.. as silence again fills the Club.. only her harsh breathing is heard..

The hoots, hollars, obscene yelling starts almost immediately... she quickly gathering the money that is thrown her way....

"I understand You wish a private dance" she purrs to Him as she steps from the stage, her golden eyes clouding over for a moment upon looking at Him, had she seen Him before? Earlier that day? Her mind retreats back to her day, the shadow of a man following her??

But her thoughts are interrupted when Benny calls out to her...

"room 2 Mirria"

Ahh.. room 2, the most opulent room the Inferno Club has to offer... She nods to Him, then, wrapping a silken robe about her naked body... she turns back to Him...

"I will freshen up and will join You shortly... please follow Benny and he will show you the room and a drink if You desire"

She did not wait for an answer, disappearing behind the stage... the yelling for her still going on, Benny getting multiple private dance orders from the drunk patrons...

 

[poohlive]

"Scotch," He told Benny, "Double, no ice."

The drink soothed him, tried to quench the fire in his belly. Hmmm, but there were fires elsewhere which he could not quite simmer down. She had danced like a goddess, like a woman posessed with herself, making love in front of strangers, dancing as if only he were there.

That's probably how every guy saw it though, even the one she had grinded against, leaving his lap damp and his pocket empty.

The only part which ruined it, sickening him beyond was at the end, the way she slunk back onto the stage, picking up the wadded dollar bills. It seemed to emulate herself in every way.

The brilliance of an erotic dance had turned into some leering dirty old men paying to see a young girl's goods.

He didn't know why it sickened him and turned him on at the same time, but it did. And so he followed, without words, without clear thoughts in his head. He followed, wanting to see more.

He sat, the private booth, the one she wanted. A clear number 2 on the top, as if to make it official or something.

It was a smaller version of the stage outside, set for only a select audience. He sat there, taking those hard swallows of fire into his belly, his hand idly playing against the trigger of his gun.

Why hadn't he shot her yet?

Because she fascinated him, in a way no one else had before. He didn't think it was her beauty, he hoped not. They could provide many witchings, cast many spells, make even the hardest of men wrapped around their tiny little fingers.

Is that what she was doing, setting a trap for him, making him come back here?

If so, let it spring. He wanted to see what she had to offer, he wanted to be trapped by her, see her true strength. For, Michael knew, as much as he'd seen her, he'd barely scratched the surface of who she was.

He sipped his drink and waited, in the darkened twilight.

 

[AmbrosiaCaress]

Peering into the mirror, she decided, on the spur of the moment, to go with a more natural look for this private dance. In reality Mirria hated the look of caked makeup, that fake clown-like look. And, being the natural beauty that she was, makeup was not really needed. Then she got the flash of another idea, and hopped quickly into the shower.

When she emerged, she was still slightly wet, had a soft, black towel wrapped about her body, a bikini on beneath, her long flaming red hair hung down her back in dripping waves.

Grabbing a bottle of baby oil, she headed out for her *day at the beach*

She looked... absolutely stunning...

"Time to hunt" she whispered to herself, knowing that another soul needed to be cultivated soon. And this Man, whoever He was, had captured her attention.

The lights in the room went out completely, the music stopped, plunging the room into a dark silence...

"are You ready?" she asked from that darkness, her voice seeming to creep around Him, soft, enticing, seductive...

A soft, dim light flickered to life, illuminating her within that red hued glow.. the music began playing...

"Oh what a Night, Late December back in 63"

She had chosen an oldy but a goody to dance to...


"Oh what a night.. Late December back in 63.. what a very special time for me.. "

She glides onstage.. towel lightly drapped over her shoulder.. bottle of baby oil in hand.. her leopard print bikini barely covering her curves..

The towel flutters down.. as the music plays.. the melodies.. the notes.. the instruments.. the voices.. taking her away... as she dances... a spin.. her long still damp hair.. flips and whirls around her.. she lowers down to the towel.. laying back.. arching her spine.. as the music plays.. with a slow deliberate motion.. the baby oil is opened... slender fingers begin a slow caress.. spreading the slick lubricant along her tender flesh... skin glistening.. she turning.. lifting... the music plays on... she shimmys.. shakes... approaching Him as he sits at the side of the stage... fingertips touch His cheek.. she turns.. reaching back.. the bikini top is loosened.. slips off.. falling to the floor before her... her breasts bared, tipped with dark pinkened nipples.... she dancing across the stage.. twirling about the provided pole.. arching back.. hips sway.. undulate.. she sinks back to the towel.. the oil wets her fingers again.. and is slithered over her skin... she lifts her hips.. slipping off the bikini bottom.. as she stands.. the towel is drawn up and around her.. she moves to the edge of the stage.. approaching Him, closer... closer... until she is almost in His lap... she could feel a strength about Him, something almost sinister.. something she was not sure she liked, and it made her falter for a moment... before she backs slowly away.... she continueing the dance, the dance just for Him... her fingers curling into her long mane, the damp red hair cascading about her.... the towel wraps about hips and then opens.. allowing a glimpse of her sweet sex... turning .. she bends to shake her ass at Him..

Then her dance is done.. the music fades... she sinking to her knees.. naked.. the towel on the stage before her.. she was panting slightly...

