the devil on 23rd street

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: September 29, 2017

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Submitted: September 29, 2017

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With soft hands and a rough attitude, she walked down the street towards what could only be described as her inevitable doom. She held her head high even though the mascara smeared beneath her eyes suggested that her tears had only just recently stopped. Her face was captivating, not in a beautiful way, it was more how her eyes were so red that they almost resembled fresh blood and how her bottom lip was a sunset in its own. The bite marks that were a number of deep reds and purples against the soft pink.

She walked with her head held high and murder in her heart and reached the Bay house at a courter to three with only a few extra marks against her skin to add to her ever-growing collection. Her mind screamed at her to run, screamed at her to hide and never ever return to this place or the swelling darkness that slept within. But she had become desperate. She had no food, no money, and no way to live besides selling her body to strangers on the street. Instead, she opted to sell her soul to the devil on 23rd street. But even that was better than returning to the place from which she came.

He wasn’t much at first glance. He lived in a tiny shack too close to the waves and it looked as if it were put together by children with plastic hammers and its' colors were harsh yellows and blues that made your eyes burn. And from a distance, he looked like an old man using his last few days to listen to the sweet melody of the sea. White hair and a disheveled face were the only signs of mortality though because when you looked into his eyes you could see fire and terror and every nightmare you have experienced in your entire life in the milky white. The horror would clog your mind and you’d be frozen, like a stone. He was the original Medusa. And he sat here every day, waiting for the pitiful children that everyone knew would come, eventually.

She neared him and the closes she got the colder she became, and she suddenly realized that her shirt and pants were covered in holes. It was barely a strap of cloth covering her chest but she ignored her exposure and continued to walk into the fire. It was expected after the way she fought so hard to get free. This time of pain and breaking was what pushed her to become nothing and everything at once. She wasn’t noticed, or wasn’t acknowledged at least, until she stood directly behind the man. And the cold became so bad that it began to burn her fingertips and she wanted to scream. To scream and run and hide and bang her head against a wall until she forgot this feeling. The feeling that she was worthless, hideous, scum that didn’t deserve to even look at the back of this man's head. The feeling that everything she was was and everything she believed in or ever loved was invalid and unimportant. Even though she wanted to escape again, she stood. She endured the pain with gritted teeth and waited for what felt like hours.

She heard him sigh in defeat as he rose from his seat in the sand and turned to her. As she gazed at the old man with the white eyes he suddenly changed. As he grinned, the hump of years of pain in his back disappeared and he straightened to a height of at least 6 feet. She watched, her mouth agape, as the wrinkles and liver spots disappeared from his flesh and were replaced by tan, muscular skin, that she remembered grasping and clutching like her life had depended on it. And she flinched slightly as his hair turned into the most beautiful dark black locks that she desperately wanted to run her hands through. When he looked into her eyes she saw the eyes of nightmares, light blue pools that she had gotten lost in many times before. He smirked at her and she wanted to vomit. And the sense to run became harder to ignore.

Her devil. This sick, twisted man had become someone she hated with her whole being. Someone she loved with every inch of her heart. Someone she wanted dead. The someone she had come here to kill. This, whatever he is, had become the demon of her life. The thing that controlled every second of her life and made her regret it when she didn’t do exactly what he said. A growl worked its way out of her throat and he chuckled and she melted. And it made her want to run her fingernails down the sides of her face.

“Why’d you come here?” The man purred in her face and she held back the need to gasp for air and gouge out his eyes. Everything was the same, down to the way he talked and held himself. With a cocky, die-hard grin that made her knees weak and made her want to wrap her hands around her head a cry. She noticed that even the light freckles that graced his cheekbones were there. She had kissed every single one of them. She loved them. “Angel kisses” she had called them. What irony placed them on the face of a devil, in this world and the other.

Finally, she tore her eyes away from the perfect face in front of her and choked out,”You know why.” She glanced back up and focused in on those eyes. But then she felt a cold warning crawl up her spine and she pulled away quickly and instead decided to study the stray hairs of his right eyebrow.

He laughed again, all he ever did was laugh at her. “You sure you can handle it, sweetie,” he walked around and rested to stand behind her,”wouldn’t you miss this.” His hand wrapped around her waist and stroked her stomach, and she let him. “These hands,” he proceeded to touch her bare skin through the shreds of her shirt. “This voice,” he whispered in her ear and she shivered. “These lips,” he kissed down the back of her neck and she lost all control. She desperately wanted to turn around and her lips against his and taste him and touch him, again, and again, and again until she was numb. And that disgusted her. He was a drug that continued to break her, she knew that he was tearing her down piece by piece and yet she still returned to claim her fix.

She whirled around and placed her hands against his chest. It took all the strength she had in every inch of her body, but she pushed him away. She took a deep breath in and pushed him away. “Yes, I always will, but,” she choked back a sob,” I can’t live like this anymore. And he’ll never let me leave. I’ll never let myself leave.” She wanted to cry but she held it back. His face didn’t change, it still held the same shape and smile. She wouldn’t leave cause he would always do something to convince her to stay. He would beg on his knees, plant kisses down her spine, cry into her shoulder. He would preach about how he would never raise and hand to her again, never hurt her again. And she would believe him. And she would stay.

He took a small step forward and she took one back. Her control was leasing with every second she looked at him. “You do understand, that if you do this,” he leaned in to become eye level with her, ”that you’ll never get to pass those oh so great pearly gates in the clouds.” She noticed the twinkle in his eyes at having her, ”you, your soul, will be mine. That will never change. You do know that, don’t you?” He genuinely looked like he pitied her, but she didn’t believe it. This being didn’t feel pity, or remorse, or guilt, or anything human. It only felt hunger, the need to feed.

“I know,” she said with a puffed out chest, "and that’s fine.” She glanced at her feet and back up again quickly. Weakness was not an option in this situation, even if that was all was feeling. All that she was becoming.”Just make it so that he’ll never hurt me or anyone ever again. Make him feel the same pain and experience the same torture he put me through,” she glanced into his eyes and she knew he could see the fire of revenge that burned brightly in her eyes. The man smiled even more,”Let me restart my life without him and I swear, you can have me.” The man very much liked the idea of that. He liked her very much.

“Very w-,” but she cut him off.

“One more thing, I wanna be the one to slit his throat when it’s all over.” Yes. He decided, he liked her immensely.

“As you wish.” He smirked and stuck out his hand. She took one long breath and held it as she reached for his hand and grasped it firmly. They shook once and it was over. All of it done. And as she let out that breath, she never would take another in.

 


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