Battery

He was nice when he wanted to be.

Not that he ever wanted to be nice- I’m just saying, it certainly could have been worse.

I’m an optimist, I guess. Even today.

Even if his brief moments of kindness were purely self-serving, I appreciated them all the same.

Maybe this was that thing people talked about when girls got kidnapped- feeling empathy for their captors. But, like I said, I’m an optimist, and after so many weeks- no, God, months of being with him, I really have to squint to see the bright side or else I’ll never last.

For example, this morning, when he came to give me breakfast, he gave me two pieces of bread, instead of the usual one. And the water he gave me was cool and fresh. It was the most full I’d felt in weeks- since he’d given me an apple to eat for lunch ‘in honor of Eve,’ he’d told me.

Of course, it was always in his best interest to keep me alive, anyway, but he found that giving me the bare minimum kept me… grateful.

He wasn’t wrong.

I was reading in bed when he came in for his boost. His energy. His meal.

My stomach panged with stress pains.

“Don’t you get tired of that?” He teased snidely. I frowned at him standing in the doorway of my room. I looked away quickly, closing the book and shaking my head gently with a shrug. It was the one book in the pile that I actually enjoyed reading.

“You make a great point, as always,” he mocked my silence.

The pile I kept on the bedside table consisted of books leftover in the house when we had moved in. The family who had lived here had a teenage daughter, from whom most of the books came from. I stared at their family pictures on the walls every day.

He had picked books from around the house and threw them at me after the first time I tried to kill myself.

‘Pets need mental stimulation, or they’ll ruin your furniture,’ he’d told me.

That was back when he kept me locked in the basement.

I’d tried to hang myself with my belt.

The second time, he tortured me for days, possibly weeks, until he was finally bored. And then, he gave me this room to ‘win back’ his ‘best girl.’

He pulled the chair away from the wall, twisting it around and sitting in it backwards next to me, assuming his usual position. I held out my arm, laying back into my pillow, readying myself.

Sometimes it felt like I was just at the doctor’s office, getting blood drawn. Just with less disinfectant and latex, and more fear.

He took my arm in his hands, lowering his face down to my skin. He took in a deep breath and let out a satisfied sigh.

“You’re a Dad-send, doll.” His touch, his breath, his voice- it all sent a disgusting chill down my spine.

Quickly, I went to my happy place, preparing myself for the usual shock I would feel.

My happy place was bright and warm. I was spinning around and around- dancing; flying. I stood tall in ballet shoes, surrounded by mirrors and people. Half turn- see the awe on peoples’ faces. Full turn- see my athletic frame poised gracefully.

My body jolted with the pain of his draining touch. His skin burned mine.

I took deep breaths and shut my eyes tightly, focusing on the music and my steps. 1- 2- penché, 1- 2- 3- arabesque; twisting and turning around the dance studio as my students’ eyes watched diligently. My skin begins to shine slickly with sweat. My joy floods through my smile.

The smell of burning flesh suddenly assaulted me, choking me; suffocating me.

“Luc-… ifer,” I gasped in horror.

“Sh, a few more seconds.”

My lungs shriveled without fresh air.

“Lucifer,” I urged breathlessly.

He let out an annoyed huff of breath.

He pulled his hands away from my skin, forcefully throwing my arm into my chest, and I felt mild relief then. I gulped down air rapidly, squeezing my eyes shut. The pain was overwhelming.

“You know, for an angel battery, you’re unbelievably weak.”

I watched him suck his fingers, licking the blood off his hands and wiping them on his shirt. My stomach turned with horror. I cradled my arm to my chest, grinding my teeth, seething with pain and anger. My eyes flooded with tears, hot with hatred and anguish.

It’s good enough for you, I thought.

My right arm was melted down through the muscle, from the top of my hand up to my shoulder. In some spots, white bone glistened with crimson blood deep in between thick muscle. My body was in shock now, making me dizzy.

I peered up at Lucifer through the waves of greasy hair that covered my face. I felt hollow and tired. He, on the other hand, looked refreshed.

He stretched out his arms, cracking his shoulders and spine, and sighing contentedly. I held out my arm to him, shaking and shivering, unable to speak through my deep, unsteady breaths. He rolled his eyes and put a stained finger to my forehead. In a second, my arm was healed. I could breathe again, but the memory of that scent lingered with me, making my stomach churn with absolutely disgust.

