Beloved Evil

TWELVE

The trolly smoothly rolled over the carpet, the silver platters upon it making it clear to everyone what her purpose in the halls was. But that still didn't stop the demons. They roughly pushed her aside as they walked past her, tugging at her dress, scratching at her exposed skin with their sharp nails.

Tara was almost completely fed up. She had been holding her tongue, but her body was filled to the brim with anger and resentment. She was about to snap. She could feel it.

She delivered the food as quickly as possible, eager to get out of that wing of the castle. She hated seeing the humans who lifelessly wandered the halls. Empty eyes, slouched shoulders. She hadn't forgotten Lucifer's threat about making her a pleasure slave. If that were to happen, she didn't know what she would do.

Just the thought made her shiver. She would rather rot down in the cellar than roam those halls with the purpose of pleasuring demons. Having them tear off her clothes and scratch her skin until she bleed. She wouldn't be able to bear it. 

She wasn't far in her plan of escape either. So many things had happened that had set it all on hold. But she knew she had to get back on track. She had to find Bartholomew. He was her only hope.

Since the meeting in the throne room a few days ago, a plan b had been set in motion though. She had found out that there were other castles out there, which meant that a whole world probably existed outside those walls. If she couldn't get out of Hell, maybe she just had to find another place to live in Hell. A small village, if that existed, or maybe just the forest. A little hut deep in the woods didn't sound too bad at the moment.

Tara took the now empty trolly back to the kitchen, a newfound determination blossoming. She wasn't sure where to go through. The castle was gigantic, and the halls were infinite. She decided to find a staircase. One thing was certain: she had to go down.

After a lot of twist and turns, she finally entered a hall that looked somewhat familiar. She recognized the paintings on the celling as she went further, and when she saw a girl dressed in a grey dress and an apron, dragging a bloody sheet behind her, she knew she was close.

She followed the girl, knowing that she would lead her to the morgue. From there, she was almost certain that she knew the way to the basement.

And she was right.

When she reached the morgue, she followed her memory and was soon met with crooked walls and a more gruesome ceiling, the colors darker than before.

She felt a rush of accomplishment run through her. If she really was right about her suspicion about Bartholomew, maybe she wasn't doomed after all.

"What are you doing here, human?"

Tara turned around, the color of her face draining as her eyes landed upon a demon. His teeth were sharp, his skin moist and greasy.

She took a step back.

"I got lost."

It was the first excuse that came to mind. Maybe she should have taken the trolly with her, she thought. Maybe that would have made her more believable.

"And where were you headed?" the demon asked, tilting his head. "When you got lost?"

She gulped, looking away from his black eyes and down to the floor.

"I apologize," she said, "I'll leave now."

She turned around, hoping that he would let her go without questioning her more. But of course, she was wrong.

He gripped her wrist and yanked her back. She collided with his hard chest, and she instantly tried to take a step back, getting as far away from him as possible.