Truth Lies

Cut

   She was running, harder than she had ever run before, but she knew it wasn't enough.
   Heart pounding in her chest, blood rushing through her veins, breaths coming out in short gasps, each sending a stab of pain through her, making her feel as if she was dying slowly, the gun tucked safely in her back pocket, hidden from view, she ran, ran with all her might, ran as if the devil himself was after her.
   Technically, he was.
   But not just a singular devil.
   Multiple devils.
   'Los Angeles', they called themselves. 'The Angels'. Named after the city where their gang was first created.
   They were supposed to be the protectors of the town. They had sworn on their lives that they would do everything to keep Soul safe.
   They had sworn, yes. But they had promised with fingers crossed behind their backs.
   The motherfuckers.
   A surge of anger ran through her, and she suddenly found the power to run even harder than she was right now. In fact, she was going so fast, her feet thudding loudly into the still night, making crickets stop chattering and owls go silent, that she almost missed the spot.
   Almost.
   She screeched to a stop, her sneakers burning under her feet, making way for a new wave of pain, almost as bad as the first one. But she didn't care.
   Eyes determined and feet yelling in pain, she walked over to the barn, once a mighty and grave building, now laying in the barren field, decrepit and falling apart, beams moldy and mice chattering in the backboards, and adjusted the backpack on her shoulders, the backpack containing the only thing she could use for a bargaining tool.
   Money.
   The green papers, so shiny , so... so useful, but the thing that was destroying the world, sat in all its sickening glory in her backpack, proud at its power over the smartest beings on the planet, happy to have caused yet another problem in this already insane world. Money, its scent, full of sweat and tears, and papery acid, wafting into her nose, making her want to throw up.
   Money.

   She arrived at the door, and hesitated.

   "Hello?" she called out tentatively, resting a hand on the doorframe.

   When she received no answer, she tried again.

   "Hell-"

   A crunch suddenly sounded, and she felt a hand go on top of her mouth, preventing her from screaming. Heart beating, fighting the sweaty hand, she suddenly felt the first devil's breath in the back of her neck.

   "Hello, my lovely," the devil purred.

   Bile began to rise in her throat, and she trashed against him, biting and kicking, until she felt an icy cold press up against her neck.

   "I wouldn't do that if I were you," the devil hissed menacingly, his breath hot in her ear. "We wouldn't want anybody getting... hurt."

   She screamed in his hand, and, tearing it away from her mouth, took in a breath of fresh air, turning to him.

   "I," she glared at him, clutching the bag in front of her, "have what you want."

   The devil rolled his eyes, and she felt her heartbeat through every cell in her body.
   She had the advantage.
   Didn't she?

   "But you have to give that precious little parcel"- he spat at her, scoffing at her insolence- "to us, if you want to see your precious little boyfriend live, so that gives us an advantage over you, my dear," he said, smirking at her.

   Hate blossomed in her heart, turning into an icy rage, but she mustn't let the devil know he got to her. That would show a weakness. She mustn't let him see her fear of losing him, her desperation to see him safe and sound, or else the devil would use that over her, and she would lose any advantage she had carefully planned to have over them.