Page 26 of The Devil

A full hour passes by before I force myself to leave the bed and wash the sex from me. It’s sore between my legs and the soap stings when it trickles down there. I can’t decide if I want the burn to stay or go, for it reminds me of what I gave to a man who made me feel everything, from love to heartache, all in one night.

I honestly don’t know how people do this with perfect strangers, because giving myself to him only to wake up and find my bed empty, feels torturous. I feel dirty, hollow, and bereft. I cry again when I realize how stupid I’ve been, especially when everyone warned me, even myself. I’m the cliché nerdy protagonist who let someone into her heart, only to have them rip it out and take it with them when they left. I’m pathetic.

After I’ve washed all the hatred away, and then some, I pull the offending sheet from the bed and bundle it into a bag. I pack my things and leave with nothing but clothes and an empty feeling that refuses to go away. The same tired message whirls around my head on an irritating repeat:You weren’t supposed to fall in love with him, Helena. You were warned, even by him, but you did it anyway. He’s right, you are now his, but he doesn’t even want you anymore!

Lucius

Creeping out of Helena’s room is one of the shittiest moves I’ve ever made, and that’s saying something. I’m not proud of myself but it was the only way to spare us both from a painful goodbye. I’ve had enough of those to last me a lifetime. We’d both done the unthinkable and fallen for one another…hard. She was only meant to be a plaything, a bet. To her, I was supposed to be the one man she should have avoided at all costs. So, I guess we both fucked up.

My mood is not helped by a familiar voice now sailing through the air from down below. Eric, the mouthy son-of-a-bitch, whistles up to me as I walk slowly down the staircase and into the small living room where he’s stretched out along the sofa like he owns the place.

“I guess you got some virgin pussy last night then?”

He grins at me like an evil Chesire Cat, but I’m in no mood to be down his depraved rabbit hole this morning. I glare at him before making my way out into the yard so at least we won’t wake Helena upstairs. She doesn’t need to know about our childish little who-can-piss-the-furthest contest, a game we’ve been playing since we started middle school. As could have been predicted, he falls into walking behind me, quickly followed by him throwing his arm around my shoulders and laughing hysterically over my supposed ‘win’.

As soon as we’re out of earshot of Helena’s room, I shuck him off and glower at him, hoping he won’t need actual words to tell him that he needs to fuck off immediately. However, being a brainless cretin, he doesn’t get the hint and begins to ask me what it was like, how hard I went on her, and other such crass shit that reasonable people do not even think about discussing. Reasonable people don’t make bets about taking a girl’s virginity either, but what can I say? I guess I’m an evil motherfucker too.

“Keep your car, Matthews,” I utter, “the bet’s off and you can go home now.”

I smile tightly before continuing forward, nodding at Owen on my way up to Helena’s little patch which she spent so long creating.

“Dafuq?” Eric scoffs as I walk onwards. “Dude, you already won! You tapped that little cunt and now you’ve got a car for your efforts. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

He takes a drag on his cigarette before throwing it into Helena’s garden. I don’t know if it’s that action, or the fact Owen just looked at me like I’m the lowest form of being on the planet, that has me grabbing hold of Eric’s shirt and thrusting him up against the fence behind him.

“I said the.Bet.Is.Off! Now fuck off and don’t let me catch you here again.” I drop him rather ungraciously to the ground, leaving him to rub his hand around where I just had hold of him. “I’ve outgrown you. Tell every other motherfucker that all parties are canceled. I’m done!”

Eric shakes his head like I’ve gone criminally insane, which right about now sounds appealing. He cautiously walks away from me until I call out once more.

“Wait! I’ve changed my mind.” I pace up to his scowling face and hold out my hand. “Keys.”

The idiot curses under his breath before slamming them down on my palm.

“I always knew you were fucked in the head, Lucius Hastings,” he mutters when he’s far enough out of reach. “It’s a good thing that poor girl is heading home, far away from you, you twisted motherfucker.”

I step forward and the asshole runs off across the lawn and out of sight. My attention then returns to Owen, who’s still looking at me like a piece of crap that’s festering on the ground, tarnishing his otherwise perfect garden. He tuts, shakes his head, then continues to walk away up the path. I follow him down the gravelly strip for a few minutes, knowing he has something to say. I also feel like I need someone to pull me up, to punish me for being a prick. I badger him with my incessant footsteps crumpling upon the gravel beneath my shoes. It’s only a matter of time before he flips, I just need to wait for it.

“If you’re waiting for me to do something, boy, you’ll be waiting a long time,” he mumbles with his hint of an Irish accent that stems back from childhood. “I ain’t lowering myself just to make you feel better.”

Frustratingly, Owen is both street-smart and intelligent. I guess his criminal background and short stint in jail only made him more so.

“Oh, come on, Owen,” I poke at him with a thick frosting of arrogance, “you know you want to punch me. Plus, they’ll be no comeback because you’ll be doing me a favor. Come on, right here on my smug chin!”

He laughs loudly, tipping his head back before spinning around to face me. His fist makes quick contact, but with enough force to knock me backward. It stings like a bitch but feels oh, so good for about five seconds.

“Atta boy,” I laugh, gripping hold of my knees to steady myself, all the while he shakes out his fist.

“Feel any better?” he asks with a knowing grin.

“Not one fucking bit.” I laugh again, clutching hold of my jaw where he just flattened it. Hopefully, it will bruise, nice and ugly.

“Good, now do you need me to tell you the obvious?” He stands up tall with his beefy arms folded across his chest and looks down at me like the pathetic little rich boy that I play so well. I shake my head, not looking at him for fear of seeing the disappointment written all over his face. “Then I’d say you have about two hours to pull your head out of your ass and go and tell that girl how you feel before she’s out of here. Understand?”

“You and I both know that’s not going to happen,” I sigh as I stand up to meet him face-to-face. “What would be the point? I’m here, she’s there. I’m Satan, she’s Gabriel…”

“Bullshit!” He spits at the ground like a common thug, looking cold and angry. “The point would be you letting her know she actually meant something to you more than a fucking bet. The point is she won’t feel like the cheapest thing alive after giving up something most people feel pretty special about. The point is, Lucius, you aren’t that much of a dick, no matter how much you profess to be. The point is Billy looks up to you and I can’t let him do that if you don’t go and make this right. So, get gone!”

I look up, nodding slowly, because I guess the Irish bastard is right. He turns to walk away from me, so I turn in the opposite direction to go and think about what I want to say to her.

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