The Game (Revised)

Okay! Here is my revision for my assignment The Game. I know it's far from perfect especially since I pretty much completely re-wrote the scene, but I hope I was able to fix some of the things my peers were suggesting through at least most of it. :) Playlist

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I stuffed my hands in the pockets of my jacket before the icy air could bite at them as the greasy taxi drove off. It was almost strange for it to be so cold this early in the evening. The street lights hadn't flickered on quite yet, but the dry street still held an almost icy glow. It was a warning of the wonderland that the week of Christmas always brought. I would be alone again, but I didn't really mind. Maybe I would if I was sure it was my last.

I took one last look around the long street of abandoned buildings, dark and towering like tombstones, their skeletal grins and hallowed eyes taunting me.

A sigh escaped me, my breath fogging my vision, but I could still see that there was practically no one else on the street.

My tennis shoes were louder than I expected as they meet the splitting pavement, another sign. I was becoming less agile. My doctor said no running, which was fine. I had no intentions to, I was a good girl. Well, unless I really had to of course, but I wasn't planning on any dangerous encounters today.

The Styx lay before me, a shorter building than the rest that surrounded it, but twice as wide. How anyone had turned this place into a club escaped me. It seemed to be hardly holding its own weight, the roof sagging slightly, like a thumb rubbed in clay. Something I neglected to notice in the dark the night before on my search for a phone with the club's owner, Nick. He'd had me very distracted.

Most would think you'd know evil when you saw it, especially if you were as devote as I was. The Lord is supposed to guide you, warn you of danger. So, running into The Rebel Son himself should send off a million warnings, but even though I knew who I was facing as he offered his help when I was stranded, nothing told me to stay away.

Even so, I knew I should stay clear. Did I want to make the situation worse? No. So why had I come back when his offer the previous night had turned into a payment? He'd taken something of mine.

I could hear my mother begging me to let it go, it wasn't worth it. If she were here to actually tell me that then she would be right. I would be okay, I had prayed for safety tonight.

I strode up to the club, the blacked out windows as inviting as the mostly misspelled profanities carved out among the cracks. Colored lights flashed through the cracks like lightning, becoming more visible as the sky darkened.

Drake, the same doorman that was there the night before, was sitting in a chair up against the wall, it was leaning back, his neck crooked to the side, a steady stream of drool hanging on the side of his face, his dark sweater bunched up around his arms and neck hiding the tattoos I knew were there. The lights from the windows reflected off the top of his bald head, a rainbow of fire.

Drake nearly flew out of his chair when the music started his eyes glassy, but wild. The three beer bottles on his lap crashed to the pavement. I sidestepped the shards, but they continued to rattle toward me as the sound waves moved the earth under my feet.

He righted himself, his round face set into a frown, wrinkles drawn onto his mostly bare forehead.

"Guess the party's officially started for tonight." He mumbled, sighing, his mouth then stretching into a yawn his tongue curling like a feline.

I considered just going past him into the club and begin my search, but I had to ask him one thing first.

It seemed to take him a moment to realize I was there, but when his eyes settled on me he chuckled.

"Well if it isn't angel!" he chirped. Folding his arms and looking me up and down, laugh lines appearing around his eyes.

I was so glad he was amused.

"Told you you'd be back, didn't I doll face?" he chuckled.

I ignored his remark, folding my own arms across myself, gesturing to the club with my head.

"Is he in there?"

His smile went down a little, a loose guitar string. "Well, Miss…Amy was it? I don't know. He could be. I'm not his babysitter."

Did everyone have to play with me here?

"Fine." I muttered, and with a raise of my eyebrows, strode toward the door.

"If you really want something from him that badly, he'll probably find you."

Good, then he won't come looking for me because it wasn't him I wanted.

"On second thought," Drake chuckled, a dark sound, like a broken toy clown forever replaying its last vow. "He'll just find you anyway."

I didn't look at him. I didn't want to see the expression that matched the sound and I prayed Nick wasn't here.

Once I crossed the threshold I meet near instant blackness, an orange glow slightly lit up the small corridor that twisted to the right. Posters, graffiti, and various other dark colored stains covered the walls. I did my best not to look too carefully at them. In and out was the plan.

The hall turned a sharp corner to the left then opened to the dance floor.

I was slammed with an instant headache. The strobe lights paired with the music directly throbbing in my face that swam conflictingly among every kind of smoke and disgusting, gagging smell you can imagine made me nauseous to the point of stumbling over my own feet for a moment. My eyes watered, the fumes burning and stinging them as I tried to find the small stair case that led to Nick's floor through the haze. The crowd pulsating together moved toward me, instantly suffocating me in heat. I backed away into another person behind me, but they were too high to care. I wanted to leave. Being in this mess this long was dangerous for me. I tried to turn around and go the way I came, trying not to bump into anyone sober enough to notice, when I saw them. Small skull lights hung from the low ceiling bouncing along happily to the pounding beat.

I remembered them from the light before, hanging over me like demonic beacons as Nick had dragged me through the cloud to his personal room where he'd said the phone would be.

I followed the hanging lights along the far wall to my right, worming my way through the bodies not making eye contact with any one of them. I managed not to trip over tangled feet or couples thrown against the wall and tables. The tables and chairs that weren't broken were occupied, and most that weren't broken were getting there. I wasn't able to hear the sound effects of their activities. I couldn't help a sudden moment of gratitude for the volume of the music that was surely going to leave a constant buzzing in my ears for the rest of my life.