Mirria was not entirely happy with her dance... she was unsure what was throwing her off, Him, or just the fact that she had to hunt again, and was tired..

Upon hands and knees, the towel left on the small stage, Mirria crawls to Him, as if offering herself to Him. Of course she wasn't, this was all just part of the .. game..

"I hope... You were pleased" she purrs softly...

 

[poohlive]

"I am ecstatic," He said, his heart beating hard in his chest. God, there was something about her. The way she moved, her body on fire, her hands pressing against her skin the way a lover would.

The way he wanted to.

One hand went down to her thong bikini, opening it up, letting it stretch against the skin. Just far enough to him to get a look, some dirty old man peep before he placed the money against her and let the bikini go back into place, keeping it there.

"You are very good, but I imagine you have been doing this for awhile, haven't you? Seducing men, it must be a real thrill for you."

What was he doing? He could feel it, this pause to linger, this moment of hesitation. He had his hand on his gun ever since she had stepped out, but refused to bring it out. What was she doing?

Could this be her trick, her trap? Was she playing him even now as she lay breathless before him, her legs spread, her wet hair dripping down onto the stage.

"How long have you been doing this, years, decades? Certainly not in the same body... certainly not as the same woman. You've lingered long against these humans, you've gotten comfortable."

He was on her, the moment he saw a flickering in her eyes, grabbing her hair, pushing her down with him, her back against the stage, kneeling in front of him.

The gun, oh God, it felt soo good to finally be within his hands, to hold it, bring it out, let her watch as it hung, like thick fog, pointed against that pretty perfect little head of hers.

"I need to know how long... I want to know," He said, looking at her, examining her for the first time.

Down each side of the gun were symbols, symbols of holy power, original letters in the bible, unscripted, untranslated. The fiery sword of God... a mighty weapon aflame with his power.

When the gun touched her, her skin sizzled. He only held it to her temple for a moment. Only long enough to let her feel her own mortality.

 

[AmbrosiaCaress]

"You are very good, but I imagine you have been doing this for awhile, haven't you? Seducing men, it must be a real thrill for you."
"How long have you been doing this, years, decades? Certainly not in the same body... certainly not as the same woman. You've lingered long against these humans, you've gotten comfortable."

His words cut into the silence, the darkness, surprising her. She stared up at Him, for a moment so taken aback that words would not come. How... How did He know?????

"What are You......................."

He pounced on her, one hand wrapping into her long crimson mane, painfully yanking her head back... He rearing over her, she falling backwards, spine arching as she is pinned easily to the floor, her thong, a bare covering of the thinnest material that she wore when dancing privately, cutting into her flesh...

She opened her mouth to scream, but instead she went deathly silent. Her golden gaze alighting upon the gun, now resting comfortably in His hand. It was not the weapon that frightened her, to be honest a normal every day gun would not kill her, maybe the body she were in, but not her, but this one, this one was inscribed with .... with... the words of the Holy.... the symbols of the Angels.... The power that was even now seeping from this weapon could easily kill her, should He chose to release it...

"I need to know how long... I want to know,"

He held the barrel to her temple, she could feel the firey heat within, fire, flames, heat, that wished to consume her, more powerful than the depths of hell itself..

Closing her eyes, she whispered... "please.... this body is an innocent, don't harm the innocent soul within. I... I will vacate and You can take me then, just spare this mortal, please"

Mirria was trembling, having never faced an Angel before, having dealt only with the most horrific of demons. She had escaped the very pits of hell and now she was about to be sent back, screaming in agony, by an Angel, not another Demon...

Tears formed, spilling out, down her cheeks, wetting the surface, warm, salty, and very real. It was not the mortal that was crying, it was the demon within, it was her tears that fell... from beneath the closed lashes.

"please" she begged again, finally opening those eyes to look at the Angel, the Man, over her... She not begging for her own life, but the life of the girl she had taken...

 

[poohlive]

"Take you, and leave the mortal be?"

How many things were wrong with this phrase? He could think of several, but right now it just smelled all wrong. A trap, he looked around, letting go of her, his guns swinging wildly to the exits, the entrances. Had he missed something, was Benny one of her loyal followers, willing to sacrifice himself so she could live on?

No, nothing, no one. He stared around her, as she had huddled against the floor, looking to one exit and then the other. He was waiting for a war, and all he got was a snivelling girl at his feet.

"What game are you playing?" He asked, this not as sinister as before, not as harsh. He had asked her questions before to put fear into her, to show her his true strength, but now, brow furrowed, head cocked to one side, and looking for an onslaught of minions at any second, all he could do was stare confusingly at the girl at his feet.

She had stripped the power from him with one simple request. All he had left was paranoia. The paranoia of a new twist being played at a very old game.

Demons, by nature were slick and sly. They loved to play games, their heart was always in it. In order to escape capture, and worse death (although, death for them only meant, at best, deportation back to hell, where they are tortured eternally for millenia), they would do anything they possibly could.

It took him a while to realize that there was no trap after all, nothing to be set on him, only her. A demon with a conscious, like a hooker with a heart of gold in some bad romance novel.

Michael leaned down on one knee, looking at her, his gun hanging limp in his hand, not even pointed in her general direction.

"Now I am just dying to know this, my little horned demon, why would you sacrifice yourself in order to let some innocent girl live?"