I couldn’t help my emotions shifting once again. I felt my heart swell with appreciation. At least he was kind enough to heal me when it got this bad.

“Thank you,” I whispered. He nodded expectantly.

“You’re welcome, human,” he responded patronizingly.

I hadn’t always been like this.

But, you learn after the first couple of hours of torture that… if you can’t beat ‘em, you might as well join ‘em. It’s just easier that way. And, isn’t it better to stay alive and be unhappy than to die for your pride? Or, so he told me.

I was so lonely I wanted to speak more. But, what would I say? What would be the consequence? Would it be worth it just to hear my own voice; to have someone’s attention?

“You don’t like reading?” I asked quietly. My voice was hoarse due to the rarity that I used it. I stared at him lazily, letting my eyes unfocus and close for brief seconds at a time.

“I don’t like reading trash.”

“I don’t exactly have a library of books at my disposal.”

“Who asked?” he sneered childishly.

He threw the chair back to its place at the wall, smashing into the yellow tulip wallpaper. I jumped at the loud crash. I shut my mouth tightly, pressing my lips together and looking down at my clasped hands in my lap. My stomach painfully tightened again with anxiety.

“I’m sorry,” I said, barely even speaking, just mouthing the words.

I turned my head towards the black-out curtains that covered my window, suddenly wishing I could leap out into the night; fly and fall and sleep, forever.

“Hey,” he sang, swiftly moving to meet me face-to-face. “Chin up, human.” He grabbed my chin with his fingers, pulling my gaze to meet his. I stared at him blankly, still feeling drained and ill.

“I’m sorry,” I repeated, whispering a little louder this time. His proximity made me so uncomfortable I had to shut my eyes tightly to avoid looking at his own.

“Hey,” he scolded lowly. He shook my chin roughly. “Open.” I opened my eyes for him slowly, staring at him miserably. His stern frown turned up into a sick grin. “You wanna hear a real story?” He asked patronizingly.

Not if it’s the same one you’ve told me a hundred times already.

I nodded my head carefully in his tight grip.

He’s talking to you, not at you. He’s trying to share with you, and tell you about himself.

“Yes,” I breathed out.

He let me go and moved away from me, circling around to the other side of the bed. To my horror, he jumped into bed next to me, laying on his back with his hands underneath his head on the pillow. I tried to steady my shallow breathing. I craned my neck slightly away from him, to the right side of the bed. I couldn’t look at him.

Once upon a time, there was a handsome prince…. Blah, blah, shunned. Blah, blah, murder. Blah, blah, took great care of the kingdom.

“Once upon a time, there was a handsome prince, second in line to his father’s throne. He was the smartest, most cunning of his brothers. He was the most loyal to his father. But, his brothers grew jealous of the handsome prince. They told their father to cast him out of the kingdom. His father listened to them because his first born, the ugliest and dullest brother- and the one with the brownest of all noses- told him that the handsome prince loved his family more than his royal subjects.

“The king was stupid, so naturally, he listened to the brothers who betrayed the handsome prince. The king sent the prince to the darkest, bloodiest wasteland in all the land. One might even call it… a living hell.

“After years of being outcast by his family, the handsome prince created his own family in this wasteland; finding new subjects to look over as their king. Now, this handsome king eventually returned to his homeland to face his brothers and his father.

“He murdered the brothers who betrayed him. And, because he was not only stupid, but a coward, as well, the handsome king’s father ran away, leaving behind his abandoned royal subjects, whom he was supposed to have loved so dearly, and a lonely kingdom with no one to lead it.

“The handsome king stepped up to rule not only the wasteland he had come to know and love, but also the kingdom that shunned him and cast him out. He took good care of this kingdom… until one day, another version of his eldest brother came from an alternate dimension and murdered the handsome king for no fucking reason.”

He paused. My breathing had calmed significantly. This was a new addition to the story. I slowly turned my head to look at him. He stared at me intensely. His determined eyes were a deep, bright blue, standing out in the dim light. The lamp shone brightly behind him, casting a shadow across his face, but bringing out the blond in his hair. His skin looked darker in this light, making the scars and burn marks stand out crudely. He looked like a zombie. Like the undead.