The stairs were intact, three small cement steps that led to a splitting wooden door. I stole a quick glance around the room. No one was paying any attention to me. The peeling paint on the doorknob tickled my skin as my hand closed around it. It turned needlessly until I cranked it as hard as I could and the door opened. I only opened it enough for me to slip through then closed it slowly behind me. It made a small click as it settled in the frame and to my surprise it muffled the noise a short distance below to a mellow hum.

Sunset was stealing through the gritty window to my right, casting a pinkish glow on the open curtains and around the room. It made the bare walls except for what was left of the peeling black wallpaper along with the tarnished wooden floor seem more pathetic than when I'd first seen it, but I had been more worried about getting a taxi out of here than the décor.

"Looking for something?"

Before I could turn around an arm encircled my waist, trapping me against a body behind me. A hand snaked under my jacket, picking at the hem of my shirt, fingertips icy from the cold outside on my bare skin.

"So happy to see you're back," Nick's lips were at my ear, his hot breath wrapping around my neck, "but something tells me it's not to pay the little debt you've racked up with me from various favors." he hissed. I tried to ignore the chill that settled in as his hand that wasn't in my shirt traced up my leg, coming to a stop and hovering just before the inside of my thigh.

Nothing moved except for the quick rise and fall of my chest as he held me there. I was too afraid to move like I was in the clutches of some animal and any movement would mean my death. I held my breath as his lips settled on my throat, lingering as if tasting it, the stubble on his face scratching my neck.

A slow, thick sigh of disappointed passed through his lips and he released me. My skin tingled.

He strode passed me and I watched him, catching my breath, holding back the retort that was seething on my tongue. Nick flopped lazily into a once gaudy chair. It creaked against his weight and was now in near pieces, showing faded signs of what it once had been. I could almost see it in front of me, the blood red velvet with the stained black walnut arms curving to ends of dark skulls with snakes wrapping out of their open and cracked mouths. Nick lounged in his throne as he glared at me with eyes that contained every kind of blue that I could imagine. The fire they roared in hardly seemed contained by his body. A frown sat on his lips, the rest of his face relaxed, bored. He fingered almost absent-mindedly one of the tears in the chair's fabric. "Why?"

"You stole something from my apartment." I said strictly, trying for hostility, but only managing to whine.

The sun had set further and its fading rays settled on Nick playing with the highlights in his brown hair that settled around his ears as he smiled. The smirk was quick, there in a flash, but there wasn't a gleam in his eyes, especially once his grin was gone. My eyes focused on his face, watching for any other expression when I noticed his skin.

Before he'd sat down into the sunlight it had seemed perfectly normal, fair, but still the same ivory that colored my own body. Now it seemed sickly transparent, revealing the shadow of not flesh, but bone underneath.

If my face had shown my horror, he hadn't noticed and appeared to be deep in thought with his hands folded under his nose.

"Sit." He said suddenly.

I looked around, but there wasn't any other chair in the room. "On the floor?" I tried to clarify.

"NO!" the tone of his voice sounded almost like a possessed child and he grabbed me and yanked me down into his lap. "Here." His voice had changed now, seductive once again, his nose grazing my face, but his grip wasn't kind, his fingers cutting into my arm with enough strength to instantly cut off the circulation to my hand.

I couldn't stop myself from gasping in pain, tears pooling in the corners of my eyes.

"What do you want from me?" I panted.

Nick's hand let go of my arm and began stroking my hair a few of his own brown locks out of place, the other hand caressing my face as examined my eyes, his eyebrows turned down in a look of pity. "Do you know what a child, especially a boy, does when there is a toy that someone else got instead of him?"

I had no idea where he was going with this. How could the picture he had stolen possibly mean anything to him?

When I didn't answer he leaned his head toward mine until our noses nearly touched and whispered, "He breaks it."

I tried to figure out what he was talking about as he reached into the front pocket of his shirt, taking out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He lit one, the flame dancing before my eyes as if it had all of the answers. The breath he dragged in through the cigarette was long, and smooth, which seemed strange to me with all of the smoke that was going into his lungs.

He snatched the cigarette from his mouth, holding it between two fingers lazily. The end burned a smoldered in the side of my vision as he blew smoke in my face.

I held my breath and turned away, waiting for it to pass, but it got to me and I began to cough.

"Come on Amy." He prodded my shoulder with his fingers. "I know you're smarter than that."

He took another drag, but didn't direct the chemicals directly toward me. "What do you have that I don't?"

He couldn't have meant some worldly item. I was sure that anything he wanted he could get easily. I racked my brain with what I knew about the devil, and it didn't take long before it hit me. What was the one thing Lucifer would always be denied?

"You don't have a body."

Nick flashed his teeth at me again. "Good girl." He took my hand and examined it with a strange curiosity, his eyes shining. His hand completely encased my own, his fingers long and spidery, but in no way suggesting they lacked strength and were now warm to the point where they could be soothing if I relaxed for a moment. "I can't feel a thing in this world." My skin pinched in on itself as he squeezed my hand. "Not physically anyway."

"Then why do you bother with this?" I asked, taking the cigarette from his hand and putting it out in the ashtray that I located on the desk.

