Miracle

Pt. 44

Joy drove her car down the familiar road, the scent of fresh groceries filling the backseat. Her phone was clutched in one hand, her thumb hovering over Lily's contact. She had been trying to call her daughter again, for what felt like the hundredth time. It had been at least three agonizing months since she'd last heard from Lily, not since the day the horrifying truth about Alistair had come out. She understood Lily needed time to process, to be angry, but Joy was truly starting to worry now. A cold knot of dread tightened in her stomach with each passing day.

She had even called Lily's friends—Cherry, Emily—to see if they had heard anything, if they knew where her daughter had disappeared to. But she still got no information. Her friends also said they hadn't seen or heard from Lily; they'd tried calling and texting and received no reply. Emily had even gone to their house, only to find it dark and empty, not even Momo the cat was there.
Thoughts constantly gnawed at Joy, painting terrifying scenarios in her mind.

What if Alistair got her? What if she was trapped in Hell? "Lily, this is your mother again," Joy began, her voice cracking with a desperate hope as she left yet another voicemail. "I don't know where you are, but please, just let me know you're safe. Love you, honey." As she finished the message, she pulled up to her house, the familiar sight offering little comfort.

She walked to the front door, her hand trembling slightly as she unlocked it and stepped inside. The mundane act of coming home was shattered the moment she registered the dark, imposing figure seated casually on her couch.
"Hello, Joy," Alistair greeted, his voice a silken purr that sent a shiver of pure terror down her spine. The groceries she had just picked up slipped from her numb fingers, scattering across the floor with a dull thud.

"Long time no see," he whispered, leaning his elbows on his knees, watching her with an intense, predatory gaze that seemed to pierce her very soul.
She gasped, her mind screaming. She spun on her heel, desperate to run back out the door, to escape this nightmare. But he was faster. In a blur of motion, he stood, throwing a fireball that incinerated the door frame, leaving a smoking, charred imprint inches from her face. The raw heat of it scorched her skin. "Close the door now," he commanded, his voice laced with an undeniable threat.

With a shaky hand, she reached back, pulling the scorched door shut, trapping herself inside with him.
Her back was still facing him, rigid with fear, as Alistair walked slowly around the living room with his hands clasped behind his back, his dark eyes surveying the family photos on the walls. He paused at a picture of a seven-year-old Lily, her small face alight with concentration as she drew with crayons, a faint, almost imperceptible smile playing on his lips. "It would have been nice seeing my daughter grow," he mused, his voice deceptively soft. He picked up the loose photo.

"You raised her to be weak, and on top of that, you managed to piss off God enough by turning him down to put that curse on her... what a great mother you turned out to be. Don't worry, Joy. I've decided to end her suffering." As he spoke, the picture of innocent Lily slowly ignited in his hand, curling into ash, the faint orange light reflecting ominously in his dark eyes.

She quickly spun around, her fear momentarily eclipsed by a surge of pure, protective fury. "You stay the hell away from my daughter and get out of my house!" she snarled, her voice trembling but defiant. He turned, looking at her, unimpressed by her outburst. He dusted the ash from his hand with an air of casual dismissal. "Aww, what happened to the love you had for me, Joy? You were so willing to give up everything for me once."

She swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry, looking down at the scattered groceries, the mundane stark contrast to the demon before her. But then her gaze hardened, and she looked back up, meeting his eyes head-on. "It's fucking gone now. Like I said, stay away from my daughter!"