Something that you dare not know between a demon and a devil.

"You promised you would never lie, but how can you not try and hide yourself when the real essence of things is all but truthful? You promised to never declare lashings again, but you eat your words..."

So, there it was, a demon lay in front of me, on the bed which was mine a moment ago. I don't look down on it; why look down on a demon knowing it would sear through your soul when you do? They are high beings on where they tread. Who are we, on earth, to look down on them? To belittle what they can do?

My soul shivers with the only thought that graced my mind: What was it doing here? Have I done enough deeds that the demons would want to fetch me by themselves, not waiting for the day that I go to them myself? Have I caused enough on my own that they needed to be there when I cause again, or have they ran out of ideas and need me to help them? I couldn't think. My mind was a mess.

Smitten by his figure, I gasped sharply as it looked at me, straight in the eye. I know I've lost my soul right there. It stared at me, blankly, yet deeply. The smirk at the end of its rouge lips sent millions of snakes slithering down my spine intertwining with each other as they reached the base of my back and lay there heavily. I fell off the weight on my back, landing on the bed that was beside his. I've never found use for this bed, now I know why it was here, to catch me on the night that the demon has come to take me. I'm empty, but never scared. He was sure of this.

"Do you wish to know lies?" it asked, not lifting itself from the weight that held him on my bed. His long fingernails tapped noiselessly on the sheets and slightly pierced the cotton underneath. I could hear him as he heaved in and out the heavy air of my room. I could see his chest rise from the pressure he was exerting only to breathe. Every muscle in his body seemed to have tightened. He was relaxed, I am sure of this.

"Answer me."

I stared at him, barren and dazed, I stared at him. He seemed to be enjoying this gesture, knowing that I could not look him in the eye and yet I desire to gaze at him. His was a languid feature. His hair was brown and draped a mess on his forehead, scattered on my white sheets like vines that fell from an old balete. His skin, ah, his skin. His skin was nothing of the burnt sort, not the skin that was supposedly burnt to a tender crisp by the rings of hell. No, it was of pure milky white, seemingly innocent and untouched. There were no striking marks on his skin. He was not the hairy beast that we have portrayed him to b; he was clean of this. His legs hung from the side of the bed as if he was sitting. They were strained, maybe from the walk he had when going here. Wait, do demons walk? Of course they do, I am sure of this.

"Lies? What more is there about lies?" Finally, I spoke! My heart didn't seem to be holding on to that anchor that settled itself on the pit of my stomach. It let me speak before this demon and it seems to be excited and relaxed with this being in front of me. My heart seems to have raced and jumped and pounded and excited and aroused from the very cage that it was in. How can one draw such excitement from my heart, when even the best of news could not move it? No prayer, no ritual, no provocation, no obscenity could call for the slightest reaction. Yet my heart was happy, and I didn't know why.

"I know they are my companions. I know that I am not allowed to lie yet I still do. What more is there about lies?" I answered, lowering my shoulders as I supported my own weight. I lifted my right leg to be on top of my left thigh using my ankle as the only support. My fingers lay on top of each other in a soft clasp as I rested on one of the many pillows on the bed, slanting my body as I do this. My eyelids fell on my eyes in a swift motion. Blinking once, blinking twice. I was nervous, tensed, tight. He couldn't see me, but he was sure of this.

"What more do you know?" no movement came from him. Only the slow tantalizing parting of his lips as words escapes him. He was trying to place his words carefully, not wanting to let go of any phrase that might make me wonder of what he was really thinking. "Should there be more knowledge to this simple art that humans have perfected? To lie in one breath of air? Do I even need to teach you anything?" His lips were full; they left marks on my mind, scathing marks. They were the only things that I could remember before I fell on this bed, and they will be what I need to know to be sure: He was saying the truth. I am sure of this.

