The Devil (BOOK I + II)

6 | "Fuckable Lips"

Chapter Six
"Fuckable Lips"

"i'm tough, ambitious, and I know exactly
what I want. if that makes me a bitch, okay."
— madonna

┏━━━━━━━┓

I didn't know why I felt sad.

I could say it was from the Monday blues, because I had to open and close the shop today. But deep down inside, I knew that wasn't part of my disastrous mood.

When five o'clock hit, I basically ran toward the front door and flipped the closed sign before locking up. I knew I needed to burn off energy and burn off energy I would do.

So I spun on my heel, grabbed my bag from behind the counter and strode to the opposite side of the room. I unlocked the door leading up the stairs and took two steps at a time before entering the dark room.

The next ten minutes consisted of me replacing my skirt and shirt combo with workout clothes before lifting my hair into a high ponytail.

My standing punching bag was on the far-right corner, near where the boarded-up window ended, so I tugged it to the middle of the mats before shoving my hands into my gloves. Once I got rock music playing on my phone, I threw it near the end of the mats and began attacking the bag full of sand.

The more my fists moved, the more I felt angry. Annoyed. Depressed.

Because how I was currently living my life was just a fraction of how I'd like to live it.

Dancing. Making friends. Taking the god damn elevator and hell, drinking. Not having to continuously check my surroundings to make sure I was safe.

Not feel like I was being watched. Every single moment of the day.

The longer I thought about it, the harder I punched the bag, feeling a heavy ache in my chest. My eyes burned, but I refused to admit it was because of the tears I was holding back. Internally, I cursed at myself for being childish because I was still free.

It had limits, but I wasn't there anymore.

The stand holding the bag upright nearly fell to the ground a few times, but I managed to catch and stabilize it before resuming my hits.

I must have been so lost in my own world, because I didn't hear the door open behind me until a voice muttered, "Hey."

I didn't register who was in the room with me. Instead, my body kicked into gear as I whirled around and darted toward the body next to the door.

My feet faltered when I was barely a few feet away. My jaw unlocked, and I gawked at the person standing in the room with me before managing to find my voice moments later.

"Rolie?" Although my voice sounded raspy, I began to grin widely. "What the hell? Why didn't you give a girl a warning?"

Rolando matched my smile and stepped closer to me, away from the door. "And miss that face? Never."

I rolled my eyes just as he crossed the rest of the distance between us, enveloping me in a hug. I didn't need to go on my toes as I threw my arms around his neck—he was about an inch or two taller, anyways.

"I missed you," I muttered into his neck before pulling away.

He smiled that straight smile that I couldn't help but return.

When I took another step back, I began to take off my gloves and gave myself a moment to take in his features. He didn't look that different, since he'd been coming to see me every month since I escaped my own personal prison.