DEVILS ? C. G. 〖 #wattys2018 〗

- - - - - - - - - -

P A R T   F O U R :
N O X I O U S

- - - - - - - - - -

"Would he have time for a speech? As the Hound seized him, in view of ten or twenty or thirty million people, mightn't he sum up his entire life in the last week in one single phrase or a word that would stay with them long after the Hound had turned, clenching him in its metal-plier jaws, and trotted off in darkness, while the camera remained stationary, watching the creature dwindle in the distance— a splendid fade-out! What could he say in a single word, a few words, that would sear all their faces and wake them up?"

- - - - - - - - - -

When You Were Young — The Killers
• Sometimes you close your eyes / And see the place where you used to live •

For a second she entertained the thought that nothing had happened.

There was so much silence. She could not move. Just watch the fire dance forth, a crying lover. April extended her hand forward, and she could almost pretend that she was conjuring it herself.

Then the lights cut out.

And the blaze in front of her, it grew neon against the dark. Lighting her face, watching as the edges of her smile spread apart until her teeth were in a full leering crescent. Something entered April's eyes. maybe it was the fire, or maybe it was something else entirely.

She spent the next half hour racing from hall to hall, warning people, trying to get them awake and to safety. She didn't want any working-class Saviors to die, they had nothing to do with this. That would contradict the entire point. One truth kept her pounding away.

Destroying the Sanctuary would maim her father's forces. A maimed army, she knew, never wins the war.

She drew as many people out as possible. Starting with the worker sectors and going into that of the higher-ups. It required a bit of acting. She made her expression gaunt and frightened, and her voice shrill as a war siren. It was all to get people up and away from danger, the encroaching growth of the fire as it spread down from power lines to lower levels. Over time, the thundering flood of people drifted to a crawl, the screams to a whisper. The Sanctuary was nearly a dark, empty shell.

That left only the prison.

Smoke was choking the higher levels, so she raced down. It couldn't have been thirty minutes since the fire first started, but the building felt so eerie, with its dead bulbs and cloying blackness. It felt more abandoned and rotting than the bustling metropolis it had been for the past decade. There was not a soul, but there was a whole lot more smoke. Her eyes were stinging. She ran the halls by memory.

Although reality was just beginning to sink in, she could barely contain her excitement.

April grasped at the memories, trying to remember. She never forgot his face. It had been a month but the dark pit of his socket still remained in her dreams, like a scorch mark. Neither did she forget his hands, or the scars across his chest.

There was a bright rose in his abdomen. Outward spiraled the mementos of blocked trauma, including a gash nearly deep enough to see his ribs. Skin ashy, warm as she traced his rosy scars, warm as she kissed them better.

April was running towards him. She could almost feel him drawing nearer. She hadn't prayed in years, but she could almost pray now. Carl was safe and unhurt, and he awaited her right where she thought he would be.

April knew she was wrong when she rounded the corner, and all the prison vaults had been unlocked.

They hung open like gaping black maws. Her flashlight revealed dirt tracks pacing in and out of each one.

Immediately a pungent odor met her. Like sewer shit. Stomach bile. A gasp raked up from her lungs, and she leaned over to retch, but nothing came up.

And as she pointed the light down the hallway, catching on the smoke that pooled out in front of her, she felt something plummet in her chest.

If Carl wasn't here, he was a question mark. She didn't even know if he was alive, and now he could be anywhere.

Before her thoughts could continue, before she could turn around and scramble to safety, there was a murmur.

So faint it could have just been the building groaning. But April paused, listened.

It came again, a haunting whimper, a whine, one a wounded dog might make.

April gripped the flashlight in her shaky hands. She found one step after the other, slowly approaching the source of the sound. All images of safety were gone now; she was terrified. The whimpers soon discerned into an unintelligible warble of voice—a girl's voice, she decided.

She turned into an open cell, and she saw it.

The hunched-over figure of a tiny girl, swallowed by a uniform prison sweatshirt. An orange 'F' was spraypainted on the front. Her head was covered in uneven black stubble, skin the color of rusted copper. Scabs peppered over her arms, which draped over her legs, thin as pins. There was a puddle of lumpy brown vomit all around her, over her legs, on her fingers.

She looked at April with the saddest, most traumatized expression that April had seen in her life.

It took a moment for recognition to strike.

This girl was Elle. And the 'F' on her uniform, it stood for "fag."

x x x x x x x x x x

A/N: did you like the chapter? sorry if it sucks, all of my writing juices have been siphoned off by cw class

anyway sorry i'm a terrible human being and left you waiting for a full month, i'm a loser ik

ily all, please stay safe, i'll try to be back as soon as possible <3

x x x x x x x x x x

NEXT CHAPTER:
lmao. soon ig

OFFICIAL SPOTIFY TRACKLIST:
goo.gl/9QBvfW

OFFICIAL TWITTER PAGE:
@bombsh3llwrites

x x x x x x x x x x

Word Count: 1063
Created 2-27-18