My lips parted slightly wanting to speak but, now, I couldn't. I only shifted in my place and watched him pull himself up from my bed. Now I see him, he was beautiful. His eyes were the softest red and his canines protruded, overlapping his lower lip. His collarbone emphasized the manly figure that he was. His arms fell slowly to his thighs as his back was bent forward. His shoulders were hunched, moving only when he breathed. His head leaned to the side as he pouted his lips. His eyes, full of knowledge, looked back at me. Although he didn't bulge of muscles, he didn't lack in them either. They were there, I noticed them. The amount of muscles he had were enough to toss any damned soul to wherever he pleased. His legs were sculpted in a way that was ready to pounce on you, on anybody he wished to. He was naked, but this wasn't the center of my attention. It was his heart. It was bleeding. He knows I can see it. He was sure of this.

"Let me tell you something about lies my dear." he whispered motioning for me to come closer and I did, "Come, lies are not to be afraid of." He breathed rather than spoke. "They are your armaments. They are and will only be the things that will keep you alive. Which is why you must treat them with respect." He stood from where he was as he pushed my forehead back gently with his index finger. He turned his back on me and walked his way to the window. Looking out he said, "You people have perfected the art of using it that we are humiliated and embarrassed to even call ourselves demons..." he laughed as he said this, "We pale in bitter comparison!"

"Why so?" I asked, trying to stand but he bade me to sit still. He wanted to be the only one standing. He said, it was to respect the greatness that was in front of him.

"Well…", he thought, "Only you people could lie in the face of those of whom you love. Only you people have enough courage to use a lie as an escape each and every time when an apology is enough to save your face. Only you people could know how to use a lie as well as you do.", His explanation was clear, but why was I confused? A demon is praising us for the lies we make. He was applauding us for using it well and wisely, he said. We made him pale in comparison to us.

"Oh! Where are my manners!" he smacked himself on the forehead in a forgetful gesture. He turned to face me and curtsied like a gentleman, "I am Anatharsis. Master of Lies and Ruler of Deceit." He kneeled on one knee and took my hand in his. "A pleasure to meet you." he kissed it tenderly leaving a bloody mark on the spot where he did. I wasn't bleeding, but I wanted to. I was about to tell him my name when he hushed me like he would to a child, "No, no names my dear." he begged looking at only my lips. I asked him why. He sighed and reminded me that if a demon would know one's name, that demon would own you for eternity.

"And a day!" he added, trying to be so playful with me, concealing his true nature. I know he wasn't lying, I am sure of this.

"Why are you telling me all this?" I couldn't just sit idly by anymore, I wanted to know what was going on. Why did he come here, why to me? I never lied for the world to be caught in it. I never used to it, well, not today.

"Hm?" he tilted his head to the side, still staring at my lips. "I tell you this because I feel like it. Tell me...", he coaxed caressing my cheeks with only his finger, careful not to hurt me with his fingernails, "What do you think a lie is for?"

What a lie is for! What a question, a very idiotic question that this demon would ask me. I wanted to say, 'how would I know if you are the one who created it?' I wanted to laugh at him and tell him to go now and leave me be. He left my bed in such a mess it would be hard to sleep on it, but he left a strange scent on it. A scent that tempted me to bury my face in the sheets, not wanting to wait for him to leave. It was a scent which made me want to forget every inhibition. That made me want to forget he was a demon. So I searched for an answer. I wanted to answer him right away. "We have lies to protect our hearts from the people around us. We lie because we cannot escape the truth and this is the only way of holding it back. These lies are there because we choose them to be and these lies is what is truly essential."

"WRONG!" he shouted, slapping me with the back of his hand sending my head crashing to the headboard. I was shocked. I was still. I was in pain. And I loved it.

He followed me soon after caressing my face again in an apologetic manner. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry." he repeated, over and over again wiping the blood from my forehead. He looked at me lovingly but he didn't peer into my eyes. I stared back at him but only to his chin. That was the only thing I could see, the rest, he hid from me. "But you gave the wrong answer." he pulled back, sitting on the bed again. "Come on, " he cooed, "I know you have a better answer than that." I looked at him, questioning what he meant, and then I remembered. What he wanted to hear, maybe the reason why he wanted to see me.

