I ignored my doubts, my jangling warnings

overcome by his well practiced charm.

He smiled but it didn’t seem to touch

his eyes, it looked rehearsed but

I didn’t notice because they were so blue.

He said just what I wanted to hear -

you’re beautiful, a rose in my lapel.

He spun his web and trapped me there

I ignored whispers of malevolent voices

clanging and shouting to step away.

He liked to maintain power over my life,

was narcissistic and impulsive and reckless.

Sad to say, this attracted me -throbbing magnets

Antisocial, he was, except to me.

To me, he was Prince Charming in dulcet voice,

excusing himself often to snort cocaine

loving the high, enhancing his sexuality.

Seeming disassociated from world outside,

focusing on me and working his magic,

leading me step by step into his lair.

I followed him without a glance back,

he took what he wanted with force -

a coercive sex without love which

gave him excitement without guarantees

and then he added me to his string

of conquests by slitting my throat,

tossing me on the ground to decay.

A true psychopath with no warmth,

I should have been warned by his eyes.

Joshua was grateful to be riding the elevator back up to the top of the tower. Another minute down in the prison chamber would have driven him to insanity. Farther away from all those monsters and fiends trying to get to him. Even farther away from that mysterious yet sinister Mephistopheles.

Yet Mephistopheles' words still haunted Joshua. He couldn't shake his final statements out of this mind. They stuck to him like a splash of tar on skin. But the imprisoned former right hand did bring about some good questions. Did Lu rig the name selection just so Joshua could come to Hell? Was Lu trying to convert him away from what he was taught, away from his faith?

If it was true, Joshua felt like an idiot. How could I've been so foolish, he thought, What was I thinking learning anything from the devil? The devil who tricked Adam and Eve. The devil who twisted the hearts of men. The devil that betrayed God and his angels to only be damned forever along with his demon kind.

Yet despite being the cruel devil that he was taught to avoid by the followers of Christ, Joshua recollected a much kinder and nurturing side that he never knew about this devil. Despite being the lord of darkness and king of the condemned, he was a good king to his demon kind, as well as a rather good and supporting stepparent to his best friend.

Who was this devil for whom man feared and resented? Who was the true face of evil? Is what he was taught from the bible even accurate to what he was shown and told based around the demons he met? So many questions. So much conflict.

The elevator stopped at its final destination, and Joshua exited out. His head hung low, still trying to puzzle together all the burning questions he had. Past the halls of artistic history and towards the towering doors of Lucifer's office Joshua traveled. He opened the door and jumped when he heard the devil's furious call. "YOU!"

Joshua looked up and saw that Lu, Lilith, Legion, Balthazar, and Scrugs were all surrounding a colorless soul that shivered in their presence. Balthazar kept it bound by chains around its thin wrists as Lu interrogated it, violently hold it by its neck.

"YOU!" the devil growled. “You worthless maggot! You did this, didn’t you?”

“N-n-no, my lord,” the soul coughed. It cried only dry tears. “I didn’t know what was inside the bag.”

Lu's backhand flew against the soul's face. "Didn't like that answer. Try it again!"

"Better answer your king," Lilith suggested, "We might be merciful."

"But mercy from you means having vultures pecking out my guts."

"That will be the least of your long list of troubles if you don't answer," the sorcerer Legion bellowed. "Now confess!"

"What's going on?" Joshua demanded, running towards the demon group.

The demons looked over to Joshua. "This is adult talk, Josh." Lu said, "Wait for us outside the office. Thank you."

"No," Joshua stood his ground. His anger was growing. "I want to know what you're accusing this soul of. What's going on here?"

"That's what's going on!" Balthazar answered, pointing his nasty finger towards the floor.

Joshua looked over to where the demon pointed. A large hole in the middle of the office floor was burned wide open. The outer edges were singed to the marble tiles by some kind of molecular acid, but sealed off by layers and layers of ice.

