The Devil - Rewritten

Chapter Ten

CHAPTER TEN: WINTER

I wake up and I see the face of the devil and I ask him, "What time is it?"
And he says, "How much time do you want?"
-Diamanda Galas

Emma's

Sleep wasn't a friend to Emma Carter, a nor did it pretend to be. Insomnia, however, well Emma liked to think they were on the best of terms. They way she interacted with both jumped between frustration and friendly.

One night she'll exhaustedly drop into her bed and thank the world for letting her melt into the mattress, comfortable beyond belief.

And the next night she's not able to get to sleep until the sun's about to rise, and then wakes up tired after a bad night's rest of constantly moving and feeling angsty even when she was half-unconscious.

Though in Emma's mind, when taking into account the darkness in it, friendly had to be a lose term.

Emma hates it when people talk about suicide like someone's death doesn't matter in the long run, that just because they'd lie later in life and wasn't a celebrity it doesn't matter.  She hates it that they point of the stars still appearing, the sun still rising and another day passing doesn't make it any less devastating.

And she hates that she believed that.

That at one point when she wanted to kill herself she thought just because the world would move on, the people who loved her would too.

But that's not the case for everyone.

Because Jessie wouldn't be able to sit at their table at lunch anymore, she wouldn't be able to listen to the same music without imagining her best friend singing it and her laughter wouldn't sound the same, not anymore.

Their friend group would be changed, Xavier wouldn't have a sound place beside anyone anymore, Calum would blame himself for not getting to know her better but still daring to miss her presence like her best friend. Nolan and Cameron, her friend and cousin, would be devastated they didn't spend more time with her.

Her grandparents would break down over it because they buried their son, and now their granddaughter, and just once before they died they wanted to be outlived. Even her mother would feel it, standing in front of the mirror smelling like smoke and beer and asking herself am I the one who did this?

Maybe that's what would get her sober.

Or maybe she'd be drunk when she had to open the door for Xavier and Jessie, who just wanted some of her things to remember, to not give themselves the chance to forget.

And maybe she'd get her answer when they went to Emma's room and Jessie put on one of her hoodies trying desperately to remember the way she smelled, Xavier would grab her favorite blanket for the same reason. When she saw they took her phone and paid for it, only to listen to her voicemail because they couldn't get sick of the sound of her voice if they tried.

The sun still rising didn't make up for the announcement Emma knew they would have to give to the school, announcing that Emma Carter—Emma who nobody really knew—Emma who didn't fit in—Emma who people made fun of for her scars—Emma who sometimes came in smelling like smoke or the outside—Emma who was now dead—wouldn't be coming back.

Because that's bullshit, it is.

And sure, Emma knows that now.

But it doesn't change how at one point she thought because next spring, the flowers would still bloom and the sun would feel bright and the birds would sing and the world wouldn't miss her that nobody else would.