"I have an image to keep up, now don't I?" He frowned as I put it out and reached into his pocket again for another.

He lit the new cigarette and hung it in the corner of his mouth like he only needed it to sit there.

"If you're so jealous of my body then why haven't you…." I hesitated, not wanting my fear to get the best of me as I chose my words. "…destroyed mine already?"

Nick's eyes snapped to me, aflame, his mouth tense as if I couldn't have suggested anything more offensive. "Don't be ridiculous."

He began to stand and I nearly fell out of his lap before he caught my waist and stood me up. He hurried out of the chair as if he couldn't hold still and paced around the back side of the chair.

I waited for him to answer, trying not to think about the possibility of him changing his mind.

He chuckled slightly almost startling me, "If I killed you now," he was talking to me as if I were a child that had asked why my puppy had died, his eyes dropping as if worried that I wouldn't understand, "you would still be too pure."

A sympathetic smile appeared, thinning his lips to mere toothpicks on his face. "Where's the fun in that? And it would completely defeat the purpose."

"Besides," he whispered with a wink, "the best life is in death."

A weak snicker escaped me. It was sickening because I was still trying to breathe right. "And which death would that be?"

He grinned. I wasn't sure if he was annoyed or impressed. He could have just been amused.

"The death of my spirit?" I glared, accusing. Of course what he really wanted to destroy was my immortal soul.

It was Nick's toothless smirk that I was getting accustomed to meaning I was on the right track. "Precisely."

He took the cigarette out of his mouth and put both of his arms behind his back, circulating the chair with careful steps toward me. "Besides, your clock is already on its last hour. Why would I speed up the process just to get you to the blessed eternity that's waiting?" He raised his eyebrow at me as if waiting for me to see the obviousness of it all.

"It won't work." I heard myself say, but my voice was weak.

"Don't be so sure, Angel."

"I am sure." I wanted to find my picture and leave, but I couldn't seem to move this frightening man pacing before me like a predator his footsteps barely soft patters on the floor.

"No. You haven't had a chance to live. That's your one regret."

How could he talk like he knew me?

"I could give you that, you know." His voice was soft, caressing as if he was sincere, but trying to convince me of it at the same time.

I shook my head. "We don't consider living the same way."

He barreled toward me too fast for me to react, grabbing my upper arms and shaking me, instantly making me dizzy.

"You think these twenty-two pathetic years of yours is a life?!"

Lucifer threw me into the chair, my legs slamming into the edge. He rushed forward, dropping his hands to the arms of the chair, rocking the entire thing. I groped for balance. The chair met the floor again with a thud, creating what I was sure was another of several dents in the wood. I felt his fingers around my chin and he raised my head, his face finally falling into shape inches from my own.

"You think that rotting away 60 years short of what you deserve while leaving only a few pathetic amateur paintings in a storage unit to succeed you is worth it?!"

Worth it?

My mother, before the disease that was now eating me away took her, used to tell me she had no regrets. I was her legacy, the best thing in her life along with my father, and as long as she gave me the best life she could, she was complete.

I didn't have anyone to leave behind, but that's what I had been trying to do. Even though I'd known it was coming, my mother's death was just as hard as my father's had been a year later when a drunk driver mowed him down.

I didn't want to leave anyone with that pain, but I was still selfish enough at times to not want to die alone.

With inhuman speed, Nick grabbed my wrist and inhaled its scent with a hiss.

"I really..." his teeth pricked at the skin between him and my veins "hate you."

His eyes burned at me and I held my breath.

"Why would you hate me?" I whimpered, tears falling hot on my face and he ignored them as easily as he would ignore something invisible.

"Because you fought so damn hard for this body of yours and it is broken, practically useless and you don't even care."

He turned my hand over, his fingertips icicles tracing the green hues of my veins. He had quieted, yet was still able to stare at my wrist in a way that made me wonder if he was contemplating splitting it open and letting the blood flow just to prove how unimportant my life had been.

"I didn't ask for this." I heard myself say, but I had no idea where the words were coming from. I felt my lip quiver. "And I never said I wanted it, but if He had a purpose for me I must have done it already."

Nick stared at me darkly for a long moment, as if trying to find the lie, then pushed away from the chair, rocking it again. I wiped my face dry.

"Not yet."

I was sure I'd heard it, but wasn't sure that it'd come from him. He'd fallen silent again, his back to me, his hands helplessly at his sides and though I couldn't see his face, his true, endless age suddenly shown through his timeless appearance. His back was slumped, his hair grey, and a sting of pity shot through me.

"I have a job offer for you." He began suddenly, the youth back in his body and a whole new tone to his voice, an authoritative, but excited air. "Give you something to really leave behind."

"What?" I asked, even though I was already prepared to say no.

"My club needs an upgrade." He started, striding around the room once again, tall, confident, businesslike, while I still slumped in the chair now noticing springs biting into my back.

"And I want you to design it."

Why? Why did he have to dangle on a string the one thing I was waiting for? How did he even know? The semester was over and I didn't expect to last long enough to get through another, so all I could do was work. I was just waiting for someone to give me the opportunity. Interior design seemed like the most practical thing. It wasn't every day for several hours work and I could take my time when I did have a job. The least stress and hard work the better. Doctor's orders.

"I will…pay you of course." He threw me a glance, a dare, eyebrows raised, expectant, like I was going to suggest he wouldn't.