Joshua walked over to the giant hole and looked down. It seemed whatever caused this mess traveled down to four other levels before finally being stopped by a mountain of ice, likely made by one of the demons, or the devil himself, desperately using their powers to cease the acidic material.

"Apparently this wretched had a bag full of holy water," Legion added, "which is dangerous to demons and this world. It tripped and caused all this damage. Luckily Ghuul had the workers evacuated while Moloch and I froze the substance before it could do any more damage. Moloch, however, suffered a couple burns that will take some healing, but he'll hold up just fine."

“Where did you get the holy water?" the devil interrogated the soul again.

“I d-did not know about the h-holy water.” it pleaded once more.

The holy water! Joshua's mouth dropped open. He had forgotten that his mother stashed some holy water inside his backpack before he first came to the Inferno.

“I’ve had enough of this bullcrap." Lu said, finally releasing the soul. "Take him down to the torture chambers and make him talk.”

“Oh we’ll do more than just that, boss.” Balthazar sneered.

“Stop!” Joshua spoke out, “Leave it alone. That holy water came from my bag.”

Lu and his fellow demons stared at the human boy in silence, shocked that he would admit to this. "You dare bring that dangerous, corrosive substance to our dimension?" Legion scolded. All six of his eyes leered with such ire.

"Say it's not true, Josh." Lilith begged.

"Yeah,” Scrugs said. “It ain’t too late to say the soul did it.”

“What’s the big deal?” Joshua defended himself.

"Do you not see the giant hole in my office?" Lu said. "Holy water, in our realm, is dangerous."

"How? It's just blessed water. If crosses can't hurt you-"

"As I said before, young Master Wordsworth," Legion corrected. "Holy objects and relics are not to be taken lightly. While harmless for us to hold, but given the right prayer or incantation..." The old demon sorcerer pulled out a whole chain of holy objects. With his powers of telekinesis, he plucked the smallest cross of the bunch. The tiny relic hovered its way in front of the demon’s covered mouth.

Joshua heard the adviser whisper something to the cross. He didn’t know what he said. He couldn’t even understand the language he spoke. Latin? Arabic? Old English? Whatever Legion said it gave the cross power. Legion’s hand clamped over entirely around the tiny cross. The six-fingered fist struggled to hold the object like he was holding a piece of hot coal.

After a brief five seconds Legion released the cross. The cross, now glowing like a star, continued to float under his unnatural power. Legion held his hand before Joshua. The cross had left his mark, scorched and horribly scarred in the core, a shocking sight that forced Joshua to gasp. “…and they become deadly weapons against us. A power given to your species by the angels during the long war.”

“I…” Joshua gasped. “I didn’t know.”

“We told you about this!” Lu shouted. His anger then faded into confusion. “Didn’t we?”

“No you didn’t!” Joshua shouted, “In fact, despite what you’ve shown be here, there’s still many things that you’ve never share with me.”

“Like what?”

“Did you rig the drawing so that my name would be placed under your internship?”

“What difference does that make?”

“I said did you rig the drawing?”

The devil rolled his eyes. “So I tweaked it a little. Big whoop."

"I should have known you'd do something like this." Joshua's voice raised with is anger. "You're just like the devil my mother always warned me about."

Lu's brows scrunched down. His teeth bared out and his hands balled into fists. His scarlet eyes now consumed by a pool of red. “The devil your mother warned you about?" he growled, sounding more monstrous in his voice. "Are you kidding me? Who do you think you're talking to right now?"

Lu stepped closer towards Joshua. Joshua now realized that he unraveled the devil's fury, stepping back the closer Lu approached. "What's wrong, Joshie? Are you afraid of me? Of us? No it’s not fear I sense. It’s…hate. You hate us? Why? After everything I’ve shown you, you’re still clinging onto that Sunday school garage they’ve shoved down your throat when the reality of everything is dangling in front of your face. Have you honestly learned nothing? Why you ungrateful, little-"

"MY LORD!" his adviser called, "CEASE!"