Like the Devil.

“Now, this handsome king, being the smartest and most cunning in all the land had anticipated this unbelievable probability- because he was so smart, and cunning, and handsome. He had asked his magically-inclined royal subjects to cast a spell on the vessel that contained his almighty power, binding a part of his grace to the meat suit he wore to fit into his father’s stupid fucking kingdom full of ugly fucking humans.

“This way, when his brother tried to kill the handsome king, it seemed as though he succeeded.

“But, he didn’t.

“And no one knew except for the handsome king and his witches. Everyone thought that the handsome king was dead. And, this meant that he could recuperate in peace. Alone. Just him, and a brand new, ultra rare, angel battery to nurse him back to health.

“Even though the angel battery looked weak and ugly on the outside, it was actually quite powerful on the inside, and had the power to create grace- almost as if out of thin air. But, after accidentally breaking one angel battery, the handsome king found out that you can’t use its power all at once, or that makes the battery explode,” he said, mocking a look of surprise. I immediately shut my eyes and looked away, taking in a sharp breath, suddenly reliving the day Lucifer stepped into my home. “So, he found one more angel battery- in fact, the first angel battery’s daughter!” I opened my eyes again and stared blankly at the wall across from me.

The browning blood. The burning flesh. The screams of a girl who didn’t get to say goodbye to her mom.

“And so, the handsome king siphoned grace from his new angel battery until it ran dry and the handsome king was strong enough to fight his evil older brother. And then he murdered him for a second time. And the handsome king lived happily ever after. The end.”

He fell silent again.

I imagined a big shit-eating grin on his face. The thought of his happiness over my misery made me sick. I closed my eyes tightly and let my face twist with anguish. I remained quiet, unwilling to draw his attention to my feelings.

Suddenly Lucifer’s hand gripped onto my arm, pulling me around, towards him. I gasped and snapped my eyes open widely. I yelped at the stinging pain emanating from his hand. His blue eyes were full of joy.

“A little more tonight, human. It’s just too good.” I let out another cry at the familiar burning. “You have no idea how incredible this feels.” This pain was typical- nothing like the torture he’d put me through before. My muscles stiffened as I tried to steady my breathing.

Do something.

“Please,” I gasped. I tried to focus my thoughts on my happy place, but my mind was torn between my love and Lucifer’s story.

Dancing and spinning in an empty room; a dark and quiet room. Red eyes staring at me from the wall as I stretched and lept. Red eyes suddenly racing towards me with shining white fangs and huge black wings.

“Stop,” I cried, instinctually pushing out my arms forcefully. With a final feat of strength, I pushed myself away from him and pulled my arms back.

I tucked my legs up, rolling off the side of the bed, landing on my feet, and sprinting away. When I reached the door, I heard Lucifer sigh from the bed. He hadn't moved. I continued to run, determined and hopeful. I just wanted this torture to end- the energy he took from me, the psychological mind fucks he forced upon me. It was just too much.

Tonight, I was running away or I was dying.

The end game was always death. I knew that all along. And, I was ready to go. But, I wanted it on my own terms.

I ran through the house blindly, unaware of its layout, in search of the kitchen- only one thing on my mind.

I flew down the stairs, tripping down the last few steps and twisting my ankle. I gasped and saw a cloud of black invade my vision as I continued to run, limping miserably, trying to fight through the pain.

How simple a fix that would be for death or for angels.

Through the clouds I noted the appearance of the house I had occupied for so long. It was so ordinary. The living room was bright

“Human, come on,” Lucifer groaned from the top of the stairs. I felt something ignite in me.

“Liz! My name is Liz!” My voice cracked as I screamed. I had so rarely had the chance to exercise it I was surprised it rose to such a volume at all.

He said nothing. I imagined him rolling his eyes- the blue eyes he stole from an innocent human.

I stumbled to the hall and made my way to the kitchen. I immediately began my search for a knife.

Nothing on the counters.

I scrambled to open each drawer.

Nothing.

