Ghosts of the Future

Demon Scars

Max's POV

I sit on the narrow cot, not moving. The guards come by every once in a while, but my head hurts too much to look up at them. My heart stings with betrayal, but that's muted compared to the pain stabbing through my skull.

One of the guards stops, and I hear an extra set of footsteps stop beside him. "Sello, someone's here to see you. I'd be a gentleman and welcome her," the guard says, hitting the bars of my cell with his stick. I look up to glare at him, but my eyes latch onto his companion instead.

I'm up and moving towards her before I can think. My hands reach through the bars, trying to grab her throat. The throat that asked those horrible questions that damned me. Saira simply watches me, her face revealing nothing of her emotions.

The guard hits my hands with his stick, and I back up. My gaze is locked on Saira, though, so I notice when she glances up at the camera in the corner of the room.

Saira turns towards the guard, and asks softly, "Can we have some privacy, please? I need to talk to him alone." The guard looks at her, then his eyes slightly glass over. He nods, then leaves, locking the door behind him. Saira's eyes flash red, and the light on the camera fades to black.

"There. Now we're almost truly alone," she says, turning back towards me. A thread of red snakes its way through her right iris, but that's the only strange thing about her. That and her clothes.

It's the first time I've seen Saira in a hoodie and loose pants. Normally, she always has a long-sleeved shirt and baggy jeans. Saira notices me noting her attire, and she smiles.

"It's why I came. I needed to know something," she says, folding her arms across her chest. I scowl, and fold my arms to mimic her. "And what something is that?" I ask, heavy sarcasm in my words. My heart stings, but for some reason, the pain in my head is lessening.

Saira's eyes look up to meet mine square on, and I know that she does this so that way I can't lie. I can never look away from her beautiful eyes, even though one has a red serpent in it.

"Do you love me? Mind, body, and soul?" she asks suddenly. I blink at her, and only pause a moment before answering truthfully, "Yes." Saira nods, then asks, "What if I told you that my mind is not perfect? Or my soul? And especially my body?"

I lean back against the cot, but don't sit. Saira watches me, her eyes keen and watchful, like a hawk's.

Or a snake's.

I nod, and she smiles cruelly. She laughs without humor as she says, "You have been shown my memories in your dreams, Max. You know what I've done. What I've seen. So you know that my mind and soul are not perfect."

I roll my eyes, and say, "So what? I also murdered someone. It's nothing new." Saira laughs again, and says, "Well, then that leaves one more category, doesn't it? Would you love me if you knew what lay beneath my clothes?"

Without giving me a chance to answer, Saira grabs the hem of her hoodie and pulls it up over her head. I watch, mesmerized, as inches of pale white skin appear like magic. I had dreamed about this, before the weird nightmares set in.

Saira is only wearing a sports bra under her hoodie. She drops the black covering to the floor, then stares at me. I look at her, my eyes tracing every inch of her skin.

Saira turns her arms towards me, and I bite back a yelp. Black lines crisscross her skin. Tally marks of pain and anger. On her shoulders, I see two thick black lines, but before I can ask about them, Saira bends down to pull down her pants.

Her legs are as pale as her arms. Less scars adorn her muscled runner's legs, but bite marks do. All of the markings, though, are as black as pitch, shining like reverse stars against her snowy skin.

Saira looks up at me, and says, "My body is not perfect, Max." I shake my head and step forward, my gaze rapt on her body. I think I'm the first person in a long time to see her without clothes, and I feel proud of it. Even if it isn't in the way I would like. Now more than ever, I hate these prison cell bars.

The girl in front of me smiles, then cocks a hip and folds her arms. A groan escapes my mouth, and she laughs. Her eyes dance with blue and red light, threading with the green I fell in love with.

Saira's eyes suddenly harden, and she asks, "Do you wish to know what design adorns my back?" Again, without giving me time to answer, she does what she wants. When she turns around and her back is bared to me, I consider screaming.

Gruesome black lines etch her back. A long, thick one runs down her spine, moving as her spine moves. Several touch her ribs, hips, and shoulders, turning her back into a frame. But the most horrible ones are four long, jagged ones that run from her right shoulder diagonally across her back to her left hip.

"The four you're looking at are for my family," Saira says, looking over her shoulder at me. I can't make a sound. My knees feel wobbly, like Jello. Saira's eyes never leave me, but I can't keep my gaze from tracing every line on her back.

"Demons made them. They represent every single person I have watched die. They're my demon scars, my constant reminders of pain of hardship. As if I need marks across my back to remind me," Saira says, adding a bitter laugh.

She turns back around, giving me a view of her unmarked chest and stomach, but my mind can't erase the image of her ruined back. I want to say something, anything, but my vocal cords seem to have been severed.

"I know. It's a lot to take in," Saira says softly, examining her arms. Her eyes kiss every single suicide mark, and my body aches to do the same. But my mind rebels at the idea. My heart screams at me to back away, back away, back away from the dangerous creature before me.

Saira raises her face, her eyes catching mine in their aurora borealis nets. I can't look away, not for anything.

"I came to show you that no matter how much pain you bear, no matter how many times you see Lily's body in your dreams, there is someone stronger than you. Someone who has lived through worse pain, suffered more suffering, grieved more grief. There will always be someone stronger than you, Max Sello. Not better, not by any means, but stronger. I will go to Hell, just as you will. We are both damned. But, because I am stronger than you, I will survive the tortures. I will thrive in them, while you flounder and beg for mercy. I will rise to Lucifer's side, all while you are begging for forgiveness, for another chance."

Saira pulls up her pants, tying them with a cord around her slim waist. She pulls on her hoodie next, making her precious skin disappear. Her gaze enraptures me, and I know that I will never forget her eyes, not for as long as I live.

Saira turns to walk out, but my voice, finally working, stops her. "Did you really kill your family, Saira?" The girl that stole my second heart turns slightly, looking over her shoulder at me. A strand of brown hair flits across her eyes, but she doesn't swipe it away. She looks at me levelly as she says, "The smoke and heat killed them. But someone had to have set the fire. And demons are always great at starting fires."

With that, Saira leaves. I never see her again. But her eyes live in my dreams. The green-red-blue haze that covered them the last time I saw her. Her demon scars, as she called them-the scars across her back-are in my nightmares.

I learned that the heart can blind. Pride can consume. And fear. Well, fear is the most dangerous of all.