The beats of Kara’s heart rose to the sound of the ringing.
She wondered why a number that needed to be called in emergencies didn’t have a soothing tune.
It only intensified her panting.
It felt like an eternity had passed as she waited for that familiar click.
And she did hear it. It was followed by comprehensible words that she was too excited to understand.
Yet, the end of the sentence repeated in her head.
"...how may I help you?"
Help. Yes, she needed help.
She opened her mouth.
"My, I’m sorry; my toddler misdialed."
Those weren’t her words. She didn’t say them.
Fear caused her throat to seize up.
The phone was taken from her hands, and the call was cut.
’How did this happen?’ she wondered, feeling a sharp presence behind her. ’Where’s the stall door?’
It wasn’t there. It had been taken off its hinges.
’How did I not hear a thing?’
She wanted to scream for help as a last resort, but the call had already been cut. And the operator could not hear her even if she wanted to.
Something fell to the floor. The sound was followed by a crunch, as if glass had been ground.
Through the periphery of her gaze, she could see a phone—her phone—crushed beneath a leather shoe.
Her arms, holding her shivering torso, shook.
Death was looming over her, and she wanted to die with eyes closed, unaware of the enormity of that presence.
Perhaps it would come easier this way.
In the frightening silence, only the beads of sweat hitting the floor could be heard.
And a moment later, a hoarse voice echoed.
"The tank is full." It was a chilling voice, too grand for a human to possess. "Get up."
The sound of footsteps drew further away.
Kara’s shaking subsided.
Death had spared her, but it had sucked away her will to resist.
With defeated steps and an uneasy pace, she walked out of the bathroom, desperate thoughts swirling around her head.
Her feet came to a halt as she remembered something.
Turning her head, she received the answer to her earlier question.
The stall door was in smithereens.
That single word seemed to calm her down.
There was no fighting off a monster like that.
The poor girl finally accepted her situation.
Her weak feet took her back to the car, where she found the two men smoking cigarettes around the petrol pump.
Lucifer spared her an unbothered gaze. It was as if he was looking at something insignificant, something less than an object.
Kara found it unpleasant and demeaning, but she preferred it to whatever else he was capable of.
Waiting for further instructions, she stood by the car, her back to them. If something bad were to happen, she wouldn’t be able to see it coming. And she liked that. It kept her calm.
Watching the starry sky, a funny thought wiggled into her head.
’Why haven’t I cried yet?’
The situation was dire enough to warrant a few tears, yet somehow, she had managed to keep them at bay.
The cold of the night felt even colder tonight. It was the same for her boyfriend.
For him, too, it was a frigid night.
"She is responsible for the death of more than a hundred people," Averie said as if quoting someone else. "That’s what Lucifer said."
His hand stroked the soft fur of Miss Meow. He couldn’t remember when it had begun, but at some point, while filming, he had nurtured this habit.
It seemed to put him in a trance, allowing him to better study the script.
It was nice. It was soft. It was comforting.
And that’s why he hated it. It wasn’t right to get so comfortable around a spawn of Hell.
But like the many wrong choices of Gene Conti, Averie allowed himself to indulge. Thɪs chapter is updated by 𝕟𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕝⟡𝕗𝗂𝗋𝖾⟡𝕟𝕖𝕥
"You poisoned families. You poisoned husbands, wives, and their children." His strokes became gentler. "Being left in the body of a cat isn’t that bad compared to what you deserve."
He looked into her eyes.
"We need to buy you some toys. Maybe some catnip too?"
"Yeah, let’s ask Hyerin before we get you high."
He looked at the night sky through his hotel window.
"There are no stars in the sky." He played with Mis Meow’s ears. "There might be some in the boonies and on the road, but there are no stars in Berlin."
His eyes glazed over.
"The stars of Berlin... they are all in their suites, draped in satin and all the royal colors."
The red of their dresses, Averie could vividly imagine.
"How many dresses did you turn red, Charlene?"
He looked down at the cat in his lap.
"Or is it Patricia now?"
The moon shone in the eyes of the cat, clear as a polished crystal.
Exasperated, Satan looked at Kara.
"Aren’t you cold, girl?" he asked, as if he were drunk. "I can send you to Hell if you want some warmth. Maybe you can embrace your boyfriend there."
He chuckled, but the girl didn’t.
Satan sighed. "Can’t even take a joke; what a downer."
He waved a packet of cigarettes in her face.
The girl hesitated before picking up a cigarette.
Laughing, Satan lighted it.
With a few coughs, she exhaled the smoke.
She had tried it before, but never had nicotine felt so wonderful. It felt like her insides were taking a warm bath.
She took a puff, then one more, then another; on and on, it continued.
She believed that with enough of it in her system, she could warm her body, but the flesh remained cold.
’Why do they call us warm-blooded animals?’
All she could feel on her skin was the chill.
She sneaked a glance at the two men.
Talking among themselves, they had gone through multiple packs already, as evidenced by the cigarette butts scattered at their feet.
Moderation didn’t seem to be a word they were too familiar with.