"I just want my picture back…Nick." I swallowed a rock in my throat.

I was using all of my will power to think about nothing else than the picture. I couldn't even let myself considered the job for one second. As good of an opportunity as it sounded I knew that in the end I would severely regret it.

Nick took my hands and carefully pulled me from the chair. His arms wrapped around my back and he held me almost tenderly, a pleased and almost peaceful look on his face.

"You will get it back when you come back tomorrow and tell me you'll take the job." He said this joyfully, like a promise of a romantic dinner between a loving couple, but I could feel the threat behind it in my core.

I sighed, suddenly very tired. "I'll think about it." I said, hoping he'd just let me go home.

"Now now." He began his grip tightening until I was caged against his body once again. "Kiss me and promise you'll come back tomorrow." He bit down on my ear, just enough to make me tense and a chill ran through me causing me to quiver.

Nick held onto me, waiting. He wasn't going to let me go until I complied. I took a deep breath, and as much as it terrified and disgusted me, I leaned up and put my mouth on his.

Just like I expected, he didn't let me keep it soft and quick. His lips pushed against mine hungrily, forcing them open and breathing his hot breath into my mouth while pulling me against him.

I didn't fight, I knew I couldn't, I just waited for him to finish, letting him do all of the work.

He stopped, but left his mouth near my face, brushing it down the length of my jaw. "I'll see you tomorrow." I mumbled, then pushed my way out of his arms.

I didn't look at him as I hurried away, but I could still hear his soft chuckle as I closed the door behind me.

When I finally made it home, I painted smiling skeletons draped in red, surrounded by mountains of broken toys.

The Game

  This is a combination of Back at the Styx and Hate that I added more to for an assignment. It is the first draft, as most things are here, and will be revised. I will hopefully get the chance to revise it as well. A little more plot is provided. You will recognize phrases from A Helping Hand. I had to add these in for the purpose of the assignment. Hope you enjoy!

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I was yelling at myself internally as I found myself at The Styx yet again. It was literally the devil's keep. I didn't know why I couldn't stop myself from going into this place that I truly hated. The blacked out windows were as inviting as the mostly misspelled profanities carved out among the cracks. Colored lights flashed through the cracks like lightning. I was telling myself that it was pure curiosity as the doorman waved me in with a sinister smirk.

"Told you you'd be back, didn't I doll face?" he chuckled.

I ignored his remark then completely forgot him as the mass of bodies and throbbing music nearly knocked me off my feet as I passed from mostly clear air to choking smoke.

I followed the hanging lights along the far wall to the back and up a small set of stairs avoiding as many people as possible. I managed not to trip over tangled feet or couples thrown against the wall and tables. I wasn't able to hear the sound effects of their activities and only for that was I grateful for the volume of the music that was surely going to leave a constant buzzing in my ears for the rest of my life.

I was about to knock on the door when an arm wrapped around my waist.

"You keep coming back," Nick's lips were at my ear, "but you never quite…deliver." he hissed. I tried to ignore the chill that settled in as his fingers traced up my thighs.

Before I could escape his grasp, he was gone, opening the door to a dark room. This one room was an entire floor. It was as big as downstairs if not bigger. The entire place was high class-furnished, but the gaudy and dark kind. Besides the immediate area that I was in, the rest of the room was dark enough that I couldn't make out details of what was in it.

He strode in quickly and flopped into a once gaudy chair. It was now in near pieces, showing faded signs of what it once had been. I could almost see it in front of me, the blood red velvet with the stained black walnut arms curving to ends of dark skulls with snakes wrapping out of their open and cracked mouths. The Rebel Son lounged in his throne as he glared at me with eyes that contained every kind of blue that I could imagine. The fire they roared in hardly seemed contained by his body. He fingered one of the tears in the chair's fabric. "Why?"

I don't know. But I wasn't going to say that, so I said this instead, "Why bother dealing with me yourself? You have plenty of people that could do that for you."

I walked into the mostly dark room as he smiled, it was quick, there in a flash, but there wasn't a gleam in his eyes, especially once his grin was gone.

I'd hit my mark, but pushed back my own pride. He couldn't have anything to attach to his strings.

A stare down began his fire raging and I was putting all of my will power into it, he couldn't offer me anything I would consider for a second. I felt let down when I realized that he hadn't been participating, actually deep in thought with his hands folded under his nose. 

"Sit." He said suddenly.

I looked around, but there wasn't any other chair in the room. "On the floor?" I tried to clarify.

"NO!" the tone of his voice sounded almost like a possessed child and he grabbed me and yanked me down into his lap. "Here." His voice had changed now, seductive once again, his nose grazing my neck, but his grip wasn't kind.

I found myself fighting somewhat for breath.

"Why haven't you just killed me already?" I panted.

Nick's hand that was nearly breaking my arm was now stroking my hair a few of his own brown locks out of place, the other hand caressing my face. "That…" he began looking me over, "Would just be a waste." I was precious again.

"Waste of what?" I dared to ask.

He chuckled slightly, "If I killed you now," he was talking to me as if I were a child that had asked why my puppy had died. "you would still be too pure." His eyes were then boring into mine, something sinister slithering in their depths. "Where's the fun in that? And it would completely defeat the purpose."

"Of trying to bring me down to your level?" I glared.

It was Nick's toothless smirk that I was getting accustomed to meaning I was on the right track. "Precisely."