The devil blinked. The redness of his eyes turned back to their regular form. Lu looked at his intern, who was backed trembling against the wall.

Lu gasped and stepped away. The Beast inside him wanted to hurt the boy. He knew it. He almost obeyed it.

After a moment of silence, Lu sighed. "I tried to show you something different, and I failed. I tried to show you our true world, our true nature, and I failed. I cannot teach you, nor can I not change you. Lilith, escort the boy back to the elevator home. We're done here."

"But I still-" Joshua muttered.

"Get out!" the devil retorted. "Before I do something I'll never regret. After all, it's just like they taught you in your bible study, kid. I'm still the bad guy."

The enchanted elevator crashed back into the office and Joshua hurried inside, departing the maddening world of the Inferno. Before the doors closed Joshua saw the devil cover his eyes with his hands, regretting what he had done and said. His friends, Lilith and Legion, comforted their king the best they could while Balthazar and Scrugs dragged the weak soul off to be tortured regardless.

Despite all the conflicting thoughts in his head, one question remained that Joshua could never figure out the answer to. Why would the devil ever want him to be his intern anyway?

Heather rested her hand on my chest, looking up into my sad eyes. My shattered, broken heart pounded, trying to reach her hand's touch through the barrier of my cotton shirt. A shirt that felt scratchy now.

Heather and I already past the point of no return now. There was no going back from this. My heart was still a broken mess. She was not going to keep that from finally getting what she now wanted.

A part of me, that mostly died ages ago, laughed at the irony of the moment. That part of me would have killed to have Heather wanting me like this then. Then, she was always a tease to the senses, but always was on another's arm.

Was she only attracted to broken things? Or perhaps she was only attracted to those as broken as she was. It didn't matter. We were past the point of no return. Her other hand stroking the bulge in my pants was proof enough that I wasn't going to back out. The wanton, yet cautious look in her eyes was enough proof that she wasn't going to.

Her hand on my chest started to unbutton my shirt, I trembled. For some reason that made her smile. Whenever I trembled with Lisa, she always asked if I was ok. She always found it odd I trembled when I was extremely aroused when we were together. When she still loved me.

Heather's fingers dipped into my opened shirt. Her finger tips were soft and warm and stirred something alive that I haven't felt in ages. It was different from Lisa's touch. Not better or worse. I closed my eyes, sighing and trying to savor the moment.

My memories take me back to a long ago time, the only time that Heather and I made out. Her a drunken, broken-hearted mess. Me, too smitten with her to take the noble road and be the reliable shoulder to cry on. In the moment, she wanted more than my shoulder. On the one hand, it was what I always wanted. To have her in my arms. In the other, it left a bitter taste knowing I was a means to an end. She stopped things before I could round third base. She wanted a fuck and my foolish heart was still lusting for love.

I unzipped her skirt and watch it fall to the ground, watching it caress her bare, shapely legs all the way down. I needed her. I wanted her. Even if to only numb the feeling of my broken heart. I pulled her blouse over her head with more urgency, forcing a break in connection with her hands wandering touches.

Before her blouse met the same fate as her discarded skirt, Heather ripped my shirt opened the rest of the way and began to work my belt.

I slipped my hand into her panties. She was hot and wet. Wetter than Lisa ever was. I felt a pang of shame in thinking that. Yet, I felt an excitement I never thought I would have as well.

Heather hissed through her teeth, looking at with in a wanton glare. Forcing my pants and boxers down in one joined attempted. She smiled seeing my physical lust pop free from its confines. Yes, there was no turning back. She unclasped her laced bra, gyrated her shoulders, and it fell dead to the floor, her breast popping free, still lovely after all of these years from my grasp. I slid my finger inside of her, and she hissed out a, "Fuck!"

It was brutal, but it reached the only part of me that was still living. The only part of me that had a chance to bring the rest of my shattered soul alive. She pulled my hand free and smiled. I brought my soaked fingers to my lips. She shimmied out of her panties, now naked as the day she was born. Her smile took a wicked turn and turned her back to me. She crawled on the bed still facing away from me.

