A Dance Of Gods ✓

9. Memories

Taylor

I wake up on the floor of the storage room with my nose pouring blood again, thinking I may have suffered some sort of PTSD induced hallucination. I feel weird- so I know I passed out, the question is of how long ago because I don't remember looking at a single clock today. My forehead hurts- must've hit it on the way down.

I met the devil. The actual fucking devil. I learned things about our government and AREA FUCKING FIFTY ONE that the overwhelming majority of the human population will never know. I MET THE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES. I fainted in front of the president of the United States. Oh my FUCKING GOD FIRE CAME OUT OF MY HANDS AND THERE ARE MULTIPLE UNIVERSES BUT ONE HEAVEN AND HELL-

Breathe. You will get nowhere by having a breakdown and Rhea's probably wondering where you are by now.

He couldn't have plopped you down in the apartment, near a soft surface?- I think as I drag myself up. He is the literal devil- the only one. I don't know why I expected that of him. Hell must be incredibly crowded-

He was nice to you dumbass. Oddly nice. Anybody would expect a nice person to continue being nice.

The devil. I met the literal devil.

He told me most of the stories about him are false, meant to scare people into thinking his father is the nice one- but isn't that what the stories say he would tell you to drive you away from god?

I grab onto a random shelf, breathing through my mouth. He didn't exactly account for the fact that the effects of shock can last hours in human bodies- or ones that are apparently 99.999999 percent human and .0000001 percent Angel.

If I am...

I.....

How am I supposed to.....

I shake my head. I cannot possibly begin to comprehend- not fully, how rapidly everything I've ever known has changed. I need to go the fuck to sleep. I need to erase the day from my mind even if it's just for a few hours.

So I reach for the doorknob and a few seconds later- look up and down the hallway like I'm doing something wrong. That storage room is mostly unused; rich people are paranoid about people stealing their shit but I can still picture one of Rhea's neighbors accusing me of stealing a box so valuable they put it in an unlocked room.

In Rhea's clothes, I look like I belong here more than I normally would. I get a funny look as I pass one of the neighbors though- like she just knows I don't come from money, like she can see I was a foster kid.

I am alone in the elevator, and it is so quiet- other than the robotic Access granted as I type in the passcode to Rhea's penthouse- that I have no choice but to be assaulted by memories from my past to forget the day. They're not all bad- at least that's what I tell myself as the elevator opens, letting me step into her living room.

  Sure, my parents weren't the nicest people- but they both stayed until the end. That's more than a lot of people can say.

I stand at Rhea's fridge looking for something to shove in my face- then when I turn around she's appeared behind me like a fucking ghost.

  "Jesus-where were you? I was just about to call the cops-"

  "Rhea. I'm fine. Don't do this thing where you overreact and worry way more than you need to." Oh how I wish I could dump everything on her and show her that my hands create fire, but apparently celestial beings and the governments of the world both frown upon that.