"It won't work." I heard myself say, but my voice was weak.

"Don't be so sure, Angel."

"I am sure." I wanted to pull away from him, but where fear should have frozen me, something else was keeping me in his lap.

"Well, then." I hadn't seen this tsunami coming as one hand wrapped around my throat and I had no oxygen. "Why are we wasting my time?"

He stood, his other arm wrapped around my waist, trapping my arms against my body, and all of me against his.

Lucifer stared at my eyes and then released me, throwing me into the chair. I coughed and began to catch my breath. My vision waved and blurred, distorting his figure, but his laugh was still the same.

"So you aren't afraid to die." He mumbled to himself.

He came forward, dropping his hands to the arms of the chair, rocking the entire thing. I groped for balance. The chair met the floor again with a thud, creating what I was sure was another of several dents in the wood. I felt his fingers around my chin and he raised my head, his face finally falling into shape inches from my own.

"I would say that isn't much fun, but you've got the right idea."

I frowned, was he saying I was brave?

"The best life is in death." He whispered.

A weak snicker escaped me. It was sickening because I was still trying to breathe right. "And which death would that be?"

He grinned. I wasn't sure if he was annoyed or impressed. He could have just been amused.

With inhuman speed he grabbed my wrist and inhaled its scent with a hiss.

"I really..." his teeth pricked at the skin between him and my veins "hate you."

His eyes burned at me and I held my breath.

"Life has dealt you a bad hand, Amy. Why aren't you itching to enjoy it while you can?" There was a gentleness to his voice, like he was offering me a warm blanket and a shoulder to cry on. He must have been acting. He wasn't capable of true compassion.

"Who said I'm not enjoying my life?"

He turned my hand over, his fingertips icicles tracing the green hues of my veins.

"You aren't yet, but see, I do come in handy. I've started this little game for us."

I yanked my hand away just as he started to bring it to his mouth again and folded them tightly over my chest, suddenly feeling as violated as when he so forcefully kissed me before.

"What game?" I asked, trying not to sound panicked, my voice giving me away as it squeaked.

"I have something of yours, which was why you were so compelled to come here other than to ravish my tantalizing self of course." Nick moved away from me and toward the desk, picking up a silver picture frame.

My heart stopped for a moment. He waved the last photograph my parents had taken of the three of us in front of me.

There was no question of how he'd gotten it. There was no telling how long he'd been in my apartment before I'd gotten home after fleeing this very place. How had I not noticed it missing?

"Now I'll trade you for it. Unless you don't want it back of course."

I sat up. "What do you want?" I was hostile, his slimy hands had no right to touch that.

"Oh you know perfectly well what I want angel, but don't go giving it to me too quickly, that'd be boring."

He chuckled and when I didn't comply, he sighed softly, a pleased sound, a smile dancing on his lips.

"Do I have to spell it out for you? Your shirt would do nicely for now."

I made like a rock. "That's no game. I should take something of yours."

"Huh." He said, casting his eyes toward the ceiling. "That is interesting." His eyes flared when they turned back to me. "Alright, you can take anything you want."

I auctioned what I could see of the room, which was darkness other than the desk. I considered the chair I was sitting in, but there was no way it could be salvaged. I had been trying to avoid looking at him, but he was the only other object in the room. He had nothing on him. Jeans, tennis shoes, a black t-shirt with a silver chain disappearing beneath it. I found myself standing and walking toward him, dragged on like a dog on a leash. I fingered the chain and he watched me with a confident smile, but his eyes were guarded.

I pulled the chain out and instead of finding some satanic symbol at the end, held a fragile, cracking, wooden cross in my hand. It was faded to a near white shade a sure sign of real age and I feared it disappearing to dust in my hands.

"I carved that from the thing itself." He said quietly, a near reverence if it hadn't been for the arrogance in his tone.

"Wouldn't that hurt you?" I found myself whispering, still in awe of this priceless object in my hand.

"It was risky to make it, sure, but any powerful qualities of my brother have been sealed away."

I stared at its simplicity, just the familiar shape, nothing intricate.

"I know you're wondering why I would have something like this." He wrapped his hand around mine, closing it in my fist and squeezing until I cringed, its splintered ends biting into my hand. "Because that moment of my damned brother bleeding nearly to death is something I never want to forget."

I felt its weight on my shoulders and nearly lost my footing when he released my hand, but he wrapped his arm around my waist and held me against him, a dare in his expression.

I let the cross fall back against his chest, and rubbed were it had pierced my skin, shocked that I didn't feel hot blood against my fingers.

"I don't want it." I mumbled. "I don't want anything you have to offer."

"Hmm. That's a shame." His lips were at my ear as he made no effort to be discrete about rubbing his hips against mine, before suddenly releasing me.

He handed the picture frame out to me.

"Well, we'll play again soon." He kissed my mouth, a passing leaf before turning and going down the stairs.

I clutched the frame to my chest and walked out the same way he had, but my steps were heavy, weights around my ankles, but didn't even whisper and though I wished I'd never meet him again, I knew he was right and this game wasn't over.

