Sympathy for the Devil

32

"Sally!" Her name tumbled out of my throat far too late. I was no longer in the carpool lane waiting to enter the school. I was thrust into literal Hell.

God fucking dammit.

I can never have just one day. Let me have my fucking peace! This shit was suffocating and constricting.

My mouth went dry.

Sally dropped Bennett off today in her police car. She was dressed in her blue police uniform. Her blonde hair was pulled back in her standard ponytail. I assume Bennett's car is in the shop after I screamed and broke his front windshield. Sasha, Bennett's younger sister, was in the car too, waiting to be dropped off at school herself.

Sally saw me. Bennett hadn't. Sally has the sight too. I have to be right. She saw me get dragged away. She knew it was me. She saw through the distinguished disguise. I saw it in the pursing of her lips and the widening of her ivy colored eyes.

The sight is genetic. It's a passed-down trait. Sally passed it down to Bennett. Sasha may possess it, too.

Uncle Charlie never made it to California. Demons took him hostage. Demons were present because Ankou had yearned for companionship from the beginning. The Gods obliged in their sadistic, twisted nature and gave Ankou what he wanted, but not what he deserved.

I wondered if Killian's mother was among them. Was she a Sluagh too? Ankou did touch her. Did she fall a perilous victim to the ruthless Gods as well?

Akira grasped onto my arm as she led me further into the Underworld.

Roots riddled the walls. The heart of the Underworld had trees and life that are decayed and pathetic looking. They are wilted and saggy and the life that once was there is long gone now for who knows how long.

The dark crevices that rested beneath the surface. It looked like the inside of a hollowed-out volcano. There was magma and soot from the heat source, but everything was designed by fire. It was livable, but unbearably hot.

People would not be able to survive here unless they were already dead if it weren't for the tampering of the Book of Fates. I'm already struggling with the change of climate.

A bead of sweat broke out on my forehead. I couldn't wipe it away because my arms were held down forcefully.

Turning my head mid-struggle, I caught a glimpse of Uncle Charlie, and my face fell into a permanent frown.

Uncle Charlie was a husk now of the man he formerly was. He was an enslaved person forced into servitude. He was forced to drag me to Hell. He never missed school, and he embraced his scholarly status. His dreams were crushed, and he has no idea. And it's all my fault. I wish I had never been born. That would simplify things. I was never meant to be born at all.

Uncle Charlie gripped onto my free arm as Akira clung to my other arm and yanked me further back into the deepest depths of despair and melancholia. The walls groaned around us as if expanding for the latest addition.

I thrashed around until I looked like an untamable animal. It was no use as Akira dropped me into a vacant room and clicked the door shut. There was no explanation for my being here. I was forced into waiting. Uncle Charlie left with Akira. There was no comfort here. Everything was dark and hot to the touch. Sweat dribbled along my forehead. I felt sticky and gross. If I weren't battling literal Hell, I would have thought I was breaking into a fever.

My t-shirt turned wet with my sweat. My hair matted to my face. I was burning up. Everything here was hot and volcanic.

There was a metal canopy bed here, featuring black satin sheets and two dark red, generic satin pillows. I was a prisoner here, no matter how cozily they masked the room. It was a cell. I didn't intend to stay.