I let out a frustrated cry, turning to look back to the hall. Lucifer stood in the doorway, leaning against the wall with crossed arms, giving me a tired, patronizing stare. I backed away from him, finding the doorknob to the kitchen door. I tried to turn it, shaking it and pulling hard. When it didn’t budge, I tried to fiddle with the lock, turning it and trying again. Still, it didn’t work. I tried to turn the second lock above the knob, hearing it click.

Lucifer’s hand slammed onto the door before I could open it.

I immediately let go, stumbling backwards, into the island counter.

“Did you get it out of your system?” He asked distastefully.

I looked around the kitchen pathetically. It was completely empty apart from my cup and plate, some fruit, and a loaf of bagged white bread. No utensils, no other food, nothing.

I looked back at him, feeling a wave of dread come over me.

“Please let me go.” He sighed, throwing his head back.

“Dad, she didn’t even listen to my story.” He looked back at me, shaking his head. “I’ve given you so much and you still try to defy me. You’re so fucking selfish.”

His face was overcome with anger and he grabbed onto my arms suddenly. His grip was like a vice as he pushed me against the counter. He lifted me and I bent painfully onto the countertop. I tried to pull my legs up as he forced me further. I cried out again, trying to pry his hands away from me; kicking at him with my legs. He grabbed onto my flailing wrists, slamming them down onto the counter. I continued to struggle, trying to keep him away from me.

“Stop!” I screamed. He took his hands away from my wrists, throwing one over my mouth and the other around my neck. I gasped in quickly before my airway became constricted. I felt my breathing wheeze- quick and heavy and full of fear. Maybe this was how it was to end.

“I’m so sick of your shit,” he hissed. “I’m so sick of the way you look. I’m so sick of the way you look at me.” I closed my eyes, feeling dizzy. I stopped my legs from kicking, trying to focus on my breaths. I opened my eyes again, trying to plead with him. He took his hand away from my mouth and gripped onto my hip tightly. He ran this hand up the side of my body. I watched his eyes follow his hand, landing on my chest.

I tried to kick at him again weakly.

“Stop,” I mouthed, unable to make any sound other than quiet squeaks.

“Sh,” he hushed. “Humans are rather fascinating, I suppose.”

He slowly placed his hand underneath my shirt, dragging his fingers across my skin gently. I took in frantic gasps of air, using any strength I had to move away from him. I weazed and choked clumsily.

“Sh,” he repeated. “Relax.” He traced up my stomach, around my waist, and settled his hand on my breast.

I closed my eyes, feeling too tired to keep them open. I stopped struggling.

“Stop,” I mouthed again.

“Relax,” I heard him say, as if he was far away. I felt his lips on my neck, his breath heavy against my skin and the small hairs along my hairline. He bit the skin there, but I barely felt it. I began to lose any feeling, at all, until…

He suddenly took his hand away from my throat. I took in gasps of air and coughed to clear the leftover blockage.

“So weak,” he said as I choked. “Not worth it.”

He grabbed onto my upper arm, dragging me off of the counter. I fell to the floor and screamed. I stayed hunched on the ground, realizing now that I had started crying. I stared at the floor, on my hands and knees. Drops of tears dotted the linoleum floor. I felt my stomach churn, and heaved with nausea.

Lucifer kicked me in the stomach, sending me over, onto my back. I cried openly now, sobbing and trying to curl into myself. I hugged my stomach.

“Pathetic,” he spat.

He pulled me up by my arm and I heard a pop, causing me to scream out in pain. He dragged me out of the kitchen, and I had to quickly find my footing so that I didn’t trip and fall.

“Lucifer, please,” I cried. “I’m sorry.” He didn’t stop; didn’t look back at me. “I’m sorry, please,” I repeated.

I heard him chuckle.

He led me back up to my room and threw me in. I lost my footing and fell to the floor in a heap. I screamed again, cradling my arm to my chest.

“I’m sorry,” I sobbed.

“Yeah, I know,” he laughed. “Why don’t you take some time to think, human.” I looked up at him, unable to mask my horror. He wasn’t going to heal me, and I didn’t know when I would see him again.

“No, please,” I begged. “Please don’t leave me alone. I’m sorry.” He had a smile on his face. He winked at me.

“I’ll see you.”

I screamed as he turned and left, slamming the door shut behind him; locking it.

I wasn’t going anywhere.