Page 91 of Devil Inside

Some heads turn my way, spotting me by the side of the road. I see the Grim Reaper give me a nod as he rides past, as if to say—Be seeing you again soon, bud...

And then the bikes are all gone, lost in the night. Swallowed by the shadows.

I’m not going anywhere. I’m just going to stay right here. Feet on the ground.

I hear that shrill squeal of rubber over concrete before I see it, the sound of a bike braking.

The Devil skids before me. He comes to a complete halt only a few feet away. His chest’s heaving, rising and falling, while he’s got this shit-eating grin plastered all across his face. The sweat pebbling his upper lip is causing his painted mustache to smear.

He doesn’t say a word.

“I’m good,” I say, assuming he’s here to check up on me. Make sure I’m okay.

But he doesn’t leave.

“I got this,” I say.

He’s just waiting. For what, I don’t have a clue.

“Can I help you with something?”

That only gets him to grin wider.

His neck—it cricks. Tilts to the side so fast, I can hear the bones crack. The hollow pop of his vertebrae rings out into the night, a lonesome windchime of this man’s spine.

His head, still bent, slowly lifts. His eyes never leave me. That grin never slips.

Until it does.

His lips slip. Crayons melting in the microwave. They droop, bubble and blister, dragging his cheeks down with them. The bags under his eyes sag before scalloping.

His whole face melts. It’s only a matter of time before it falls to the street.

Then it starts to swirl. Somehow gravity lets go and the whole morass of this man’s face twirls upward, seemingly on its own, forming a soupy spiral. A vortex of melted flesh.

What the fuck am I looking at?

“See you soon, Jordan,” he slurps—with that, he’s off, lifting his legs and leaning forward with his right, pressing down on the pedal and riding out. “Take care of yourself.”

I just watch him go, wondering who in the hell that even was.

How did the Devil know my name?

heart-to-heart

Lilith

I feel like we can talk, you and I. Don’t you think? I certainly hope so...Just us girls?It’s so hard to find someone you can open up to nowadays. Everyone is so closed off. They’re afraid to open up. To share themselves. Talk about what’s really going on inside.

Trust. It’s all abouttrust, isn’t it?

Can I trust you, Laura?

It is Laura, isn’t it? There’s no one else I can really talk to—I don’t have many friends, I’m afraid—about these things. The wriggling feelings, writhing about the shadows.

There’s Jordan, of course. He’s the one making us feel this way in the first place... but we’re suddenly so uncertain of ourselves. Does he feel the same way about us?

About me?