"What is a lie?" I repeated, ready to answer his question. "No heart, no mind, no soul. This is a lie. It escapes you. It breathes on its own, devouring truth as the want of it to live surpasses any other want. It dwells in you in a massive endeavor to find new life, a new beginning. It starts as a small seed,-- " he stopped me.

"Ah-ah-ah, its not a seed." he raised his eyebrow, "It is a..", he was searching for words, "A larva. A little larva trying to become a full-grown fly. There! That's a better word." he looked back at me smiling. He then shook his head and laughed at himself. "Oh, mind my manners, I'm sorry. Go on."

I looked his fingernails as he scratched his arm. I looked to my left only seeing my lampshade turned on. Its base was a woman, maybe during the Victorian period. She was holding a parasol and she was sculpted in such a way that it would look the wind was blowing through her hair. Nothing special, I just thought I'd mind it for a while.

I continued, "Like a larva," I repeated, "settling on the outside of your heart so you couldn't feel its presence, for what is outside the heart is not the matter of the heart. The heart is a very selfish and controlled substance; it is not what others portray it to be. It is a substance that knows pride, not humility. Power, not compassion. Prejudice, not courage. Hate, not love." Here, I stopped. He was smirking so temptingly that I just couldn't help but look at him, his lips rather. I was still careful of not to look him in the eye. I was saying something that he loved. My words were pleasing him, and my heart jumped higher, pounded harder. "Yes, hate and not love," I pressed on, wanting to hear him smile and see him laugh, I pressed on. "For in hating, the heart learns to love what it can hate less. It learns to let this hatred in with little of the sort. The heart knows only to love itself, and to love you..." I paused for a while, taking my time to poke him playfully in the middle of his chest. He looked at where my finger was and just smiled with his head bent watching every movement my finger was making.

"Go on." he commanded and I did.

"...the owner is not itself. It is prideful. It lifts its head high, as it knows that it is the one that keeps you alive. You don't own it. It owns you. It is not a very loving being. What it can abhor, it abhors and what it can only hate, it will hate. For the littlest things that we do, we would see that when it is the person we know that we love the most, is hated with ease,--"

"Stop! You're making my hair stand on end." he exclaimed. I seem to be tickling his fancy. He was enjoying the way I tore down the human heart. He was feasting on the angst-ridden explanation that I was giving. He was completely thrilled by this and now I know why he wanted to speak to me, but my next statement would kill him.

"...but sometimes, the heart is stubborn." I emphasized on this, for this is the most cruel thing that the heart can do and now I will make it known to him that the heart knows little compassion.

"It chooses to forgive, in pity for the person it owns. To forgive is the only good thing that it knows to do, and it doesn't do it any good or it doesn't do the person any good." I threw my head back in perfect frustration. He saw this and for a moment, I felt a glint of desire on my body and it was utter ecstasy. "What simple irony, yet so deadly and coveted as a sin. The heart is not only the heart, it is connected to many things in the body in many ways. It can steal your sight, letting you fall blindly into a mess. It can muzzle your hearing to let you hear only what it wants you to hear. It can steal your voice leaving you only with nothing to express how you feel. To express the feelings that it dictates." I stopped and silence fell in between us for a moment's worth. He waited patiently, as if knowing there was still more to come, and he was right. There was. I held the cross that was hanging around my neck. I held it for courage with what I am about to say. "Now it affects me, it steals my words, my voice and my thoughts. Now I cannot talk. I cannot move and I cannot react. The words are menial to me now. This is what emptiness is for and this is what a lie is for."

He rose, applauded me with pure bliss. I couldn't help but get up and give him a bow. "Bravo!" he said, proudly clapping his hands. "That was moving and so delightful to the ears! You are by far the most sensible human being I have ever conversed with." He smiled, ear to ear, with total glee. I pleased him and it made him happy. He moved closer to me, crawling on the bed, and he gave my nose a little peck. A gesture that surprised me, he was such a happy little devil.

