Sidhr Tree

He laughs, wiping spittle from his cheek. “But you love me.” It is more of a question than a statement.

I cannot deny the twisted affection I have for him. He is a lungful of air ten leagues under the sea. The only thing that makes sense in this cold world.

“Love is a disease,” I say, toying. That is my favorite game, playing with him. Just as he plays every day with me. Leopard and mouse.

“Everything is fatal. Why not gamble, peach princess?”

“Because I've never been lucky.”

“Fair point.” He lets me go and reaches into his pocket, withdrawing a cigarette. He spits sparks onto the end and lights it. “But a promise is a promise.” He takes a contemplative drag. “Your father said you would be mine. And so you are. The seven times three tithe to Hell.”

“What about my choice? Don't I choose whom I belong to, hmm? Are you so centuries out of fashion feminism has yet to dawn on your archaic empire?”

He smirks again. “You chose a long time ago. In the womb. I came to your sleeping soul and ma