Grace

<--Previous Related Post

Okay...First Warning: This IS my first draft of what would basically be the end of The Devil Has Blue Eyes. Second Warning: There is ONE instance of harsh language. Again, let me remind you that this is the devil...and he is a naughty boy and I can't argue with him. ;) Third Warning: Something is subtly implied and I apologize if I offend anyone! Also, I couldn't ignore this when it came to me and as promised I am posting things as soon as I write them. The Devil Has Blue Eyes was originally meant to be a part of the Sight world as an addition to Nick's character, but it has turned into a set up for Sight. You more than likely won't understand how from this, but that's just fine. ;) You're meant to be left guessing. The answer wouldn't be revealed until Sight. So that's that. No complaining. XP 

Enjoy! Playlist

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I couldn't let this go on anymore.

I ran up to the two of them, pulling the father away from Nick.

"Leave me be child!" he protested.

I didn't stop or comment.

"He has gained control of your mind!" he turned on me now. Putting his hands around my neck.

"Free this child from…" he began to chant. I just looked at him. It did nothing to me as it had done to Nick.

The father stopped mid sentence and stared at me, there was some realization in his eyes. He knew there was nothing wrong with me.

Without a word, the father dropped his hands, then ran out of sight.

I turned to Nick panting on the ground, seething profanities through his teeth when he could.

The closer I got the more blood seemed to appear everywhere. Nick was covered in it, but especially on his chest.

He was trying to stand and I bent down, reaching out to help him.

He swatted my hand away with enough force to send me reeling back a few steps. He managed to get on his feet, but a second later stumbled, falling toward the ground again. I managed to catch him and he fell against me, his eyes rolling to the back of his head.

"Don't fight me." I whispered.

My apartment was much closer than The Styx was from here, so that's where I took him.

It was late enough that no one was in the lobby, though it was odd that Stan wasn't either. A moan escaped Nick's lips and I hurried to the elevator.

Once in the apartment I knew that I couldn't adequately attend him on the couch. I drug him to the bedroom, finally feeling the weight of him after all this time.

After a few minutes, Nick was on his back, his destroyed shirt was gone and his chest was just as shredded. It was only now that I realized I had no idea how to help him.

His breath was becoming shallower, the color draining from his face, and the blood didn't stop.

He was dying. Somehow I knew it even though it didn't make sense. He had no body to injure, to die in, yet I was still struck with fear for his life.

I…didn't want him to die. The thought of him ceasing to exist was almost unfathomable. I wasn't sure if the world would be thrown into chaos, its balance lost, or if peace would reign, but that didn't seem to matter.

With no other clear choice in front of me, I fell to my knees. My head hit the mattress my hands clasped together and I began to pray.

No matter how much I prayed, there was something more to say, something else poured out of my mouth nearly silently as I pleaded with God for his Forsaken Son's life.

"You…You are…a pitiful…sight…to behold." I looked up to see Nick his head turned toward me kneeling next to him. His eyes burning.

Nick's voice had sounded strange, I guessed he'd had some damage to his lungs.

He continued to wheeze. "What the fuck did you think…praying for me was going to do, huh?"

I stood, ignoring him, and went to the closet in the hall, grabbing a few soft towels.

I set them on the bed as he sat himself up. "You really aren't as smart as you look." He called me some name in Spanish that I didn't understand, his voice clearer now.

I went to the kitchen and got a large bowl and filled it with warm water as he yelled from the room, "He would never help me. Oh no, I'm not the favorite."

I carried the bowl back to the room and set it on the floor. I put my hands on his shoulders, trying to get him on his back once again.

"Stop!" he fused. "What the hell are you doing? You're only going to make it worse!"

I put my hand over his mouth, looking him in the eyes. "Nick, shut up and lay down."

His expression fell, the anger gone, shock in his place, and then he obeyed.

"Thank you." I said, kneeling again.

I took the towels and put them in the warm water, then I put them to his chest, wiping off the blood as gently as I could.

He hissed, but didn't complain.

A few minutes later he spoke up again. "Why are you helping me?" he wasn't angry or accusing, but humbly curious. I stared at him a moment almost not recognizing his voice, never having heard it used that way.

Nick's eyes were bright and swimming with something I hadn't seen before. I looked away quickly.

"I don't think He'd damn me for showing a bit of kindness, even to you." I answered.

"You'd be surprised." He muttered, laying his head back, closing his eyes, a look of sadness on his face. "It won't do any good, anyway."

"You aren't going to die." I said sternly.

"If He wants me dead, which I know He does, I will be one way or another."

I shook my head, the pity building inside. "No matter what you've done, I doubt he wants to kill you."

Despite his state, his hand flashed out and grabbed my wrist harshly. "You don't get it, you stupid girl! I AM the evil in this world. I AM sin!"

He released my arm and sat back again. "And that…" he looked away solemnly, "is unforgivable."

"You're wrong." I said quietly.

Nick laughed. It was harsh and stinging, but I continued.

"You are angry, jealous, and just plain spiteful."

He was about to interrupt when I spoke over him, my voice rising.

"You're just angry because daddy didn't like your idea! Which wasn't the best idea, but I believe your intentions were good. At least at first."

I squeezed the towel in my hands and the bloodied water seeped through my fingers.

"But you just-had to throw a tantrum and mess up everything."

I looked up at him, he seemed shocked though his eyes were frowning. "But if you would just let go of these thousands of years of pent up anger, you could-"

I was stopped by Nick's hand over my mouth. He sat up slowly, putting his arm around my waist and searching my eyes.

"Shut-up." He whispered, then moved his hand to the side of my face and brought my lips to his.

