Runaway Devil

“She’s in a... unique situation.” the principal was trying to explain why I was showing signs of severe insubordination to my physics teacher. Since I was late to class almost every day, sometimes I don’t even show up, Mr. Bunner decided to bring it to the attention of the principal directly. Really it was because he thought he knew what a delinquent was when he saw one.

“That is no excuse to be late for my class every single day. I have no idea how she can keep up with the workload when she isn’t there half the time.” Mr. Bunner whispered the last part, trying to make it so I couldn’t hear him through the door. I kept my face neutral and leaned my head back against the wall. I listened quietly and took in my surroundings, something I was trained to do from a young age. Someone was walking towards the guidance office, while down another hall someone just opened the women's bathroom door. The pecking noise of the receptionists' keyboard was agitating.

All of a sudden, Mr. Bunner rushed out of Dr. Johnson’s office, looking like a child who was just told they couldn’t have dessert. “Miss James.” when I intentionally didn’t respond Dr. Johnson tried a different tactic. “Kara,” Her tone sharpened, which only lead to my further agitation.

“Mornin’,” I said as I plopped down in one of the chairs facing her desk. She just sighed and looked at me with a lack of patience. She was not in the mood to play.

“After school detention.” I nodded and stood, heaving my bag over my shoulder. “Get back to class.” It was a last-ditch effort to establish authority over me. Patty, the plump receptionist, ceased her typing while I walked by. I gave her a stale smile and continued out into the hall.

I looked at the clock on the wall, I still had time before Stitch closed the shop for the day. Instead of turning left, down the hall to my next class, I turned right, out the main doors.

“Hey, there she is.” Stitch greeted me at the door. I hugged him back as he wrapped his tattooed arm around my shoulder. He had almost completed his full bodysuit, it had taken him years to collect them all. He had a large septum piercing that he rarely took out, although he almost always forgets to put his earrings back in. He claimed there were too many to keep track of.

Bethany came out from one of the back rooms, just finished with another client. Her red lips were pierced and she had a habit of twisting the rings with her tongue.

Her client's upper arm was wrapped, no doubt where he just got his work done. "Make sure you take care of her, I will not be happy if you come back and she's fucked." She warned while setting up his next appointment. He chuckled and reassured her that he'd be careful with it. He left, giving us a small smile on his way out.

“You're here early.” She said as she walked out from behind the counter. "Don't you still have school for another," She paused and looked at the clock on the wall. "Three hours?"

“I mean, technically, yes."

“Kara, you can't keep skipping school.” I raised a brow at her. "Tell her Stitch." She stood with her hands on her wide hips, looking at him expectantly.

"Yeah, I've been meaning to talk to you about that." He said. "You can't come here when you don't want to go to school. I've only employed you part-time for a reason."

"But I can't fit all of my clients in on just a part-time schedule." I knew I accepted a heavier workload at the shop so that I would have to miss school. It didn't just happen accidentally. Technically, I had the equivalent of a master's degree. I was not about to be an uneducated, mindless soldier, I studied on my own since they would only provide the basics for all the warriors. But if I was going to blend in, I would have to do what normal 18-year-old humans did. And that would be going to school, some of the time at least.

“Kara,” Stitch said in a warning tone. I sighed and nodded. I wasn't about to lose my job at the only tattoo shop in the whole town. I was barely scraping by as it was.

“Hey, you guys wanna close up shop early today? All the clients are done for the day, right?” I asked, rocking on my heels, bored. I had cleaned my station and done a lot of basic maintenance work around the shop. There was one light in the hallway that had adopted a flicker, so that was fixed, along with any other issue regarding the function of the building.

“Yeah, it's nice out, let's go hang around back. Stitch?” Bethany said over her shoulder while she organized the magazines in the waiting area. He yelled that it was fine, it was only a half-hour early, from his office down the hall. I grinned and flipped the open sign to closed. Locking the doors, I made sure that everything was secure as I closed off all the lights.

“Hey! We closing early?” Nick yelled from the back.

“Yeah, we’re gonna kick it outback. Wanna join?” I asked, locking the first office door in the hallway.

“I’ll be right there,” I could hear him quickly cleaning his office and make his way to the back door. I finished locking up and knocked on Stitch's door, which was ajar.

"You coming?" He nodded without looking at me and shut down his computer.

"Yeah I just got to pack some stuff up, I'll be out in a minute." I nodded and pushed open the back door and used brick as a makeshift door jam. We all found various boxes and crates to sit on. I had chosen an old wooden box that we got shipments in, it was so old, and was used as a chair so many times, the wood had begun to bow where people sat. The sun had just started to set, so there was still warm light out, but it was subdued. It was comfortable, it reminded me of a warm summer evening, in a backyard, just sitting in the quiet. I could hear the birds beginning to make their way home, the trees talking with one another. It was peaceful, and I was with my family. There were about ten feet between the shop of the busted old fence that marked the edge of the property. It had the dumpster pushed against it as well as a gaping hole, where the neighbor's dog loved to visit us through. They had built a wooden fence on their side, so the dog would quit running away. They didn’t want him to come across any dirty needles or broken glass behind the shop. There have never been any needles or glass, just us, chilling, smoking, philosophizing.

I grabbed my cigarettes from my back pocket and lit one, taking a deep drag. My lungs weren't made to be breathing the human realm's air. It made my chest feel tight and my head spin. But, the closest thing I could get to hell's fires were these little sticks of tobacco. The smoke was delivered straight to my lungs upon every inhale. My blood was not made like human's, so the drugs within the tobacco were useless and far too mild to affect a demon.

As my mind relaxed, it unintentionally caused memories to rise without permission. I sat, sedated and mellow, remembering with a type of vague disconnect. I was nearly twenty in human years, the day had happened almost two years prior. It was still raw, like a wound that was still getting ripped open. The heat from the setting sun was fading, reminding me of how much I craved real heat. My body needed heat to function, I was made to feed on direct contact with hellfire, which was no normal flame. Hell was in my blood, it was a part of me, and by being in the human realm I was depriving my body and mind of what it truly needed. I had been concerned that it would weaken me, but evidently not. I was still maintaining all of my strength and skill from when I was a soldier. But that day was still fresh, I refused to forget it.

My surroundings slowly faded, replaced with the dark muggy heat of hell. My chest felt heavy as I prepared myself to relive it again.