The Devil (BOOK I + II)

1 | "I'm in Hell"

Chapter One
"I'm in Hell"

"the most courageous act is
still to think for yourself. aloud,"
— coco chanel

┏━━━━━━━┓

Everything was numb.

My body. My dreams. My mind.

I would have laughed, if it wasn't so depressing.

And even after all these days, I was still processing. Because this couldn't be my life. Not anymore. Not again.

I didn't know what day it was. But it's probably been almost a week since Micah found me outside the banquet hall. Since Daemon handed me over to him.

When I woke up, probably a day later, I was already laying in my bed in Russia, still wearing my dress on top of the covers that barely collected dust since I left.

Because they were clean. My family had been expecting me.

I woke up, alone. My room, although large, was empty. And the two windows that reminded me of my loneliness were barred up, barely giving me a sliver of sunlight from outside. I almost felt honoured. They really thought of everything.

There was a canopy, and a gold upholstered bed frame that took up a big junk of the wall. It was wide, with a gold damask duvet and six large pillows. The theme continued throughout the room, with a large beige carpet at the end of my bed, that was large enough to have a cream couch and two tufted, champagne tub chairs on either side of the couch.

My walk-in closet had frosted double doors on the left side of the wall across from me, with the TV hanging next to it. The bathroom was on the other side, which was equally huge.

The entire room was covered with a beige floral wallpaper, which seemed duller than before.

I felt paralyzed as I finished looking around, under the covers that barely moved from my sleep.

My expression was blank as I glanced to the left corner of my bedroom, where the new addition hung. The camera. I've flipped it off multiple times, but nothing happened.

I'd seen no one. Not even an employee to hand me food. Since my bedroom had an entryway in the middle of the wall on my right, they would leave the food on the small circular table without turning the corner to see me.

At first, I starved myself just to spite them. But by the second day, I'd caved.

I got the hang of figuring out the time. At nine, I'd get breakfast. Two, lunch. Eight, dinner. They'd grab the trays while I was sleeping, so I couldn't see anyone.

Welcome home, I guess.

I was staring at the TV across from me, able to see my reflection through it. My hair was messy and in knocks around me, and I was wearing a tee shirt and shorts. But it wasn't my features that felt different—I felt different.

My face was numb. Every time I attempted to smile, trying to manipulate my brain in hopes of feeling better, I failed. All I could do now was await instructions. Because knowing my family, there'd be rules, probably now more than ever, if possible.

I sucked a breath when a sound filled my room, and I straightened my back on my pillows with my hands curling into fists under the blanket. My eyes narrowed on the entryway, where the front door was. It was a knock.

"Come in," my voice was strong and thankfully, didn't waver, although I felt myself inching closer to panic.

I didn't hear a response, but when my ears perched higher, I could vaguely catch the sound of the door cracking open.