It was quick, barely more than a peck, soft and hardly there. Yet it was still more there than his harshest kiss. He pulled back and hesitated, waiting for me to respond, to give permission.

I was frozen in place, not sure what to do or what I was feeling. Nick took my hand and put it to his chest and a heart beat under my hand beneath warm skin.

I looked to see that the blood was gone as was the wound, all that remained was a shining scar.

"Thank you."

I almost didn't hear it and I wasn't sure he had intended me to.

I brought my face back up with his though I couldn't bring myself to look anywhere other than his lips.

"You're welcome." I whispered, then with a breath I kissed him back.

It was timid at first, but slowly built as did the fire inside me. He was real in my hands, his fingers hot against my skin and I knew I was giving in, but it seemed right.

 

The next morning came as I knew it would. My apartment was cold and I was alone.

Nick was gone. The game was over and he had won.

Still, I didn't regret what I had done.

 

I walked into the church, it was nearly evening, the perfect hour with the sun pouring into the North-Eastern windows creating soft cascading pillars of light glowing about the pews. I sighed and breathed it all in.

"Miss Grace!"

Father Eric came swiftly toward me. "What are you doing? Sit down." He helped me into a pew and sat next to me. "You weren't here at your usual time, I thought you were not feeling well enough to come."

"Oh no." I said. "I had a doctor's appointment this morning."

"Oh, that's all?" the father smiled softly at me. "How's the baby?"

"Fine." I answered, automatically rubbing my stomach. "Three more months to go."

"That's wonderful."

 

Nick would never know it, but I was happy. I carried no guilt and I did not despise him for causing me to fall. Though, maybe I had not fallen at all. Something about it had felt like the right decision. Regardless, sometimes the good must lose before it can win.

Power

<--Previous Post 

This is a warning. This scene is a bit intense and frightening. Keep in mind that this is a story about the devil trying to get a girl to make a mistake. It is not what some would call X-rated, but it has the potential to possibly offend someone. Playlist

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I stumbled backwards, crashing into the kitchen.

"You can't touch me!" I gasped, I didn't sound like I believed it.

Nick's laugh echoed throughout the room as though it were a cavern. I felt the tears threatening in my eyes, the fear taking over every thought.

"You have no idea exactly how much I can touch you, Amy." His voice faded out of the echo. "You owe me. You cannot fight me, and you know it."

He took another step toward me and I scrambled to the other end of the table pulling a chair in between us. I didn't know what good it would do, but it seemed like a good idea.

No, Nick was much too strong. I knew it had been worthless, even before he threw the chair aside, it shattering into pieces against the wall.

"Come to bed with me Amy. You want to." His eyes were on fire and his scent seemed to be suffocating me even from this distance. It was thick and husky, everything I would have wanted, but what pulled me away from it was that mask of safety thrown around it, but I knew otherwise.

"No." I whimpered.

I was in the middle of shaking my head when his arm was suddenly around my waist. "Oh, Amy." He kissed my mouth gently. "I won't hurt you." His lips were on mine again, full and powerful. My mouth opened with his against my will, his tongue twirling around mine and I tasted the lie.

I bit down as hard as I could and to my surprise he pulled away with a holler.

I moved quickly away from him and kept going out of the kitchen and down the hall.

"AMY!" he yelled after me. "That HURT!"

I was nearly to my room when I was yanked back. Nick lifted me, wrapping my legs around his hips and then slamming me into the wall hard enough to knock the wind out of me. My head collided with a thick picture frame and I couldn't scream and the pain coursed through my body.

My eyes had blacked out so I couldn't see clearly, but I could feel it as Nick tore off my shirt, his lips exploring my face, his hand in my hair, smearing the warm blood onto my neck. My chest heaved against him as he then went down my neck, slowly but surely making his way toward my collarbone and chest, making throaty moaning sounds as he went.

"Put-me…down." I managed to breathe.

The second the last syllable left my mouth, my feet were on the floor again. I still couldn't see well enough, but I knew Nick was still close. I shoved past him and managed to find my room closing the door behind me.

I collapsed against it, gaining my breath.

A moment later the door handle rattled.

"Amy." Nick's coaxing, intoxicating voice was back. "Let me in."

I shook my head. "No." my voice was thick.

"Come on, Angel." I could tell he was quickly losing his patience. "Just give in. You'll feel better once you do."

"Never!"

The door started to shake. "Damn it, Amy! LET-ME-IN!!"

"GET-OUT!!" I screamed, feeling my throat tear to shreds as I did.

I started to catch my breath again when I realized that the door was still and there was silence on the other side.

I couldn't say how, but I knew that Nick was gone. My words had forced him to leave. He couldn't do anything to me unless I let him and I didn't. He left because I told him to. I had power over him.

The tears finally broke through and I sunk to the floor against my door, letting all of the fear and pain pour out of me. 

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Safe Haven

This immediately follows A Helping Hand. If you haven't read it first, do so!( Go here for this story's Playlist!)

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I crashed into the taxi the second it drove up. I slammed the door shut and was breathing heavily.

The driver had already begun to drive away almost as fast as I had wanted him to, if not faster. "You alright?" He used a kind voice peering at me in the rearview mirror.

"I'm-" I started, but my thought was interrupted by a sudden chill that shook my whole body. I moaned slightly and wrapped my arms around myself, feeling the goose bumps covering my cold skin.

