Page 4 of My Soul Is His

I remain inside, embracing her and pulling her close to me. With her in my arms, everything is okay, if only for a few minutes, before we have to face the world we live in now.

The pain hasn’t left her. It never does. She thinks I don’t know how much she wants the realm to be real, but I’d be an idiot not to see it.

My dove needs those who loved her just as deeply as I need her. I would give up anything so that she could live a life with peace.

“Is everything okay?” Marla asks me. “You’ve been distant.”

I kiss her shoulder and nuzzle into her. “How, my dove? I’m always with you.”

The last thing I want is for her to think I’m pulling away when I’ve only been doing my best to save her. My dick throbs inside her, and she nudges me. A light giggle leaves her.

“I’m not sure. Just a feeling, I guess.” She lets out a sigh. “We should get dressed. We have to do the walk-around.”

“I hate the walks. We shouldn’t have to welcome new people.” I kiss her neck as I ease out of her. Marla grabs for her clothes as I struggle with my jeans.

“Who else will do it?” As she combs her tresses with her fingers, she reaches for a particular sweater, one we stumbled upon while exploring Cavum Terra.

When Marla first came here, she could get answers from the three Lords, but they’ve been reclusive and happy to let her take the initiative with new people since.

I think she does a better job, but I still worry about her. Each new group of new souls puts her in a low state and I can’t pull her out of it. One day, I fear I’m going to lose her within her own mind.

“If you say so, my dove.” I exhale and run my hand through my hair before putting my baseball cap back on. “No one was therefor you. People couldn’t care less here. The Lords, or whatever the fuck they are, don’t care.”

She glares at me, crossing her arms over her chest before stalking off into the open spaces that hold all her demons.

I’ve been battling mine, but he’s an angry old bitch who’s easier to play with. I thought once I settled in, I would be given a demon worth my time, but compared to life, this seems like a cakewalk.

“Marla, wait!” I shout at her. As I jog to where she is, our hands interlock, and a sense of security washes over me. “I’ve told you not to go out on your own.”

Each day fills me with rage. Her demons rip her to shreds at every chance, but there’s not much I can do without being able to see them. I’m filled with bitter sorrow, knowing I can’t face them in battle.

We continue through the realm. The sky is a dark red and orange blend, and it’s always an eerie feeling when fresh bodies drop in. Terror is felt in ripples, and anguish from the new souls angers our own shadow demons.

“There’s been a rise in people,” she whispers.

“Earth was pretty shitty when we were there, and I suspect it hasn’t gotten any better.” I squeeze her hand.

She hoped that over time mental-health services would improve on the other side, but the reality is the government doesn’t give a shit about the people and never will.

With the higher-ups tracking the general population, they determine if someone is going to make a difference in society or if they should be put down. Those souls linger somewhere else though.

The heavy cloak of taking your own life burns through the ropes of meager support and it’s been our option.

Since the mental-health epidemic on Earth, the health services took a backseat when they couldn’t keep up with everyone. Lifeis hard enough when you can cope. It’s impossible when the demons in your mind take up residence and drag you to the edge.

Walking through the broken chunks of grass, the trails grow over quickly like strolling around would be a crime. Everything here is an uphill battle, nature attacks us almost as much as the demons.

As we cross one of the many bridges, we find a trio looking in all directions with their mouths agape.

“What the fuck is this place? Why am I here?” a tall blonde asks, and the dark-haired man behind her shakes as his hands snake around her waist.

With narrowed eyes, the girl scans the area, every rustle and snap making her more alert.

“Last thing you remember?” Marla asks.

She’s at least always straight to the point. This isn’t the place for warm embraces and gentle whispers. Everyone thus far has not responded to a sweet welcome, although in the early years of being here, we tried that approach.

Tears build in the eyes of all three, and the mohawk girl falls to her knees.

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