The Devil - Rewritten

Chapter Four

CHAPTER FOUR: ALONE

Because God loves us, but the devil takes an interest. 
-Jennifer Donnelly

When Emma Carter woke up after her night with the Devil, she was alone.

She doesn't know why she was surprised—that was very typical for something like a one night stand, waking up alone, yet she couldn't shake the feeling that it was somehow... wrong. Chandler was actually the one that woke her up with a face pale, red eyes and wincing when he moved, typical signs of being hung over or when coming off drugs.

Emma got dressed, found her black flats that she didn't bother to put on and was told that her 'sexy best friend' was still somewhere on the third floor with the Angel boy.

It took her a while to find Jessie, as she didn't pick up the many times Emma tried to call her, but eventually when she opened a door the two naked people behind it were people she actually knew.

Didn't make it any less awkward.

Which is why, at the moment, she's thankful she's not Chandler.

"C'mon, Jessie," Emma throws her dress to her, smacking her best friend in the face which makes her snap awake. "We should get you home."

Sitting up with a small groan, Jessie tugs her dress on and shakes Cal awake who winces at the sunlight alone. "Busy night?" Jessie mumbles.

"Yeah," Emma says, pulling her up. "You?"

Glancing to the drowsy angel next to her, the blonde laughs. "You have no idea."

"See you on Monday, Cal."

Calum nods, rubbing at his eyes. "See you, bye Jess."

Jessie giggles. "Bye, Angel."

Dragging her hung-over best friend all the way to her house was more frustrating than it was rewarding by the time Julian, Jessamine's older brother, opened the door and took his sister to her room.

Julian and Emma were friends in the sense they were familiar with each other, enough not to be awkward when left alone together, but not friends enough to ever talk to each other outside the times her being around Jessie would require her being around him too.

He made her a cup of coffee and gave her a sweatshirt to wear—her shirt was large, but thin—before dropping her off at the corner of her street. All her friends know they're not allowed to go to her house, and know that if her mom saw someone dropping her off, it would lead to screamed-out questions. 

Emma's house was a small one story home that had dead flowers in front of the porch and a garage so full of useless things that her mom's car couldn't be parked inside of it. It was painted tan, but weather chipped away at it until it looked more brown than anything else.

She knew where every leak in the roof was, where the holes in her fence were and how to sneak in through her bedroom window without her mom knowing.

Often, Emma kept her room locked—she even installed an extra lock herself—to make sure her mom wouldn't shift through it looking for money. Why she thought Emma would keep her money in a place a drug addict could find was beyond her.

Jessie's parents treated her well and had an extra room in their large house where Emma would stay when necessary, they gave her money for food and necessities and made sure she never had to question where her next meal would come from.

But they couldn't do anything about the bills piling up in Emma's mail box or the fact her mom wasted both their life profits away on drugs and alcohol.