What are you? What the hell are you? Loser, that's what you are. A loser. No friends, no family, no good job, just worries and troubles. Maybe that's why you did it, one night when you were all alone, the city was quieter than usual, your faithful cat friend didn't visit, and you found a forgotten bottle of alcohol on the shelf at home... Fun for a group of teenagers. Except you weren't a teenager anymore, and certainly not in your group of friends. You were alone, like always. Alone in a dingy apartment full of shadows and dark corners, intoxicated, desperate for any human contact. You just wanted someone to talk to. You made a pretty pathetic ouija board and started playing.

He's been with you ever since. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see his figure watching you silently, grinning. That fucking grin of his. Going to church didn't help, the holy pictures didn't help, and the cross? It just scared you when you woke up the next morning and found it turned upside down. The mark of the devil. What on earth did you bring home?

The best you could. The best gift God could ever give you.

You were sitting on the couch, reading a book. The golden rays of the sun were streaming into the living room, the gentle purring was echoing through the small apartment, and you... you were... maybe quite happy. In your lap rested a dark figure with a humanoid, rather masculine figure. A purring, like the cat that lay dead on the balcony, belly ripped open. A snack for your new friend. The demon opened his eyes, yawned, revealing his sharp fangs to you. His claws caught on the sofa, accidentally tearing its fabric. He stretched. "Mhmmm,-" Demon growled, his voice unearthly, rough and raspy. His gaze lingered on you, almost affectionate, if he was capable of anything like affection at all. But you didn't care, you were glad you weren't alone anymore. "Bored..." The Demon prawled more across your body, his hand casually knocking the book you were reading to the ground.