Page 61 of The Devil We Know

Placing the bar on the shelf, I step out of the water and then methodically rub the soapy cloth on every inch of my skin until I start to feel clean again.

I step back under the water, watching the soap bubbles slide down my body until they pool in the drain. I stand there until the water runs clear, and then I reach out and turn off the spray.

I open the shower door and grab the towel, quickly drying myself and then wrapping the towel around my torso. The mirror is foggy, and I’m unable to see my reflection, so I grab the hand towel, pressing it against the glass and sliding it across until I appear.

I look different.

I feel different.

Perhaps I am different.

Sighing, I continue to study my reflection, the woman staring back at me almost seeming foreign. Just a few days ago, I lived a completely different existence. A life where I could completely forget my origins, where I came from, and who I came from.

A few short days ago, Matt was still the boy scout, the good guy who only ever stepped over the line into evil when forced.

And now, here we both are.

Sullied. Our previously rounded edges now jagged and sharp, neither of us able to sit back and pretend to be someone we’re not.

Because at the heart of it all, it has always been there, lurking beneath the surface.

It has always been the devil we know.

26

A Promise

Jessica

I exit the bathroomto find Matt alone, lying prone in the center of the mattress.

I walk to the edge of the bed and ask, “Where’s Marieka?”

“Kaian came for her. He’ll keep her safe.”

I nod but say nothing, staring down at him a bit awkwardly until finally, he extends his hand to me and says, “Come here.”

I grip his hand in mine, allowing him to pull me across the bed, and then I tuck myself into his side, my head on his shoulder.His arm is a comforting weight around me. I slide my top leg over his thighs, my foot hooking around his calf, and after a fair amount of squirming I settle, sighing deeply at the familiarity around me.

We’re both quiet, lost in our own thoughts. The eerie, echoing silence is once again playing in time with the beating of his heart in my ear.

I let the silence drag out, and then, after a few long minutes, I ask, “What are you thinking about?” He says nothing. I crane my head around so I can see his face, squinting at his smiling lips and his closed eyes and mutter, “You better not say my fucking sweet pussy.”

He laughs, a deep belly one that vibrates in his chest, and I’m suddenly enveloped by a comforting warmth that has me laughing with him.

Slowly, our laughter dies, but the warm feeling remains, and then he says, “I mean, always your sweet pussy. But this time, I was literally thinking about nothing.”

I nod as I reply, “Same. Nothing seems good right now.”

We fall back into that comfortable silence. I close my eyes as his fingers stroke lightly over my forehead, giving myself this reprieve to slip into the nothing where the dark can’t touch me.

I doze a bit, but then I’m roused by his movement jostling me, and I’m unceremoniously dumped onto the mattress as he suddenly rolls toward me.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I sputter, annoyed that he took away my comfortable pillow.

He settles on his side facing me, his expression serious as he says, “Sorry, sugar. But our time to think about nothing is over. It was either I make a move right then or we continue to sit here, wasting valuable time.”

I frown, knowing he’s right but also wanting to sulk.

---