I entered her and we final fucked. Her mouth spilled filth to drive me deeper. Her language plucked at my buried lust like water to parched lips.

She was heaven and hell all rolled up in one, and for the first time in ages I felt more than just a dead man walking.

Her orgasm was a force of nature. Not only did I completely savor it, it forced mine more violently from my body than Lisa ever did. Heather collapsed on the bed laughing in bliss, as if she broke in a mustang. She grabbed my hand and pulled me to join her completely on the bed. She kissed me hard and deep. Lisa never liked kissing this way. I returned it in earnest.

Heather's hand returned to my sex, the tough was like lightning now. Fingers dancing over me enjoying my reaction.

"You don't have to say it, but I can tell baby, no matter how much you loved my silly sister, you love fucking me more."

I didn't say anything.

"The two of you were doomed from the start. I tried to warn you. She never would have fit with you. She never could get you."

Heather climbed on top of me and started grinding against me.

"She loved only half of you..."

Heather slid me in and started to ride me.

"She loved that you were safe and sweet, but she never hungered for you."

Heather bounced on me, I let myself get lost in her.

"I always will, even if all she left me of you is your broken heart."

Heather suddenly stopped. Looked down at me and whispered, "Keep lusting for me baby, and perhaps both of our broken hearts might stumble into love again."

Heather started riding me again, continuing us on the path of no return. There was no happy ending once Lisa found out we were lovers. Lisa and Heather were always rivals though. Always wanting what the other had.

I let myself get lost in Heather, letting her words sink in, letting her flesh sink in, and feeling my lust slowly start to stitch two fragments of my heart together again. Knowing Heather was right on all counts. It stung as much as it thrilled me.

Yet, once Lisa found out, even though she cheated on me and tossed me aside, there was going to be a storm to face.

In the moment though, I barely cared. In the next moment the only thing that mattered was Heather and our shared lust and in her strange way, slowly bringing me back to life. I suddenly realized my missed opportunity with Heather so long ago she needed me to bring her back to life that night, in this very way. Perhaps if I did, her silly sister would have never had a chance to break my heart in the first place.

KALENA 

I scan the surrounding area and see that, of course, Clayton's over there helping Harmony.  I remember them but they will never remember me. Never. I feel a rage building up inside of me and quickly push it back down. I don't have time to get mad at the past, I need to concentrate on my mission. 

     Out of the corner of my eye, I see movement and quickly go into action. I use my heat scanners to see if it's actually human or some security robot. 

     Human

    I turn around and go around behind the movement. It's Logan. 

   What is he doing here? I come up behind him and tap him on the shoulder. He jumps and turns around, instinct kicking in. He goes into a roadhouse kick, barely giving me enough time to duck. He stops when I punch him in the gut. 

     "Quit it and tell me what you're doing here," He stares at me as if he remembers me. "Tell me!" I twist his arm behind his back. He squints a little. 

     "Why should I?" He asks, trying to have a brave voice.

     "Don't pull that Logan" I ad extra accent on the word. His face clouds over for a second and then it's gone. 

     "How do you know who I am?" He asks. 

     "Don't worry about that cause I'm the one asking the questions here," I tighten my grip on his arm and twist it up more. "Tell me!"

     "No," That's all I need. I release him and quick as lightning, knock him out. He crumples to the floor and I jog away. 

     I slow as I walk past a shiny metal wall. I look sideways at myself. The de-aging process did work. Not that I wanted it to. I sigh and continue. I remember those days, the days that I could talk to Logan or anyone else and not have to worry. 

   I look at my reflection. I see a fifteen year-old girl with jet black hair and a stripe of pink.  I smile but the smile disappears and I remember the days when I was remembered.

