I didn’t even need to check that it was true, because she was still there. Right in the back of my mind, watching me and waiting for the moment she was needed.
I swallowed hard, and my throat protested loudly. It was as parched as the desert. I moved to shimmy out from beneath Moira and Bandit, but she tightened her hold on me, and my best friend looked up.
All it took was one look from her and tears formed in the corners of my eyes.
“Oh, honey…” she whispered and held me tighter.
“How much do you know?” I rasped.
“Not much. Allistair came and found me last night. Told me some bad shit went down and you were drugged,” she murmured against my shoulder.
“Did he really say that?” I asked.
“That some bad shit went down?” she asked. I nodded. “No. I’m paraphrasing. He used more adulty words, but I kind of lost my shit because I knew something was up before he found me. You didn’t come back. I was looking everywhere for you. They brought me home and I saw you lying in bed—” She stopped and hugged me tighter.
“I killed someone, Moira,” I whispered.
She didn’t even hesitate. “They probably deserved it.”
I choked back the sob that threatened to escape me. Whether from shock or gratitude, I didn’t know. What I did know was that Moira was the best fucking friend that I could ever ask for.
“You don’t have to talk about it. Just tell me where, and I can bury the body. No one will ever know.” Wet tears streamed down my face as I hugged her tighter. The dryness in my throat stung as I tried to swallow the lump that formed.
Devil knows what I did to deserve her.
“He’s already gone,” I whispered.
“What do you mean?”
I took a deep breath. I was prepared to tell her everything, but not yet.
“Can I take a shower first? I feel disgusting, and after—” I didn’t even have to finish. Moira unwound herself from me and jumped out of bed. Her makeup smeared across her face, and black tear marks trailed from her eyes to her chin.
“You don’t have to explain yourself. I’m going to go start some tea and make a pot of coffee. I’ll be in the living room when you’re done.” She smiled weakly and left me to my own devices. I was probably supposed to cry then. It would have made sense.
Cry for myself. Cry because I killed someone. Hell. Maybe if I were another girl, I would have cried for the man I killed.
They were rapists and killers, and I wouldn’t cry for that.
They didn’t deserve my tears.
I inhaled through my nose and gently removed my arm from underneath Bandit. He rolled over onto my pillow and left a trail of slobber behind. At least some things never change.
The transition from laying down to standing was harder. My head began pounding, and the room swayed. I took it slow, gripping the headboard as I went. When my feet touched the floor, it took a minute to adjust before standing. Oddly enough, the shift to standing wasn’t terrible. My legs felt weak, wobbly. I suppose that getting drugged twice in one night will do that to you.
I made a promise to myself right there: no more bars. Me and Moira could get drunk at home if we wanted, but I wasn’t stepping foot in another fucking bar as long as I lived.
My first steps towards the bathroom were slow and shaky, but they were steadier by the time I reached the door. I gripped the handle tightly, ignoring the mirror as I entered. I didn’t want to see myself like this. That might actually break me.
I crossed the cool tile floors, staring at my feet as I went. My mind was numb. My body acted without thought. The throbbing in my throat stung, but the grime against my skin was worse. I was dirty in a way that even water couldn’t clean, but that wouldn’t stop me from trying.
My skin reeked of sweat and alcohol.
I stepped into the shower, still clothed, and flipped it on. Even the memory of where Josh’s fingers and mouth had been made me want to scream. Not in pain, but in fury.
I tore at the shirt plastered to my chest, shredding the fabric until it no longer clung to my skin, littering the floor of my shower in scraps and pieces. The rest of my clothes followed. I would burn what was left of them before the day was over.
I scrubbed the shampoo into my hair, washing away the sweat, dirt, and ash that coated me. I emptied the body wash onto myself as I tried to scratch my skin clean with the loofah.
My hair smelled of lavender, and my skin was red and raw, but it wasn’t clean enough. Inside me, the beast paced. She didn’t like this. She thought it was pointless. She’d rather be out there burning the world down. I ignored her as I let out the one and only scream I would allow myself.
After this, what’s done is done. I would give myself these few minutes. Not to cry. Not to anguish over the demons that died, or my would-have-been rapist.
I screamed because I could.
Because it happened.
Because I was violated.
Because words could not describe what I felt, but the animalistic roar was as close as I could get.
When my voice broke and my ears rang, the back of my throat raw and tasting of blood, I finally heaved a sigh of relief and let go of the sponge. I turned the water off and stepped out of the shower, feeling lighter than before. I dried my skin with a clean towel and wrapped it around my waist. While brushing my teeth, something caught my eye in the mirror and the toothbrush fell from my fingers.
Five points now adorned my sternum. Black lines connected them. A circle ran around the edges. And the realization of what I was staring at made the beast within me purr.
After twenty-three years of believing I was half-demon, an upside-down pentagram formed between my breasts.
I had a brand. Which meant I would transition.
That brand was Lucifer’s mark.
I tore my eyes away from the mark on my chest and brushed my teeth as quickly as possible. I didn’t want to look at it. Not today. Today, I would be Ruby. Just Ruby. The tattoo artist who had a pet raccoon and a crazy best friend.
Today, I would eat a bucket of Rocky Road ice cream. I would drink two pots of earl grey, and spend the entire day laying on my sofa watching Viola Davis and her team of wannabe lawyers. I would wear pajamas and make Moira braid my hair because I was too lazy to do it.
Today, I was the half-succubus from Portland, who attracted more trouble than even the Horsemen of Hell knew what to do with.
Tomorrow, I would be Lucifer’s daughter.
The demon destined to be the next ruler of Hell.
But today, I was just Ruby.