"Oh no." he stopped, pinching my cheek and pulling on it a bit, "I'm not a devil. I'm a demon. A demon." He reminded me playfully. "There's a big difference between us. So don't mistake me for it."

"Alright. I'm sorry." I apologized. I didn't want to offend him. For the littlest time that I've sat here, listening to him, I felt my heart pound again, this time for something of desire, something that was not of disappointment, frustration, or any of the sort. Imagine, a demon giving life to a lifeless heart.

"Let me see…" he thought loudly, "There was a promise you made before, a promise you said...", and with a slow movement of his hands, he made poured himself a glass of red wine. He had picked up the bottle from the tabletop and the wine glass from thin air. The liquid flowed smoothly from the bottle to the glass and he filled it to the rim. Swirling the glass, he showed it to me, "What do you imagine this is?" he asked. I peered into the glass and I saw myself in it. Stating a promise, I said and when, I will never know. A promise to never lie.

"A promise to never lie..." He sighed as if knowing what I was thinking. He bowed to acquiesce, "You want to deny yourself of this beauty? Of this art?" He snapped his fingers and spun around as thinking of his next move. He tapped his foot on the wooden floor and grazed his fingers though his hair, scratching as he goes by. He made sounds with his tongue, clicking on the roof of his mouth and then he guzzled down the wine in his hand. He was panting again, thinking of his next move. He was again relaxed, I am sure of this.

"I found it." he smiled.

"Found what?" I asked, scurrying slowly to go beside him. He held a scroll in his hand and kept on tapping it on his forehead. I peered over his shoulder, a new found comfort as I played with this demon.

"The reason why I'm here." He looked at me, deadly on my lips. His canines were moist from the saliva on his tongue. His fingers curled slowly, knuckles popped with every slow and agonizing movement. I felt erotic, I felt excited. I moved back, his gaze was pushing me. On the bed...

"No," he put a stop to my thoughts "On the floor." He pushed me slightly and my body followed suit. I fell on the floor hurting my back, it didn't matter. Everything was painful already, what's a little ache? I looked at him, well, at least the shadow that surrounded him. He kept me in check, he took my chin in between his thumb and his finger, lifting my face up to him. "Close your eyes..." he reminded, "I don't want to own your soul."

"Why?" I asked, shyly lifting my hand to embrace his neck.

"What is a lie for?" he asked again, now whispering it to my ear. I felt his lips touch my ear slightly. Now the snakes turned into feathers, tickling my back slowly. No, it wasn't feathers, it was his fingernails. They were digging into my back, into my skin, but he was careful not to touch my flesh. A queer demon. He beckoned my moans as he traced my body with his finger, his arm embracing me tenderly, but as his embrace tightens so do the nails sink deeper within me. My back, already bleeding was sending not pain, but pleasure. It was feeling all this and more for this creature that was holding on to me. My clothes were non-existent, torn away from by body. Slowly, he removed them, biting, tearing and, with my skin, burning. His gaze bore a hole on every part of me that he looked. He caressed me, gently wounding me with his teeth. I arched my back, only slightly. I was feeling pleasure. He was sure of this.

"Why don't you tell me what a lie is for?" I threw the question back at him, anger was slowly turning itself over in my chest as it unhooked the anchor that was pitted by my heart. I scratched him; he grimaced but it was followed shortly by a coy smile. A perfect sign he was ready to answer me.

"A lie is for the heart," he started, licking and kissing on my neck. His hands were starting to explore my body. I closed my eyes and listened to him speak. My body was busy with something else. "...for so it will learn how to feel." he pulled me closer, stronger, fixing himself on top of me slowly rubbing his body on mine. "A lie lives outside the heart so that the heart would not know that it is there. One, they say, can live freely with the truth and only the truth, but the person who said this is lying." The last word he growled. It made him bury his nails deeper and his bite harder. I gasped in pleasure and bit him back as well. I didn't want to scream. He might find it off, so I kept silent. I am sure of this.