Wind whistled through the cracks of the old building. The bare light bulb above swung softly back and forth on its cord. It flickered once, and for a moment, I thought it would burn out and leave me alone in a pitch-black room with him, but then it stabilized itself once more.

“Honestly, just go.” I said. My voice was noticeable hostile, but most of the rough edge in it came from the surging pain still shooting up my leg.

“And just what do you hope to accomplish if I leave?” He questioned slabbing orange putty into one of the larger cracks around the door. Another violent wind creaked against the walls, and brought in flurries of the blizzard outside. I shuttered pulling the covers closer to me.

“Don’t act like a savior.” I replied evenly. “You’re not a hero. Don’t act like fixing my leg and staying by my side magically makes up for everything. It’s out of obligation that you won’t leave right now, and nothing more.”

There was no reply. I watched him mechanically apply more putty to the walls and smooth it out with a putty knife. Though I knew he was wearing less layers than I was, my teeth chattering was the only other thing heard besides the wind outside. “Shield your chest, and stop blowing hot air on your hands. You can lose a finger and survive.” He said finally.

“I know.” I snapped, but I complied all the same. He finished scrapping the last bit of putty into a crack and then set the half-used jar and knife on the table. His thick boots crunched against the layer of ice built up on the floor. I leaned my head against the wall behind me and closed my eyes a moment. The sound of Saul digging through the million drawers of the room blended almost in perfect sync with the raging storm outside. Now that the holes were sealed, the whistling of the winds had dampened dramatically, but the ceiling stilled creaked with each shift outside. 

The air was frigid and while so many had told me they kept schools cold to keep students awake, I was beyond exhausted in their weather. Or maybe it wasn’t the weather. Maybe it was the travels, or the effort it took walking on broken bones, or maybe it was the lack of food and water. No matter the cause, I could only silently curse at my principals for making school more miserable than it had to be. I realized it was a pointless fact to think about at the time, but it was the one that distracted me from the scenario around me.

“What obligation?” Saul’s voice sent a jolt through my systems like an electric shock, and my eyes snapped open. He’d somehow moved from the drawers to the center of the floor surrounded by parts of the broken space heater. I must’ve dozed off a moment because my mind was far to foggy to understand what he was talking about.

“What?” I asked groggily.

“You said I’m only staying out of obligation. I asked you to explain what obligation you think I’m staying for.” He said calmly. His voice naturally sounded calm and firm, but currently he sounded something more. There was a different vibe about the way he was speaking or sitting. He seemed almost rational.

I rolled my eyes. “I’m your daughter. You’re staying out of the obligation to actually earn the title father. Tell me I’m wrong.”

“You’re wrong.” He replied.

I scoffed. “I don’t want to hear it. Just leave already. While you may not have been born with a conscious, I was, and so despite my hatred, I don’t want your death on my hands.”

He went silent again. His face was concentrated on the small part and screwdriver in his hand.

“You know, you don’t have to say umm in your sentences to pretend you’re not stalling until you can think of something good.” I said closing my eyes once more. “It’s still obvious.”

“Is that something you’ve read in a text book then?” He asked. “Saying ‘um’ in a sentence seems like a very odd trait to give a psychopath.”

“But it’s very logical. You clearly already knew of that trait which is why you reframe from doing it and now you’re trying to gaslight me into believing my evidences isn’t factual because 'I’m the crazy one', right?”

“What does saying ‘um’ often in a sentence has to do with psychopaths?” He demanded, becoming frustrated because I was right.

It was stupid. He was baiting me into an argument so he could twist my words and make me appear incompetent on the subject. He wouldn’t argue his point first because he was excellent on not giving me fuel. He had to be the one with all of the answers and he couldn’t handle it when I saw right through his tricks. Still, despite knowing what he was doing, I couldn’t help falling right back into my old habits of defense.

“Psychopaths want to appear normal. They fake emotions, and charm others with a sense of safety. But to do that they have to make a good impression, don’t they? So, often a lot of them stumble with several ‘uhs’ and ‘ums’ to buy time. You want to make sure you’re phrasing it in the best way possible. You want to make sure what you’re saying will reap benefits for you.”

