Page 45 of Devil Inside

Melting.Their faces are melting. Lips drip, cheeks sag. Thebags of skin under their eyes drag, bubbling and blistering before popping altogether.

I close my eyes, let my breath settle, force myself to focus, before opening them again.Good as new.Just a regular face. A perfect stranger. Nothing off about them at all.

Ever since Lilith, I haven’t trusted the touch of anything. I can’t believe my own eyes. Unfamiliar faces feel more unfamiliar, strangers even stranger. It’s like I don’t understand the surface of things anymore. There’s something else, something underneath these faces.

They’re completely different people, hiding in plain sight.

Wearing masks.

I know how paranoid I sound. Downright delusional.Prep the padded wagons.But it’s true. I’m waiting for Lys to drop the bomb on me, detonation in T-minus three seconds...

Three...

Two...

“We gonna talk about it?”

“Talk about what?” I say, playing coy, like I don’t know exactly what she’s referring to.

“What’s going on with you.”

“What’s there to say?”

“You hanging in there?”

By a thread.“Oh, you know... Can’t complain.” I haven’t been down to this part of Shockoe Bottom since the accident. The streets here feel different to me now. They warp in ways I hadn’t noticed before, as if the cobblestones under my feet are suddenly rupturing, every brick boiling over with more bricks, just this endless churning of stones.

“So... is this the new you?” Lys asks. “You’re gonna hide in your shell-shocked shell all day, then go postal on frat boys? Since when did you become such a psychotic turtle?”

“Ouch.Don’t hold back on me now.”

“Should I? Want me to treat you with kiddy gloves?” My grace period for space must be up. A few months in the hospitalstaring at the ceiling led to a few months in my apartment staring at the wall. Now I’m getting dragged back into the sun and it’s blinding.

None of my friends have seen the things I’ve seen. They don’t know what’s out there. What fate is awaiting us all. I’ve seen it. Hell or purgatory orwhateveryou want to call it.

What did I do to deserve damnation? How long until I go back?

“Work on your bedside manner, Lys. Just a little.”

“Yeah, right. Like that’s gonna happen.” Lys has always been the only woman in a boyz club. She gives zero fucks, but sometimes I wonder if that’s just a brick wall—broadcastingdon’t mess with mevibes—for our sake. Clearly she cares, even if she pretends to be tougher than the rest of us. She channels her energy into activism. She single-handedly organized the food drive for the homeless living in the heart of Monroe Park, feeding the people living there... until the police broke it up.

Have I ever leveled with Lys? Why not let her in? “Look,” I say, “I get that you’re worried. I appreciate it. I really do. It’s just...”

I don’t know why I’m here. Getting out. Getting fresh air. Getting around people. I know I need to immerse myself in activities, or distract myself, but I can’t do it anymore.

“Just...what?” she asks, dragging me back.

“I’m just working through some shit.”

“We’re all worried about you.” What a broken record. “We see you sinking into yourself and it’s... it’s just not healthy.”

“Need more kale in my diet, huh?”

“Deak tried,” she says, “and that bombed. Freel’s up next, if you don’t get your shit together, and you just know he’s going down in a blaze of glory.”

“So that’s what this all is? You guys are taking turns? See who can save me?”

“You got a better idea?” Lys asks. “I’m all for suggestions.”