“Th-that...”
If there was such a thing as an Anger Award, I'm pretty certain I would have gotten nominated.
I wanted to pound Jude to a pulp. Wring his stupid neck. Not that I could physically outmatch him, but it was always better to try, even with a broken arm. Truthfully, anything would’ve been better than to sit there and endure this torture.
“Th-that was the nastiest, the most disgusting thing I’ve ever experienced!” I screamed, “How unsanitary! Repulsive! Despicable! How could you just –”
Jude placed a finger on my lips, ever so rudely interrupting my ill-mannered rant.
“You want to know what’s unhygienic? Disgusting? I’ll show you.”
He brushed off some of the food residue and dribble from the bottom of my lips, then licked it off his finger, sending a flirtatious sneer in my direction.
Jude made a big show of savoring it, as if it were some five-course meal. “Hmm, lovely! What a delightful taste,” he said, “I ought to open my own restaurant. It should be called ‘Doggy Delight.’ Every recipe’s secret ingredient would be a sprinkle of your delicious saliva.” He puckered his lips and blew me a kiss.
I literally had to recite the “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star” song, in my head, to keep myself from puking out my existence. And from smacking him across the face.
“Will you carry on acting like a pampered brat or will I have to feed you the rest of your meal?” he said, twirling a piece of my hair with the finger he had in his damn mouth five seconds earlier, “Not that I mind though. Bratty, rude and sarcastic Damian are quite entertaining. Everything you do is cute.”
I snatched myself away from the contact and scowled at him.
Seriously, what the hell was wrong with this creep? Did his parents drop him on a concrete ground when he was a baby? Had his mother taken some type of drug while she'd been pregnant with him?
What did I even have against him? Was his heart made of ice? Could he not be defeated?
Angry tears formed at the corner of my eyes.
Jude laughed. “Easy there, sweetheart. I certainly didn't always eat my vegetables when I was a kid; but you did, huh? You're a big, strong boy. Big boys shouldn't cry over something so trivial. A little tongue and saliva wouldn't petrify someone like you, am I right?”
Oh, no. Please, don’t start crying again. Stay strong, Damian! Stay strong.
I bit my tongue to keep from exploding in fury. As I watched Jude cackling happily, like the maniacal devil he was, I did something I never thought I’d do.
It was as if everything was moving in slow motion.
I grabbed the edge of the tray with my free hand. Then, without a second thought whatsoever, I threw it at Jude with all my might. It bounced off his chest with a sickening THUD, cutting his laughter short.
The tray and bowl smashed into bits, staining the carpeted floor. Luxurious china pieces scattered across the ground, while the nasty goo dribbled down the front of his even more expensive outfit.
Jude’s eyes widened in disbelief.
“At least I never backstabbed the people I cared about!” I replied, “At least I never betrayed the trust of someone I supposedly loved to death! You see me as a pet because of your superior power, but let me tell you one thing, Jude: Money and power won’t ever be able to buy you balls as big as mine.”
In all honesty, I did not care about the low blow I’d hit him with. That’s how much he’d pissed me off. I’ve been with him for less than twenty-four hours and I already felt like ripping his guts apart and feeding it to the pigeons.
Oh, wait, no. I take that back. That would be too cruel to the pigeons. They didn’t deserve to be fed such poison.
I think it'd be better if I passed down Jude's remains to the cockroaches. If there was one species who was on par with Jude, it had to be the cockroaches. I mean, who in their right mind would even like those disgusting bugs?
Thinking about the similarities between a cockroach and Jude sent me into wild hysterics. I doubled up in laughter as if there was no tomorrow. This was too funny. The look on Jude's face, his mouth hanging open in shock, the way I had reversed the situation, everything, everything was just so damn hilarious!
I almost wished I had my cellphone. I could have taken a picture and uploaded it on the Internet. I might have made a meme out of it. Could even have brought me some extra money for my Grandma, as his facial expression would have gone viral and -
Grandma. Grandma!
Suddenly, I broke out of my insane fantasy, and was hit with reality.
I, Damian Kara, had just dumped repugnant dog-like food on Jude. I, Damian Kara, had just gone ballistic on him and said something I could never take back.
Mean Jude I could deal with. Annoying Jude I could snap at. Harassing Jude I could ignore. Nice Jude was rare, but equally scary because being nice wasn't necessarily in his nature.
But angry Jude? I'd already witnessed him in fury once. I remembered a whole pile of dead bodies under his feet. I remembered the terrorizing look he gave Daphne and I when we witnessed the scene.
I did not want to see that again. I did not want to be an addition to Mount Corpses.
So, why did I do this? Why risk the lives of other people for my own pride? Why risk my life?
Bracing myself for the worst, I watched as Jude slowly lifted his hand. I squeezed my eyes shut, prepping myself for the Punch of Severe Agony, or even worse, Double Neck Twist.
I uttered a silent prayer under my breath and waited.
Nothing happened. I reluctantly opened my eyes to see Jude’s purple aura enveloping him once again. The palm of his hand was suspended in midair, his hair flying upwards. Broken pieces of the china dish attracted themselves towards Jude's hand, like a magnet. When he had amassed them into a crumbled ball, Jude closed his fists and the pieces vanished into thin air.
Then, he scooped up the remaining globs of food on his shirt and lap, and gathered them into a small pile on the table. The look he gave me would have made any person, regardless of their being a cold-blooded murderer or a regular sales employee, cower in fear.
“There are things that you do not understand, Damian,” he said coldly, “Had you been born in a world like mine, you too would have lost your mind. You too would have lost sight of yourself. You have no idea what it's like to live with the constant pressure of assimilating and hiding. Assimilating to avoid discrimination by modern society. Hiding to avoid being seen by people like you, who are capable of differentiating between sorcerers and regular humans.”
“If a sorcerer breaks even one of these rules, they face rejection. Or even worse: execution, ordered by the government. Humans are terrified of our superior strength, so they will do anything to wipe us out, Damian,” he paused, his face a mask of deep abhorrence, “Anything.”
His words sunk in. For the first time in a while, I felt a twinge of pity for him. Sadness. I was appalled at the way I lashed out on him earlier.
Attacking him where I knew he was most vulnerable.
“I’m sor-”
Jude cut me off, back to his cheerful, casual self. “Plus, there are people starving all over the planet. It’s not good to waste food! The clothes, I don't care much about, but you broke my most expensive and favorite dish.”
Once again, he used his fingers to amass the goo, and brought it close to his mouth, the residue dripping down his arm.
“Now, I’m going to have to empty every drop into your mouth. Bad boy.”
Once again, I barely avoided choking to death. And this time, it lasted way more than a couple of seconds.
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