DEVILS ? C. G. 〖 #wattys2018 〗

SOTC: Clear — twenty øne piløts
• I'm the son of all I've done •

The air, it was cold, cloying, and deafening. Bird chirps rattled the trees. Cricket song and walker growls joined the chorus, and the forest swelled to an incredible size, trees' arms casting shadows across the forest floor.

All the noise, and yet Carl could hear the trunk door shut, like a gunshot cracking.

He turned, and he saw her.

The wind kicked her hair over her face. Her green eyes, and her green cargo jacket, and the natural, chapped quality of her lips, set into a blasé frown.

And the anatomy of her fingers, curled, stark against the handle of a pistol.

And Carl, no, he wasn't worried. He was so tired of this bullshit. Just wanted it over, more than anything.

April stopped about a foot away from him. He could see the bags under her eyes, the imperfections in her skin. She stared at him, bored holes in his iris.

If this was the end, it would be a quiet one.

"Good," she said.

Carl blinked. "April, if you're going to kill me—"

"No, I'm not going to kill you." Her eyes rolled playfully. "At least, not today," she added.

"Then what's the gun for?"

She looked down at it, laughed to herself. "You passed test numero uno. You're not scared of guns, and you're not dumb enough to run away from me unarmed."

"Test?" Carl's eyebrows drew together. He was a little taller than April, but he still felt her glare, almost condescending, piercing into his skin.

"Yeah, man. Test. I want you to prove something to me."

Then, in one simple movement, she shifted her grip to the barrel of the gun.

"Take it. It's loaded. Full mag."

Carl felt his stomach invert and flip inside out. He gingerly took the pistol, carefully, gaze still glued to hers. It was heavy in his palm. Warm, from April's hands.

"Here's the test. You have four options.

"Option one, shoot me. Two, shoot yourself."

"What—"

"Shh," she interrupted, not breaking her stature. "Three, you can run. I won't chase after you. You could leave the gun, you could take the car, you could take me. But if you don't take me, I won't cover for you."

"Why wouldn't I—"

"—And, four." She blinked. "You can give me the gun. You can turn your back to me, and walk to the car. And you can trust me."

Carl scoffed, and let his stare wander to the distance. "You have got to be kidding."

"No, Carl, I'm not."

He turned back to her. And he could see it, the nervous twitch of her cheek. She thought he wouldn't shoot her, but as the moments dragged on, April was growing anxious.

"The test is simple. What would you do if you had a gun, and the only other person you were with was someone you despised, and they were unarmed? Where do your priorities lie?"

"How do I know you're not lying?"

"I'm putting myself in legitimate danger. I don't know what you're going to do. And I don't know if I'm going to exit this forest unscathed. But more important than me is you. Your hatred, your heart, and your head, and which wins out in the end."