“So anyone who says ‘uh’ in their sentence is automatically a psychopath. Good logic.” He mocked. I felt heat rise to my cheeks a bit as I become flustered.

“No, didn’t you listen? I was saying that psychopaths have a tendency to say ‘uh’ and ‘um’ more than normal people every time they talk. But you know this already, don’t you? That’s why you get rid of all of the ‘uh’ and ’um’s together and just go quiet when you need an extra moment to rephrase things. Obviously there’s a lot of other traits you do as well.”

“Basically, you’re not allowed to think before you say something or you’re a psychopath?”

I huffed angrily. “Twist my words all you want, it’s still what you are.”

Then there was another round of silence. I peeked my eyes open to observe him. His dark face faltered a bit but he didn’t look away from his work. “I’m sorry.” He said. I scoffed. “I fall into old habits. Even with the artificial emotions… I just wish you could accept that I’m different now. I’ve gotten help.”

“Artificial emotions don’t change who you are. You’re still a sadist bastard. The only difference is someone’s implanted fake emotions so you can understand more. Still doesn’t make it real. The real you doesn’t feel that. The real you doesn’t sympathize with me in this moment and the real you never will.”

He grimaced a bit, my words obviously hitting an artificial nerve. Though I wondered if I were wrong for feeling the way I did, I wouldn’t take it back. After everything he’d done, I had every right to shoot him. Of course, I didn’t have a gun. I didn’t have anything on me. I was bundled in five layers of thick clothing to keep out the storm and Saul had made me a brace for my leg. That was all I had on me.

“They did more than that, you know…” He said.

“I’m glad.”

He went silent again and tried to finish tinkering with the part in his hand. He stuck it back into the space heater and suddenly it roared to life. It was shaking and rattling worse than the wind outside, but I could feel it’s power already. Heat began radiating from it. I pushed the blanket from me and attempted to move closer on my own. He sat there watching my struggles with a half glare and half amused look. Half of him felt sorry for me, and the other half was still pissed at my hostility. He partly felt like I deserved it and partly wished I’d allow him to help if he were to offer. But he didn’t offer because he knew I wouldn’t accept his help.

I grunted in frustration of trying to get to my feet without falling. The pressure on my leg brought immediate tears to my eyes, but I pushed myself forward until I could take a seat across from him at the table. The space heater sat in between us, but just enough to the left that we could still see each other. I glare down at the metal table cursing fate for placing me in this situation.

“We’re just staying here for tonight and then we’ll get going again tomorrow.” He said.

“I can’t walk.” I said through gritted teeth. “You can’t expect me to walk the rest of the way to safety.”

“Then you’ll starve.” He replied evenly. He was shivering, but tried to wear a façade as if the blizzard outside wasn’t a problem for him, just me.

“Then I’ll starve.” I agreed. “My leg was crushed under impact, Saul. People don’t just get up and walk that off. Most people go to a hospital and spend months recovering. But seeing as we’re in the middle of nowhere in a blizzard, most people die.”

“And I’m supposed to just accept that?” He raised his eyebrow.

“I supposed not. Leaving me to die would look terrible on your reputation. Because while you could always say I died and you couldn’t save me, you’d worry I’d be found or that I’d somehow make it on my own. That’s the obligation that keeps you.”

His eyes narrowed and I could see his actual emotions poking through, not just the ones the company had surgically placed in him. I was really getting to him. He’d always wanted a daughter. He’d always wished for someone completely under his control, but I was old enough to know now. I was educated enough to understand what he was and what he did. I’d been through too much therapy to fall into our old habits so easily. Or I had been able to keep strong until the last few months.

“No, it’s not what keeps me.” He said firmly.

