DEVILS ? C. G. 〖 #wattys2018 〗

SOTC: Brazil — Declan Mckenna
• I'm the face of God, I'm my father's son •

The darkness was stained red. A shaft of moonlight bled from a small window beside her nightstand. Otherwise, the whites around a blinding yellow yolk of light.

She stared as the flame danced around its candle wick. Flicking, shuddering as she breathed out. At a blink, she saw green, she saw neons of orange climbing up arms, she saw anguish—

She saw melting wax down the side of the candle. A bead of sweat on her forehead. She touched the mouth of the bottle to her lips, felt liquid singe the lining of her throat, slammed it back down onto the table.

There was a knock. Her head fell unconsciously sideways, gazing there, unwilling to leave her position. She witnessed a sudden piece of paper slide from under the door.

Knitting her eyebrows, she stumbled closer, thoughts foggy in the darkness. Don't trust them. She clumsily retrieved the note, staggered back to her seat, uncrumpled the writing until it was legible in the low candlelight.

stairwell
thirty minutes

She stared at the clumsy blots of ink for moments, mind hazed. She ran a hand through her wily hair. Stared upwards, at the low ceiling, the crack running like a river through the center. Took another gulp from the bottle.

They're trying to get me. Her heart leapt into her throat. Images flew to the surface: her father's smug grin, the smell of coffee, a machine gun. Better than this shit. My fuckin daughter. Slums.

Her breaths, sucked out of her. She touched the paper to the flames, and it took, orange silk dancing wordlessly along the paper. Nobody could know of this. Nobody.

There was something leaking from her eyes, she only noticed now. Her hands reached deftly up to swipe away the shards of glass. They raked across her cheeks like garden furrows.

Something lodged in her throat, cough, spit onto the rug. Gray liquid smeared across her fingers.

She was glad it was dark. It allowed her to remain unanchored. She could float, this way. She held the bottle by the neck, leaned back onto the bed.

She didn't hear the first knock, or the second. It was a kick at the door that finally struck her attention, allowed her to make her way to the door in her stupor. She couldn't feel her fingertips as she gripped the doorknob, twisted, released backwards.

The door hit her toe. "Fuck," she hissed, bending down to reach it, skin sweating. "You better have a good fuckin excuse for fuckin buggin me..."

"April." She absorbed the voice rather than heard it. Deep. Too deep for Carl... she looked up and saw his blond hair, frowned.

"Who are you," she slurred.

"Goddamn," He swore, looking up and down the hallway. "I'm Dwight."

"Oh."

Dwight, exasperated, gripped her by the shoulders. "April. You have to listen to me."

"I... yeah. Yeah."

"Okay. I don't have much time. But I'm planning something. I know how much you want out. I know it. I want you to help—"

April pulled his hand off her shoulder, head hanging loosely. She murmured something, trying to pry off the other hand. "I don' wan..."

"Listen to me!"

She finally looked forward, at Dwight, her eyes bleary. She noticed his eyes, an ugly blue that looked like veins under skin. She hated dark clouds. She wanted to sleep.

She looked at him, swallowed laboriously. "I wanna burn this fuckin place."

He furrowed his brows. "You wha—?"

"Burn this fuck... I hate this fuckin place..." She wiped her nose, sniffled loudly. "I... wanna burn this... this shit."

"You're too drunk right now, kid. I'll come back in a couple days."

"Give me some proof... "

Dwight's gaze intensified. "Prove that I want to help you?"

"Yea."

He exhaled, looking down the hallway. Then turned back. "I'll get your proof."

He nodded. Searched for confirmation in her face. She only shrugged away, releasing his hands from her shoulders. "I wanna see Carl."

"I can't do that."

"I wa—"

"No, I..."

"I miss him so fuckin much." This monstrous, statuesque girl dissolved into a blubbering mess, wet sobs dredging up through her entire body. "I can't fuckin do... I can't..."

He rolled his eyes exasperatedly. "Okay. Okay. I'll get you the next best thing."

April looked up. Her mascara and eyeliner was smeared across her skin.

"I'll come back to you soon, okay? I'll have something for you. Something from Carl."

She breathed. "Y... You're shittin me."

"No. I promise I'm not shitting you. You'll see for yourself."

She stared. Looked at him up and down. Dwight was shitting her, he had to be. Don't trust them. She wanted to believe it. She fucking wanted him. She wanted him so, so badly.

After a long time, she let her head hang, wiped her face off with the bad of her hand. Turned around and shut the door.

She needed more of the hard stuff. She'd had two bottles of Jack Daniels already. Maybe the third would kill her before tomorrow. It was wishful thinking.

She passed out on the bed and drooled across her bottom lip, thoughtless, undeveloped photograph.

She dreamt of nothing. Absolutely nothing. The stink of her breath sharp as bleach.

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A/N: This chapter was such shit oh my fucking lord. But I don't have time to rewrite it. uughhh

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Word Count: 950
Created 11-5-17