I drifted, in and out of consciousness, barely aware of a pillow under my head and a heavy comforter wrapped around me.
Wait.
I fucking rolled my truck.
My eyes shot open; I sat up and whipped the heavy blanket off, revealing my naked body in all its glory; everything was right where it should have been, not even a scrape. It hit me a second before I got my breathing under control.
My scars were gone.
The ugly cords of scar tissue that marred my stomach and legs, evidence of the surgery that had saved my life, vanished, gone like they never existed in the first place. Tears welled up in my eyes; I'd always felt so ugly; guys were supposed to suck it up, but the only woman who'd seen those scars outside of my marriage had recoiled, disgust evident in her eyes; needless to say, it cut the night short.
I cried that night, harder than I had when I got my diagnosis.
My first thought was that I was dead; there was no other explanation for this. I was in limbo or some shit.
The rest of the night came roaring back, and the room spun a little, the incredibly beautiful room; I blinked to clear my vision. I'd been tucked into a massive canopy bed; the wood posts looked to be mahogany, and like everything else in this place, incredibly expensive. Sunlight streamed in through the windows, dampened by the thick curtains.
Well, she is the fucking Devil, so...No, that's horseshit, the Devil isn't real.
Well, then, how do you explain your scars being gone? All your injuries from the crash healed? Something's sideways, bud.
Time to find out what.
I kept scanning the room, my eyes landing on a high backed chair at the foot of the bed, expensive-looking clothes draped over it.
I can take a hint.
I rolled out of bed, amazed at how good I felt. Physically, I'd been on the back foot since the surgeries, always tired, et cetera. This feeling of barely contained energy thrumming in every muscle reminded me of being eighteen. I padded to the chair, brushing a hand over the arranged outfit; a pair of black dress pants and a dark blue linen henley, socks and boxers to match, a pair of black dress shoes sat next to the chair.
The feel of the material as I slipped everything on confirmed my suspicions, expensive as hell. I caught my reflection in a floor-length mirror against the wall; I looked pretty damn good, every item perfectly fitted, one more question to add to the pile.
Unless she's actually the Devil.
The thought made my head hurt, so I buried it and walked to the door, jumping a little when it swung open, revealing my hostess wearing a green sundress and carrying a tray brimming with eggs and bacon. Our eyes met, and she nearly fumbled it.
Not very Satanic of you, bro.
I reached out and helped her steady it, our fingers brushed together gently, and she gasped, making a big show of looking at the wall. I took the tray and set it on the bed, leaving her standing there for a moment, trying to come up with what in the hell I was going to say when I turned around.
Fuck it.
I turned and met her gaze once more, "Are you really the Devil?"
Her hands were tugging at her clothes nervously, red eyes darting around the room, "Yes, I am."
"That why I rolled my truck and don't have a scratch on me?"
A nod.
"That's why my scars are gone?"
Another nod.
"Are you fucking shitting me?"
She shook her head, chuckling sadly, "Demons can't lie when asked a direct question. I'm simply a higher form of Demon. I wouldn't lie to you, so the rule doesn't matter anyway." She held up a hand, and it crackled with red-tinged energy that disappeared into her closing fist.
I sat down hard on the edge of the bed, carefully avoiding breakfast, "I...I can't believe this... If you know me, you know that I don't believe in any of it."
She smiled, it was small, but it was there, "Whether you believe I'm real or not, here I am," she spread her arms wide, "and I'm here for you."
"You keep saying things like that, that you love me and such, putting aside the sheer unreality of that for a moment. This is about the time where any normal person asks, why me?"
She took a tentative step forward; I patted the bed, gesturing for her to sit; I was going to ride this crazy train to the end. A smile bloomed on her face, and she took a spot next to me, scooting closer until our shoulders were touching, her hand traced circles on the bed in what little space remained between us.
"I...I suppose it would be best if I started at the beginning. Are you hungry? Eat."
I hadn't realized just how on the mark she was until she said it, carefully sidestepping the question as to whether or not she'd
made
me hungry. I scooped up a plate; the eggs were perfect, light and fluffy, and the bacon was cooked exactly how I liked it.
"When a human dies, their soul passes through both realms to be weighed, mine and..." She pointed at the ceiling, "You know...The first time I saw your soul was after you were born, one of the times they brought you back, and I don't know why it interested me, but it did; there was something so kind, filled with infinite potential, things that I had never found interesting or attractive before. And before I knew it, I was watching you grow."
She twirled a lock of her hair around a finger, glancing over at me with a blush on her face, "I don't know when it turned into love, rather than mere interest, but I know that it scared me enough that I stopped watching you for years. I was at war within myself. Demons don't fall in love with humans, and for the Queen of Hell to break such a cardinal rule? I was lost."
I'd set the plate down, focusing on her, the raw emotion in her voice could've been an act, she was who she was after all, but the more I looked, the more I saw. Small tremors ran through her, her voice shook, and when she looked at me, her eyes were shimmering.
"When I finally gathered up the courage to look in on you, all I saw was pain, and it made me so very... angry," Her eyes flashed, and the tears evaporated in small wisps of smoke, "I sent an emissary to Heaven, demanding to know why, I was met with "all according to the plan" and I decided right then and there that I couldn't let you suffer anymore. But because of embargoes, I was unable to reveal myself to you; the truce stipulates that we do not interfere with humanity, Demons, and Angels alike."
I cut in, "Wait, so you broke the truce between Heaven and Hell to find me?"
She nodded, an almost sheepish look on her face, "I did, and I would do it a thousand times over."
"I just don't understand what could be so-"
"The cancer was supposed to kill you."
It felt like someone had sucked the air out of the room like someone had punched me in the chest; my ears began to ring...
"What?" My voice didn't sound right.
She grabbed my hand, and I let her as my heart pounded in my ears, her skin hot, almost feverish, "That was when I knew that I'd waited too long; I came to Earth, racing against it, it would be easier to show you."
Before I could stop her, she pressed her other hand against the side of my head, and suddenly I was somewhere long ago.
"
Hey, Ken? Can you give me confirmation on this report?