“I know.” I retorted just as firmly. “But it’s not love either. I know what keeps you. You don’t want to have wasted all of those years plotting and all of that time and resources to get me back just to be the cause of my death. Your sanity rests in my hands and with me dead, no one else would be persuaded to help you. That’s what actually keeps you. That’s why you’re pretending to be a father to me now. That’s why you’re pretending my life means so much and that you’re fixed. But I’ve done enough research to know, they can’t cure you. They didn’t try to cure you. They only tampered so heavily with your mind and body so that you couldn’t take anyone else out with you. I was the only one that didn’t sign it when I should’ve.”

There was a round of tense silence and then a flash of movement. The chair scrapped against the concrete floor and toppled backwards with a loud crash. His palms slammed down onto the table as he stood abruptly and a small frustrated growl escaped him.

My breath caught in my throat and I flinched back with a small gasp. My hands flew up in front of me as a shield and his strong hands enclosed my arms, pulling me towards him over the table. I cried out from the pain of my movements. His face was scrunched up and his eyebrows were furrowed with rage. His dark grey eyes stared me down, pupils contracting. My face was now very close to the rattling space heater on the table and the heat felt pleasant but extremely alarming at the same time.

“They told you?” He demanded.

I couldn’t seem to get the air in my lungs I needed for the snarky reply I had in mind. “Of course, they told me!” I squeaked.

“What did they tell you?!” He shouted.

“Let me go!” I yanked back but his grip tighten and fresh tears came from the pain my struggling caused me.

“I need to know.” The rattling of the space heater was almost deafened by his voice for a moment. And then, like a switch, he blinked, his eyes dilating, and his face showing the conflicting emotions of the situation. He was fighting the surgery.

“They told me your surgery was for a number of things, not only the emotions. They told me you were sick. They told me that if you had the brain development or whatever that was normal, you wouldn’t act this way, that you would actually give a shit about me. They said they could give artificial ones, but it was very likely you’d override them. They said it was all experimental but mostly risk-free. They said they wanted to plant safety measures in to make sure you couldn’t become a menace again. But mostly, they wanted to make sure you couldn’t hurt anyone who was once in your life again. They said to do that, I had to sign papers for them to implant a personal safety measure.”

His grip was still like iron claws around my wrist, but tears welled in his eyes. “Then why didn’t you sign them?” He asked. I didn’t answer. My gaze was set to the heater to my left. I watched the metal contraption sputter and whine about the effort. I stared at the water droplets that was beginning to magically appear on the table from the thin layer of ice melting around it. “Everyone else did.” He whispered. “Everyone but you.”

“I wanted to.” I said softly. “I wanted to hate you like everyone else. I wanted to believe everything you did was in your control.” My words seemed so far away, and somehow the light seemed dimmer than ever. The heater puffed and gave a long shuttering whine. The ceiling groaned as the wind picked up speed outside again. “They said you were sick..... They said you were born this way...." I turned to look at him with a soft sigh. "You were born with the wrong genes, the wrong biochemistry, the wrong whatever. You were born into the wrong environment, you grew up with the wrong treatment, and technology wasn’t available for you then.” His grip loosen and I stared up at him tiredly. “You’re not a psychopath. You’re worse. There are some psychopaths that can function normally, and can even feel things you can’t. There are so many out there that don’t commit crimes or use force to get their way. Maybe you started on that spectrum, I don’t know. All I know is I stood in front of a council debating your death and convinced them you could be cured.”

His chest rose and fell with some effort but he released my wrists. His eyes searched mine. “That doesn’t answer the question.” He said.

“You were given unstable chemicals when you were a kid to treat this. The treatments made it worse but you didn’t tell. You grew up to convince the world you belonged in society. You made a woman fall for you and she had my half-sister. You made my mother fall for you, and she had me. People flocked towards you because you were sporadic and always knew what to say. You were smart and you were fearless. You could fake any emotion, any reaction, and convince people of anything because you learned to manipulate the world like a chess board.”

“That doesn’t answer the question.” He repeated, his voice rising a bit from the surge of emotions overtaking him.

