Demons aren’t paranormal beings; they’re self-centered, cruel human beings.
I take a deep breath and focus on the expansion of my chest in the mirror.My nipple piercings—simple silver bars with a ball on each end—and the three dermal piercings along my sternum gleam in the light.I lift my arms and prop my hands on top of my head before twisting and studying the scars covering my body.Cigarette burns, whip marks, gouges from rings, and a few thin white lines from blades pepper my torso and upper thighs.My bullies usually avoided my face and extremities, but a thick, jagged scar circles my right wrist.With my watch on the counter, the ugly bracelet of once torn flesh stands as a stark reminder of the worst days of my life.
I sigh and drop my arms to my sides.
After the chaos of yesterday, the vague soreness from my last piercing isn’t enough.It’s only been a month, but the incessant itching from my burn scars and the upheaval from my reunion with Sebastian make me feel too out of control.
I turn away from the mirror without checking the new addition.Nestled underneath my first labia piercing, I barely felt it beyond the initial burn of the needle going through flesh.My hands shook from adrenaline, but I was a tad disappointed when the soreness faded about a week later.It healed without issue and is pretty from an aesthetic standpoint, but not painful enough to mask the horror in my heart.
I pat dry with a towel and brush my hair before wrapping my towel around my head and opening the door to my room.After dressing in clean clothes, I check my messages and subconsciously fiddle with my lip ring as I consider replying to my roommate’s apologies.
He only sent me three short texts even though I know he worried all night long and probably wrote and deleted dozens of others.I commend him for his self-control and decide to save my response for when I speak to him face-to-face.
I back out of the chat and pause at the unexpected name beside the next notification.With trepidation shortening my breaths, I tap on the chat box beside Hilary’s contact information.
Sorry I was late yesterday.See you this afternoon?
Puzzled by her words but slightly panicked when my phone confirms she opened our chat and saw the message received icon, I type out a quick response and hit send.
Of course!
I exit the app and turn off my screen.
After a deep breath, I turn to the bathroom, but stop mid-step when my phone buzzes with jarring intensity.Half a second later, my computer plays an ugly sound.I dart across the room, push my rolling chair out of the way, and dive onto my computer.In less than three seconds, I open my email inbox and the specialized tracking program I designed.
The email reads the same as the last eight.Someone wants me dead.
I’d ignore it like all the others, since no one who sends me death threats through my secret accounts knows my actual information, but this came from within a five mile radius of my apartment.In some ways, the distance seems scarily close, but with the population of New York City being so dense, there are too many possibilities to panic.
I use the virus I snuck into my automatic email response and root around behind the scenes for a few minutes before my phone alarm rings.I close everything out and pull a soda out of my mini fridge to celebrate.
Step one complete.I have full access to the bastard’s laptop, but too much activity while he’s on right now will alert him, so I’ll jump back in later tonight and play around.
I twist open my soda bottle and enjoy the sting as I chug half the contents.With a small win under my belt, I return to the bathroom and finish the rest of my soda as I towel dry and brush my hair again.
I hang my towel and tidy the bathroom before sitting in my desk chair.After putting on socks and eating a granola bar from my snack cabinet to counteract the caffeine in the soda, I toss the wrapper in the trash can and roll my chair into its place.I shrug into my coat and slip my phone into my pocket before slipping my purse onto my shoulder and facing the door.
After a deep breath and counting to three, I remove the towel from under my door, roll and return it to its shelf, and unlock my door.
Peter sits at the table with a cup of coffee in front of him, but no steam rises from the mug.
“I’ll never bring him here again.I’m so sorry.He told me he was gay, not bi.I swear I’ll vet the next one better.I—”
“Peter, stop.You couldn’t’ve known.It’s not your fault, but I forgive you.And yes, be pickier next time,” I interrupt.
His tremulous smile breaks my heart.I shake my head and say, “Don’t aim those puppy-dog eyes at me.You’ll find the right guy, just maybe not in the places you’ve been looking.But really, I’m fine.We’re fine.”
A lie followed by the truth.I haven’t been fine in fifteen years, but it would take a lot worse to erode my relationship with Peter.
“I’d be lost without you, Pen,” he says.
“I know.The world would be a sad, sad place without Pen and Peter,” I deflect.
He nods so emphatically a snort-laugh escapes me.His relieved smile erases the tension in my shoulders.
“Where are you headed this morning?Another random certification class?”he asks.
I roll my eyes.
