Devil || m.c

0.7

0.7

"Now," she says as we've both calmed down. "Sit here." She gesture to a chair with a sink behind it, like the ones at a barber's shop.

I obliged, as she asked, "Is this a natural blonde?" I replied with a 'yes'.

"Then it would be easier dying it," she sighed.

"Wait, what? Why would you want to dye my hair?!" I asked in disbelief.

"I'm sorry, Michael, but I have to. You should look like them."

"Why would I want to look like you? You're already going to torture me!"

"Yes, they're gonna torture you, but you can't stay here looking like an angel."

"Then why can't I go back? Where the hell am I anyways?!" I covered my mouth with my hands as soon as the swear word escaped.

She slightly chuckled.

"Nice pun, you're in hell. And you just can't go back, because if you can, we wouldn't be having a convo right now, probably we would, but not here." She replies.

I didn't get what she said, so before I could process it, I asked, "A convo?"

"Conversation." Oh. Hell slang. Right.

She cut a little strand and put in in a tin foil, wrapping the little hairs securely and putting it in her pocket. I decided not to question her about it and let her do her thing. She probably knows what she's doing. Hopefully.

She then smears the red fluid on my head and massages my scalp with it. Then she spreads it through my hair, taking little strands and rubbing them between her hands, making sure to let the dye reach every hair. When she's done, she takes the gloves off and washes her hands, standing in front of me.

Next, she walks across the room, and picks a small thing that I wasn't able to see. Then she approaches me and stands at a really close distance, so I'm at eye-level with her neck.

"Close your eyes." She commands.
"'Cause this will make you tear up."

I did as I was told, and reflexively hiss as I feel a sharp pain next to my right eyebrow. I open my eyes, then blink rapidly, feeling the sting in my eyes as tears form.

I raise my hand to touch the place of the pain, but i feel a cold metal instead of my skin.

I walk over to the mirror, and find out that I've got a piercing.

"Do you... like it?" She asks, pulling off a weird face, half smiling, half questioning. I turned back to face the mirror, turning my face from side to side. I take notice of my wings, once white as snow, now gray.

I try to spread them, but fail. I try again and again, as I panic.

What happened to them?

I must've said that out loud, or she read my mind, because she answers my question. "They paralyzed your wings, Michael. And they're gonna... they're gonna..." She looks down at her feet.

"They're gonna what?" I tilt my head to the side, anxious.

"I'm sorry, Michael. They're gonna cut off your wings." What? WHAT?!

"But why?!" I asked in rage and fear as I shamelessly sob.

"I'm so, so, sorry." She embraces me as i cry on her shoulder. Why was she always apologizing? My not-in-the-moment conscience asked.

"What did I ever do?" I whispered to myself.

"It's all my fucking fault. It's my fault. I'm so sorry, Michael. I ruined your eternity. I'm so sorry." She sobbed as well. "I should've let them burn me. I should've let them torture me. I should've let you escape."

I looked at her, wide-eyed. Escape? Torture her? "What do you mean?"

"I saw them open, I should've let you go back to heaven. I shouldn't've done that to you. Burning me was a better choice." I was still clueless.

But then it hit me.

I was kidnapped by them, and she wanted to save me. But of course, any rebellion in hell meant getting burnt, and going back to earth as a demon. In the case of heaven, rebellion meant getting sent to hell.

This makes a lot of sense now.

"Don't blame yourself, okay? You couldn't have done anything. It's okay. Stop apoligizing."

I looked her in the eye, the glint of light blue now covering half of her eye.

"What's up with your eye, um,"

"Angela," she whispers and I gasp.

I push her away, my hands on both her shoulders, so that she's only at arm length away from me.

"But-"

"-that's a heavenly name, I know."

"And-"

"-I'm Satan's daughter, oh wow." She cuts me off again.

"H-"

"-how? Well, I-"

"Ca you please stop cutting me off?" I ask.

She giggles a 'sorry' and continues, "anyways-"

"-stop apologizing."

"Who's cutting the other off now, huh?" She scowls a cute little grimace. "Anyways- and listen to the end- I happen to be just like you, Michael. But in a, um, more complicated way," she fiddles with her fingers to gesture complicated.

"I'm still confused," I say frankly.

"I'll explain later. Now let us get that dye out."

And we do as she said. She rinses the dye off, then dries my hair. She then starts to style it like some punk style. She stands in front of me and fixes it from the front, when she stares into my eyes.

"Woah," she breathes. "They're... green," she muses.

I chuckle and say, "Yeah, they are."

"But I thought they were black! They seemed black, Michael!" She giggled and I shrugged.

"It's your eyes that we should muse about." I say. "You didn't answer my question."

"Yeah, sorry for tha-"

"-Stop apologizing, Angela." I cut her off, her name rolling off my tounge like sweet lemonade on a hot summer day.

"Sorry- whoops!" She giggles adorably, and I chuckle.

"So yeah. When you're turned into a devil you can't have blue eyes. Your eyes aren't blue but mine were and they literally dyed my eyes black. And that's what you find as an amusing navy blue in my eyes. And that patch of blue appears when I cry- which I've done right now- and it subsidizes to a small glint when tears aren't washing my eyeballs." She giggles again at the end. "Did you get it?"

"That's so cool," I say, and she smiles, a small blush forming on her cheeks.

"There! You're done!" She backs away, and I get up to look at my reflection. Damn, I look... Different. And i swore again. I blinked twice, as much as I enjoyed and actually felt safe being with Angela, I hoped I would go back. I knew I wasn't safe. I hoped it wasn't real, but it was.

"Like it?" Angela asks, biting her lip. That was hot - what am I thinking?!

"What do you think?" I asked.

"Well," she smirked, "I think you look like hell."

"Do I take that as a compliment here or...?" I trail away.

She chuckles slightly and says,

"It means you look devilishly hot."

Okaaaayyyy. So it's bad, I know, I know , but I'm trying to make it better. Dont be a silent reader and please tell me what you think. This is probably the longest chapter ive written in my entire experience with wattpad and im proud of myself.

Love y'all, Rxx