A vein in my forehead throbs as I stalk out to my car, throw it in drive as soon as it starts, and fly

  into the elevator.

  I tap my finger on the wheel as I clench so hard my knuckles turn white.

  When the elevator thuds to a stop, I clench my teeth and shift my car into manual transmission.

  I throw it into the first, and slam my foot to the floor. When the needle hits the red, I throw the gear into two. And so on.

  As I was driving, I realized I never learned how to drive a manual, I’m just throwing it into the next gear.

  Feeling awkward, I slow the car and shift back into automatic. Then I slam my foot down and my car does a two wheel as it roars forward.

  I hit a turn and drift. I don't let up on the gas until I start nearing towns and cars.

  Easing off the gas, I slow and note I'm only ten minutes away from the school and have another hour before the ring starts. I suppose I shouldn't have stormed out of my house like that.

  I'm nervous too, this is my first time in this specific ring. I pull into a convenience store's parking lot and park.

  I sit for a moment as my stomach swirls. I'm not nervous, rather excited.

  Today has been so weird. I've been switching from the inner voice of a RomCom main character and with the inner voice of jeffery dahmer, just without the zest. I lean my forehead against the wheel and drum my fingers against it.

  I am not going to kill her. We are simply fighting. No death. Just fight.

  “Do you get that, Wrath?” I mutter.

  “No. I'm going to kill her.” he hisses.

  “Dumbass.”

  “Weakfist.”

  “Intangible.”

  “Groomable.”

  “Cops hate you.”

  “Racist humor is outdated.”

  “No it's not, you are. You are a literal demon. You are literally a couple millenniums old.”

  “So you admit I am a demon and not DID?”

  “Fuck no.”

  “Let's go to the bunker now.” He grumbles quietly, stung by my refusal of his existence.

  “Agreed.”

  I open the door and step out. I grab my bag with my stuff and while casting a look around, creep into the woods behind.

  Back in world war two, or I assume it is. I'm not sure. Japan might not have even made bunkers. Well, there is one. And its cold war feel. I googled a lot of bunkers in America and stuff. Damn I wish I lived in America. I swear my spirit animal is a bald eagle.

  CAW!

  I chuckle at my ridiculous inner thoughts.

  “You would like America. Lots of violence.” He growls.

  Well that's nice to know?

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  “It’s you who loves fighting. I fight because then you get grumpy. Er, well…sorta? You kinda take over and go crazy. The police are still looking for me after you murdered that whole town, and when you left your little note, you just said you loved the fun, put down a fake name, and now I can't ever go back to Taiwan!” I grunt.

  “Erm…hey that girl is here! ” he shouts to distract me.

  Raising my eyes from leaf littered ground, it actually is her.

  But now, her hair is brushed and you can see its true length. It's silky and black, and flows straight down to her waist. Though it's not much, she seems very short. But as I get closer, I find she is actually quite tall, almost as tall as me, and in Asia, that's a crazy achievement.

  I stand around or about six freedom units, feet, duh, give or take a couple inches.

  She seems around maybe 5‘9? Impressive. I believe the average height here is around 5‘3 for girls.

  I get nearer, and notice she's carrying a bag. By now, I'm close enough for her to notice, and her face lights up with a smile and she waves at me shyly.

  “Hi!” She whispers. “Um…I made you this bento for dinner!” She extends the bag to me. “Can't do whatever we're doing here hungry.” She whispers.

  She seems like a quiet girl.

  “Well, I kinda had a salad back at my place…” I start before noticing her look.

  “But I made this for you…” she smiles, a dangerous look descending on her face. Her face tilts forward and a shadow descends on her eyes, her irises looking a little pink. Weird. I zone out observing her, so she cuts into my thoughts. “It'd be a shame if you disappeared before we could do whatever we are doing here…” she whispers menacingly.

  I snicker for a moment before bursting out laughing, tears welling in my eyes. I double over, my gut hurting from my laughter, but when I take my hand off it, they are stained red.

  “Wha?” I mumble as my conscience starts to fade.

  I look up at her as the dark encroaches on my sight.

  “You thought I wouldn't do anything when you refused it?” She whispers, trailing her bloodstained fingers across her face, as she takes my bag and smells it.

  “It smells of you. So nice…now I just need to make a perfume like it.” She murmurs.

  As her back is turned, I sit up and bandage it. She really saw me not blackout being maimed and bleeding out and thought I would die from this? All she did was tear my stitches.

  It's a good thing I always kept a medkit in my bag though. It's usually for after fights if I get really hurt in the ring.

  Thank whoever gave humanity the ability to plan ahead.

  As she sniffs it like a madman, I stand up and although still a little unsteady, tap her shoulder.

  She spins around and I grab her knife and knock her out with the butt of it. She crumples onto my arm as I hold her up. I'd feel bad if her nice hair got leaves and dirt in it.

  “What a shame.” I say, tapping my chin as I wonder what to do.

  “Indeed. How sad she never got to train her killing skills with us…” Wrath grunts.

  “Yeah…Hey! You got me sounding like a psychopath!” I yell at him.

  “Not my fault you are.” He replies.

  “Its not! Because I'm a violent sociopath! There's a difference!” I shout.

  “Sure, whatever you say, love.”

  “Well, what shall we do now? Should I message the guys in group chat and tell them that today's fights are off? And then we lug her in there and hang her up in those spare chains?” I muse aloud.

  “Sounds good to me.” Wrath replies half-minded.

  “On we go then.”

  I heave her over my shoulder and continue to uncover the bunker entrance. I had covered it with bushes and let them grow. The only part not covered with live foliage is the door itself, which is covered with camouflage. It makes me wonder how she found it. It really does look like a bush.

  With a silent push, the blast-door opens with no sound. I knew that WD-40 was a good investment. It took me like three cans of it.

  The stairs descend into the darkness as I stare down. I really wish I put up lighting before this. It's only at the bottom. I sigh and start my blind descent.

  As I go down, I get smacked in the face by some ivy.

  Sputtering, I wave it out of the way, and start groping around for the lightswitch at the bottom.

  “You a dumbass? Being a vessel for me has more than just the title. Close your eyes and snap your fingers.” Wrath grumbles.

  Mildly curious, I do it, and see the whole room appear in blue lines, though it's still all dark. It's like playing with echolocation, but with different rules because it's not fading.

  “Now open your eyes.” He rumbles smugly.

  Doing so, I see the air right in front of my eyes glow red.

  Me with a brain realizes my eyes are glowing dark red.

  I assume it's Wrath. But…that means he isn't DID… no, I refuse it.

  With no more of a need to have lights, with the blue lines still remaining even with my eyes open, I grab the chain and wrap it around her body before attaching it to the metal rail in the middle of the ceiling. Makes me wonder why all this stuff was doing here anyways.

  I grab an old steel chair and sit on it backwards as I sit my chin and my arms on top of the back of the chair.

  Well, now all we have to do is wait.