Better The Devil You Know

Fuck This Shit I'm Out

Ever since she could remember Aurora Romano née Castillo has believed in God. It was never something she decided to do, there was never a huge revelation, she just always has.

Perhaps it was the Catholic boarding school, filled with nuns who devoted their lives solely to the worship of God. Perhaps it's that her entire family had been Catholic for as long as she can remember. Aurora does not know.

She also does not know, why her family choose to devote themselves to the belief in a God that can send them straight to hell, especially because of their current occupations. But she believed anyway.

Aurora Romano née Castillo, does not go to church every Sunday, in fact, apart from special celebrations she goes very little. She cannot stand church. The leaflets handed round, quoting the Bible in an attempt to excuse someone's blatant prejudice, the priest who will teach the children that sometimes being yourself is a sin, she hated it. It isn't her God. Sometimes she would sit in church and have to peer over the person in front to check their reading the same Bible.

So she never went to church. But she prays. When good things happen, when bad things happen, she prays. She's not always sure if someone is listening, during the bad times she throws her hands up and denounces her faith, but she always comes back.

Because here's the thing:

Aurora Romano does not believe in luck. Never has. Never will.

The whole idea of it does not work for her. After all, how can your whole entire life, every thing that has happened to you, be entirely coincidental?

Aurora does not believe in luck, she believes in God.

And had there been any doubt in her mind about whether or not God was listening, it was gone now.

Because God answered her prayer for help.

🖤

Mrs Plum was driving home from her last house, it was late Friday night, and the rain was pouring down her windshield like bullets. Having spent the whole day on her feet, she was exhausted. Her new skirt had been stained with bleach and her hands were sore from ironing. But she was happy.

Having cleaned four houses in one day, Mrs Plum could go home and cook up a hearty dinner. She could go see her friends in town tomorrow afternoon, catch up and go out to eat.

It was only half way home that she had the horrible discovery that she had lost her house keys. She was rummaging through her bag for her chapstick which was tied to her keys, when she suddenly panicked. Where had she left them? Thinking back throughout the day, she could pinpoint the last time she had seen them. At that rental house down Clarence Lane. Huffing and mumbling lots of curses she turned her car around.

Having driven for about twenty minutes to get there, Mrs Plum pulled into the empty driveway and walked towards the front door. Lifting up the doormat she saw the key had moved since she left it there that morning. Someone must have been in.

Thinking nothing of it, she walked into the kitchen, gasping slightly at the sight of it. Plates were smashed, the curtains crinkled and slightly ripped, and, is that blood? Shuddering slightly, Mrs Plum quickly hurried to the laundry room to rummage through her cleaning supply box.

All the bottles of various cleaning products clanged together, rustling as her hands hurried to find the keys and get out of there.

Letting out a yell of triumph as she found them, Mrs Plum returned the box and shuffled out.

One hand on the doorknob, Mrs Plum stopped when she heard a whimper. It sounded strangled, a raspy breath, so quiet Mrs Plum thought she was imagining it. But it got louder, more consistent as Mrs Plum stood frozen, unsure of what to do.
Putting her keys in between her fingers, she tiptoed towards the living room door.

Taking a deep breath and whispering a pray she opened the door and let out a scream.