I ignored him and continued. “But slowly everyone around you could feel the shift. While your presence made everyone feel amazing in the moment, once you were gone, they would remember why they didn’t want to be with you. They would be reminded of all of the degrading things you slipped into your words and actions. They would remember all of the subtle but malicious attacks on their identity and sanity. They would start questioning themselves again and wonder if what you said was intentional, if they could confront you on it or if it would all just be swept under the rug again with fruitless lies and half-hearted excuses. My mother would turn to drugs to cope. My half-sister would turn to love partners to escape. And I would be sent through my own internalized self-hatred and self-blame. You turned to destruction when everyone started drifting and falling apart. The drugs they gave you as a child only strengthen your need to for violence and everything else you did.”

“Why didn’t you sign it? Why didn’t you allow them to prevent me from getting to you? Why open yourself up for all of this?” He demanded once more.

“I was asked to sign papers to make sure you could never come near me again because if you sought revenge on us all you needed at least one of us on your side. Everyone was moved to different locations to start different lives, under different names, and if you wanted revenge you needed to find one of us to help you find the others. Then you needed that one to be morphed on your side because you can’t physically do it anymore. I was asked to sign papers because I would know how to reverse everything they did to you.”

“Why didn’t you sign the damn papers?!” He shouted.

“Because,” I said simply. “I wanted you to find me. I wanted to see if I’d made the right choice of saving your life.”

There was a long pause. The light flickered above again, leaving the room in a split second of darkness and then steadied again. The heater made a clicking noise and gave another sputtering sigh before continuing with it’s steady humming. The wind rustled softly in the background of it all.

“Did you?” He asked, a tear sliding down the side of his face.

“No.” I replied with a sigh. Guilt tugged at my heart as I took a seat. “I didn’t. And that’s why I signed a backup plan.”

His eyes narrowed and his lip became a thin line. Another tear ran down the same side of his face. “What are you talking about?” He asked.

“I had a tracker placed in me, among other things. They’re going to take you back now. Everything they thought would happen came true. Everything they said you would do came true. The council has to rethink things now. And this time, I’m not going to be there to fight for you.”

His eyes began flickering from side to side, his body tensing. His breathing became unhinged once more and he glared me half uncertain, half afraid, and small percent of him resigned. “What are you talking about?” He demanded again.

“I told you to leave me, Saul. I told you I didn’t want your death on my conscious. You wouldn’t listen. I’m not sorry. You deserve it, and I’m not sorry.”

The sound of a metal door slamming shut sounded outside and Saul glanced at the door in alarm and then back to me angrily. His eyes contracted and dilated in confusion. Once someone spoke through the hypnosis tool they used, he’d be under their control once more. He’d become a mindless zombie to them. “No.” He growled angrily. “How could you?”

Low mummers were heard outside from what sounded like a group of people. Saul suddenly pulled out a gun. “Fine, but this is still on your conscious.” He hissed. The barrel was aimed in my direction and then ‘bang’. I toppled over backwards in my chair to the floor, my body in utter shock. I couldn’t feel anything. Then another loud ‘bang’ sounded and a second body fell to the floor. My mind stalled and nothing seemed to make sense. I laid on my back staring up at the light above. It swung softly back and forth. Drops of red had appeared on one side of it. It was from Saul’s direction. To my left, the door slammed open and a flurry of bodies entered the room with heavy guns and loud demanding instructions.

I knew they were going to take him. They were going to take him and I’d never see him again. I couldn’t protect him this time. I couldn’t get him out of his problems this time. I was suddenly gasping and choking out cries.

“D…d-don’t…. k-k-kill… ’im.” I murmured. I didn’t know if it was loud enough. I didn’t know if it had even been said or only thought. Someone was talking to me, shining a light in my face. There was someone else beside me, holding pressure to the wound. The light bulb swung more rapidly at the rush of wind that entered through the door. It flickered once more and recomposed itself, but I never did.