Subtitle: The Strange Duet Part II

Her door tended to slam so I put my hand out to guide it to a silent closing.

"Who the fuck are you?!? And what were you doing in my girlfriend's apartment?"

For easily the hundredth time, I wished she had fallen for someone lower in the instep and vocal range. I rested my forehead against the door; the music from the other side was almost out of my reach.

"Answer my question, asshole! What the fuck were you doing in there?"

I turned until the sweater-hood no longer blocked my view of the woman. "At least, she still picks the fine ones, even if her appreciation for loud women has grown past my preference."

She took a step back, but stepped forward when she realized how she reacted. I walked to the guitar case I set down before entering the apartment. I hadn't needed it inside, but the woman in the hallway called a different song.

"You know her?" More a challenge than a question, I ignored it to bend down and open the case. The woman's heels clipped against the tile as she walked by.

"She doesn't want to talk to you," I said touching the guitar strings.

"I don't care what she wants!"

"That's part of the problem. Regardless, I don't want you to talk to her."

"I don't give a fuck what you want either!"

"Yes, you do." The guitar was in position. I leaned against the wall and touched the strings. The hand she had poised to beat on the door fell to her side. She turned to look at me.

"You shouldn't frown," I told her. "It's not attractive on you."

I smiled at her confusion; she would understand soon enough. "Move away from the door please."

"Fuck you, asshole!"

I waited until she walked back to her original position by the stairs before replying, "I'm predisposed to disliking you, --courtesy would not harm your cause."

She stared at the door. The song made its presence known around us. Her brow furrowed as she glanced at everything on the landing to avoid looking at me. The music turned her head until her eyes met mine. Had she applied any more pressure to the lip trapped between her teeth, she would have drawn blood.

"Fuck you!" She forced the words out through her uncertainty. I closed my eyes and tilted my head back.

"Who are you?" she asked suddenly.

"The dream she can't remember."

The woman laughed. I opened my eyes and tilted my head to the side. My fingers gave the song enough physical form to press against her from all sides. I squeezed. Her breathing stopped, and her eyes widened. I let go and waited.

"You're the one she won't tell me about!" Envy lent strength to her voice.

"She can't tell you about me."

"What do you mean can't?"

"Knock on the door."

She managed to lean in that direction. Her eyes bored into me before she bit her lip, this time drawing blood, and leaned harder.

"She can't tell you what she doesn't remember, but you knew about me anyway, didn't you?"

She stared hatred at me for a second before driving towards the door with all of her will. It was no match for the music. She gasped and pulled back.

"That's impossible!"

"She said the same thing once, but she didn't put the gusto into it that you just did. In fact, she was a little desperate to believe it was possible."

"No," she shook her head. "You're not one of them."

My fingers froze on the strings, "One of them?"

She shook her head even harder. The music convinced her to speak, "Those disgusting stories she reads. Soul takers don't exist!"

"Soultaker," I whispered. "I like it."

"You're not real!"

"Knock on her door and tell me I'm not real." She was too afraid to try again.

"Why?" Her voice cracked. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. I could almost hear her counting down from the heights of fear. There was defiance in her eyes when she looked at me.

"You hurt her," I said. "Now, I'm going to hurt you."

She spun on her heel and tried to flee.

I put a spell on you

She dropped as if the words had sliced through her knees.

Because you're mine

Her body convulsed as her will pushed her to try standing while the music turned her towards me. The spark of anger in her eyes was drowning in horror.

You better stop The things that you're doin'.

She crawled to me. Her hands were touching my shoes before she looked up.

"While I appreciate not having to find you, I'm curious why you would come back here." I kept the song alive with the guitar. "The last argument seemed final."

She pressed her lips together until they turned white. Her hands fisted against my thighs, if not for the music she would have tried violence.

"You can't do this to me," she said finally. "I won't allow it!"

"I would think you kneeling naked at my feet proves I can do whatever I want to you."

"I'm not naked!" But she had to check.

"An oversight on my part," I said smirking. "It was rude to point it out instead of correcting it by taking your clothes off."

She looked at me with the minor victory dancing across her face.

I ain't gonna take none of your Puttin' me down;

"I guess she spoiled me. The hard way then," I sighed. "Take your clothes off."