"Go on. Please." I begged. No, pleaded.

"Of course..." he replied as he kissed me on my forehead. He continued. "No one man can live without saying a lie, for if he does, he is controlled by his heart and not his impulse, not his ability to lie and not his instincts. He isn't human." His hands trailed lower, down to my stomach. His gaze lingered on my lower body, he wanted to take me, but he knew his time, and it wasn't now.

"Tell me, are you human?" He asked caressing my thighs, his knee feeling the moisture in between my legs.

"Yes, I am." I answered with my mouth slightly parted, letting out moans in between. He licked his lips and they found their place on my breasts sucking, biting and kissing in places that I never thought existed. "Perfectly human."

"That's good." his fingers showed me he was pleased with me, finding my soul inside me. He was pleased and now his fingers were rewarding me. "Only one," he said, "I'm not quite finished yet." I nodded and let him continue. "

"Lying is not a mess; it is the organizer of things. It is the underlying word beneath the truth that we dread, the truth that hurts us the most. We hide behind these lies, knowing and feeling deep within our minds that for once we are safe." he thrusted another finger in me, making me gasp harder, louder, even letting out a scream. It was pleasure that made my heart race, but I know he wasn't done.

"We are protected." his teeth bit harder on my breast, "We are lying." My back was now bloodied from his nails. I cried out to him, I do not know his name, and he doesn't know mine. We did not want to own each other. We only let our bodies play amongst themselves.

"Do not hold truth so high, only lying can be that way, for lying pacifies the hating heart." Now he places himself directly in between my legs. He looked at me, avoiding my eyes and then he bent lower, breathing on my neck and only reaching for my ear. "It convinces it to love, to laugh, to be with compassion, to let go of pride and to have courage."

He took my right leg and placed it on his shoulder, using only my ankle to support it. He was poising himself while I was heaving in and out the heavy air of the room. "The heart needs lies to help itself sustain the beating that it knows will make it live," he pushed inside me, deep inside me. He touched my soul, letting it go.

"And not the human who embodies it."

I screamed, I shouted and writhed in absolute pleasure. I grabbed onto the foot of the bed pulling hard as I arched my back higher and higher with every spasm that he sent me. Pleasure came in waves, and this was more than just that. He smiled down on me, continuing what he was doing. Idle hands can do the best things.

"It teaches the heart to respect the human it dwells in--" He stopped, the sight of my two eyes peering into his stopped him. I had managed to pull myself up and capture him in a raptured embrace. Pleasure, desire, need, anger, confusion, frustration everything! Every one of those were in my eyes peering at him. They wanted to eat him whole. "It teaches the human to be the mindful that the heart is there."

I interrupted, biting my lips to make them bleed. He lifted his finger as he tried to conceal a pleased and contented smile as he watched me pant and struggle to make myself bleed. He placed his finger on my lips and wounded me. I moved closer to him, beckoning him to kiss me and he did. His lips placed themselves on mine, burning the skin in sweet sadistic pleasure and his eyes not leaving mine as mine not leaving his. We owned each other. All he needed now was my name.

" A lie is not a sin," I continued, lifting the kiss only momentarily and then hungrily coming back for more. "...it is not a bad word, it is not even an act of tiny evil." he laid me on the floor and raised his hand up slowly, letting the other do still what it was doing. "It is life-saving."

I nodded in agreement. "It is what saves face and saves lives. A lie is small, yet a lie is powerful..." he gave me his final kiss and threw his hand up in the air. "...but only for the person who knows it exists:" Lodging his hand right in between my chest, right through my heart I stared at him, blankly and so did he. My heart wasn't the only thing he killed, himself as well, for what he thought was my hand was the woman with a parasol. As he pushed himself lower on me he pushed himself harder on the lady. That ceramic lady I had placed between us. He fell on me, draped his messy hair on my face and forehead and on the skirts of my bloody sheets. I ran my fingers through his hair and gently whispered in his ear.

"It is the person who has created it."