"You seem like a very nice girl, so I don't know what business you have in there, but it's good that you called. We'll be far from there in a minute."

"Thank you." I sighed as the shivering became less violent and I gave him my address.

I continued to shake steadily the rest of the way home, the driver didn't comment, but checked on me every once in a while.

I couldn't get it out of my head. The devil, Satan, the epitome of evil had kissed me! And I was sure he had wanted, and was capable of, much more. It had been so strange how it felt, more like a daydream, or a wish, than a physical sensation. But it had been no wish of mine.

I rubbed my eyes. I just needed to forget about it. I wouldn't be seeing him again and I needed rest.

We got to my apartment complex and before I even thought of anything, the driver spoke up.

"Missy, don't even think about paying me." He held his hand out to the back, a card in it. "This is my card and it has my personal line on it. You call me whenever you need me, okay? Free of charge."

I took the card gingerly, touched by his kindness. "Are you sure?"

"Hey, don't give me the chance to change my mind." He warned sternly.

"Alright!" I started to hurry out of the car.

"Oh!" He stuck his head out the window. "I'm Frank."

I smiled. "Thanks again, Frank. I'm Amy Grace."

"Well, Miss Amy Grace. Take care of yourself." Frank's round tough-skinned face stretched into a genuine smile.

"You too." I called, finally hurrying into the lobby.

The door swung to a close, cutting out the wind.

"Miss Grace!" Stan, the lobby man, called to me from behind the desk. "There you are! It's so late, I was starting to worry! Are you alright?"

"I'm alright Stan. I just fell asleep on the bus and missed my stop." I continued to walk toward the elevator.

"Oh. Well it's good that you got back okay." He sounded timid.

"Yeah. I'm going to bed so it doesn't happen again." I barely grinned, I was suddenly too tired.

I pressed the button for my floor just before a yawn escaped.

"Alright, have a good one, Miss Grace." Stan called as the doors closed.

I never understood why he was so formal with me. It was a side note thought, something I only bothered to notice after speaking with him, but right now it seemed especially strange, suspicious almost.

No, it was what had happened making me wary. I really needed to go to sleep.

The elevator opened to my floor and I walked as quietly as I could past the few doors before mine, and then I reached for my keys…in an invisible bag. I hadn't taken one to school today since I'd only needed a pencil. So I'd had my wallet and keys in my coat…that I was no longer wearing.

I realized in horror that it was still on the floor of The Styx where Nick had taken it off of me. With clarity, I remembered locking it this morning, but I still tried the door, not wanting to have to go back downstairs to Stan.

The door opened under my hand.

I went into the dark apartment and gently shut the door behind me. I knew that this complex wasn't one for crime, but the odds that someone had entered my apartment without criminal intent were very low.

Why I still entered my apartment knowing this? I couldn't say, but it somehow still felt safe.

I reached to flip on the light.

"Amy Grace, huh?"

I nearly jumped out of my skin and threw the light on. Nick was lounging on my sofa, shirtless, beer in his hand, my coat across his lap. He was studying my license in the light, then tossed it, along with the rest of the contents of my wallet, onto the floor.

"The Beloved Grace. It's very fitting for you actually."

I wondered how he'd gotten here so fast, but I didn't need to ask how he'd gotten in. To confirm it, Nick dangled my keys in front of him.

"Was kissing me so bad that you forgot your coat and everything in it, Beloved?"

I glared at him, "I didn't kiss you."

He frowned for a split second, it was so fast that I'd almost missed it, though the anger remained in his eyes. "That's right. You didn't." His smile widened. "But you wanted to." He said with confidence.

"No, I hadn't." I corrected.

"Yes you did." His tone of voice sounded so immature, like a teenager. I had to bite my tongue to stop myself from retorting in the same tone.

"And you will." He turned his head and took a drink.

"No-"

He interrupted me. "If you want your coat back, that is."

I gaped then regained myself and grimaced instead.

Nick watched me a moment as I stood my ground. He sighed then stood.

"I knew you were stubborn." He mumbled.

I watched him carefully as my coat fell to the floor and he walked toward me.

I didn't even see it, but Nick reached out and grabbed hold of my face, too close again, and tilting my head so that I was looking him right in the eyes. I didn't flinch, my defiance clear in my stare.

Nick sighed again and licked his lips.

"Alright. I won't collect tonight." He released me and began to walk away.

I turned to make sure he was leaving. His hand paused on the door. "You will come to me eventually Missy Gracey." He winked. "They all do."

The door opened with a squeak. "Oh." He turned back around, fishing my wallet out of his back pocket. "Thanks for the beer." He tossed it at me and before I could catch it, my door closed and he was gone.

I couldn't help myself; I immediately began cleaning up the mess he'd made.

My pulse was racing and I felt something unclenching in my stomach that I didn't know was clenched in the first place.

As much as I'd tried not to look at his bare chest, I'd had. And when he had been so close I'd wanted to know if it'd felt as defined as it had looked and if he would still feel like a dream.

But I had been stronger than him and I would be again.

Something was telling me that I would see him again; I prayed that I wouldn't, but it seemed inevitable. I knew that he was determined to "collect."

I couldn't sleep that night, scared of the possible nightmares that Nick would inhabit. I tried not to think of what my payment would be or of the consequences the choice of repaying him or not repaying him would entail. 

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