The land's devil

Death didn’t come.

Still she kept her eyes closed.

21/12/1993

That was her birthday. She was sixteen. Her breath slowly stabilized. When she opened her eyes again, this world suddenly felt different. She could feel the pain from the burns made on her skin by the friction of the ropes, she could taste the wind and her own sweat. She was bothered by the feeling of her shirt sticking to her back, the strands of hair tickling her nape from her loose ponytail. Her fingers were hurting as she had clenched her fists unconsciously as Nate first appeared on the playground, and didn’t unclench them - until now. White knuckles and all of those sounds. The rustlings of the trees, the distant voices, the sound of traffic. The cicadas, still singing. Nate was looking somewhere else, humming something. She looked at him and remembered gravity.

Suddenly she had a fear of heights.

Her limbs were heavy as she tried to coordinate them to climb down, her hands slightly trembling from relieved tension. She moved past Nate, who glanced at her without saying anything, and touched the ground - it was sand, and it was still hot. She crouched here and put her head in her arms, silently listening to the sound of her own heartbeat. Something had changed.

Her mind was empty.

It wasn’t cusped anymore by someone else’s hand, the boundaries in which she had existed in this world had disappeared. She was alone in this body. The worm was dead. She knew it instinctively : it was supposed to be like this. Sarah had been alone too inside her mind, and she was the only one that had dreams. Small ones, like getting a bigger apartment, adopting a cat. She knew it was right.

It didn’t feel like it.

She wanted someone to hold her to sleep. If she was free, what was this ? Something else was getting a hold on her, faster even than the devil.

Loneliness.

Excruciating loneliness.

She was born again in this world just like that, on a weekday’s evening. The fact that it was Tuesday was probably just the devil’s sense of irony. If it wasn’t, she hated it.

**

Sissy was breathing slowly, crouched on the ground. This pain was something different, something that Sarah knew about and she didn’t. She couldn’t handle it. She was tearing up already, and it hadn’t been a minute. Now that nobody was holding her, holding herself wasn’t enough.

“Mom,” she cried softly.

The devil chuckled, up in the air above her.

As soon as she heard his laugh, she remembered. Anne wasn’t her mother, not really. But then who was she ? She had a name. Nobody else did, except Nate and her father. It had to mean something.

Didn’t it ?

She raised her head to look at the devil.

The question must have been written all over her face, because he answered her before she could ask it.

“I trapped her like I trapped you.”

It grabbed her by the throat.

Her eyes stayed on the devil, but her mind drifted away to Sarah’s memories. Sarah had this habit; she always knew how many people were in the museum at once. A matter of security maybe, it felt more like gossip though. On that day too, she was aware of every single visitor that had come by her desk.

21.

21 souls, and among them, there was a young couple with their dog. The woman was named Annabelle.

Anne.

She felt her throat tighten until she couldn’t breathe anymore.

What ?

The conclusion was straightforward, she chose to circle around it. The devil was just playing with her, because that’s what bad people do. There was no way her mom was just a stranger she had met once. But then again, Sarah might have spent more time speaking with Annabelle on that day that she had spent time with Anne in all of her lives combined. Who were they to each other when all they had shared was implied, but not experienced ? She was grieving a woman she hadn’t known.

All of that pain and sadness she had been shouldering after Anne passed away, then disappeared - meant nothing.

Pointless misery.

That was maybe even crueler than unwanted freedom. She felt the cry she couldn’t bear to voice pierce her guts. Her existence was a ridiculous thing.

Sissy’s head dropped. The devil stared at her.

“They’re all trapped like you are.”

So what ? She didn’t really care in the end.

“But you’re the only one I chose.”

There was laughter in his voice.

Sissy raised her head again.

Then she saw him. For the first time she really saw him - her god. He was looking at her like he had done her a favor, because all he knew about pain was how to inflict it on others. His appearance was mediocre at best, brown hair, a forgettable face. But his eyes were bloodthirsty, his smiling lines deep. All of this was funny to him, the same careless laughter one can’t hold in as they see someone else fall. Those were not his bruised knees, his broken nose. Why would he care ? He was alone in a different way than she was. He was alone by virtue of being unique. He had no equal here, as he had none back in the museum. That’s why everything he did seemed justified to him. He would never apologize for any of this, because he couldn’t be compelled to feel sorry for beings he couldn’t identify with.

They were just too different for friendship.

Her lips parted in a small smile.

Ah, but she would never forgive this.

Neither his favor or indifference, she liked nothing about the god that birthed her. He wouldn’t know that; who expects hatred in one of his subjects ? Her hands were still trembling as she tried to offer him an expression of gratitude. How strange. Even if she had just born a few minutes earlier, and it had been nothing but pain, she couldn’t give up on this life. It would have been easier to.

But as she was here, crouched on the ground under the gaze of this world’s apex predator, she still tried to please him.

All she needed from him was pity - the one you’d have for a limping dog. Cup my head in your hands, tell me again I’m your best bet. I’ll bark if you keep me safe. Just like before, Nathan. But this time she’ll play along.

She. Not Sarah, or Sophie. Her - Sissy.

As, contrarily to the ones that came before her, she had no pride to cling to.