Page 130 of Psycho Devils: Aran's Story 2

I needed a bottle of unidentified enchanted pills and a week of therapy. ASAP.

When Malum asked if John wanted a man or a woman, a horrible feeling crushed my chest. I felt sick, which was completely irrational. John was just my friend. I didn’t care who he had sex with.

You’re still so lucky, I reminded myself as I climbed into John’s bed.

A few beds down, the demons crawled under their sheets as they attacked each other with kisses. Proof that romance wasn’t dead for everyone.

Just some of us.

The door opened, and four women entered the room in a cloud of perfume.

They were a gaggle of smooth, unblemished skin, bright eyes, long glossy hair, shiny lips, and expertly applied makeup.

They sparkled.

From their coy smiles and effervescent laughter, they still possessed a will to live. I made a mental note to ask them after the party where they got their energy from.

Was it journaling, drinking green juice, or hitting men that kept the light shining in their eyes?

I’d try anything.

I pushed my pipe between my lips and turned my hands over.

Swollen knuckles and gnarled fingers stared back at me. Raw cuticles and ravaged nails. A long gash snaked across the top of my hand and trailed down my forearm. It puckered grotesquely.

Green-and-black bruises.

The sick sensation twisting in my lower stomach intensified.

I pulled my hoodie up. Covered my wild curls. Tucked my knees under so I was cocooned in soft fabric and tugged the sleeves over my hands.

Hid myself.

Leaned back against the wall.

I inhaled twice in rapid succession, then exhaled slowly.

Sixteen, twenty-five, thirty-six, forty-nine, sixty-four, eighty-one, one hundred, one hundred and twenty-one, I counted upward in square roots.

I held on to that feeling of being lucky with bloody nails.

You are blessed.

The demons writhed under their sheets, and each king had a woman beneath him. Grunts, slaps, and moans echoed.

The men fornicating was nothing new, but something felt different, and it wasn’t that I was no longer disguised as a dude.

I tried to look away.

Tried to not stare.

I failed.

I watched with morbid fascination.

Everyone was naked but John. He still wore his T-shirt, but his sweatpants were pushed down his muscular thighs.

A black-haired woman with curly hair knelt in front of him, and her impressive boobs were pushed up in a lacy bra.

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