daughter of hell

daughter of hell 14

"What is a friend,

but a single soul dwelling in two bodies."

- Aristotles

P.O.V. (Luci)

I had finished sprinkling salt in Mr. Cocky's tothbrush when the smell of sulfur made me whip my head around to see a figure manifistat from the flames that licked up the demon's frame. I knew it was a demon, only we could do something this cool. I was all reday to lecture the poor blackened soul on privvacy in the bathroom and to do well to remember who I was, and what I could do to him when I recognised his face. "Marcus!" I exclaimed, overjoyed to see my best friend in the world. I jumped in his arms and locked my legs around his slim waist. His muscled arms pressed me thightly agains his broad chest. I hit my nose in his neck and inhaled Marcus' own personal musk. He smelled earthy, so familiar. Demons, I had missed him. "What took you so long?" I murmured. He laughed a deep throaty laugh, very masculine. "You've only been gone for three days."

Three days? Had it only been three days, it felt like months. "I still missed you." I said subornly. "Haven't you missed me?" He stroke my face in a tender gesture. I pushed my cheek agains his rough palm like a cat proling the given affection.

"I did miss you." He whispered. "You should have come sooner." I pouted. "I wanted to." He kissed my temple. "But I'm not the big bosses daughter. I'm just plebs, I have to work to earn my keep. This is the soonest I could get here."

"You still should have come sooner. You better have some good news for me from home."

Switch P.O.V. (Marcus)

I heard the yearning in her voice when mentioning home. It pained my my heart to see or hear any kind of pain caused to her.

I didn't understand why the boss had sended her away to a boardingschool. They both wanted her home, in Hell. Satan was miserable and more cruel and ruthless than normal. Luci was his golden girl, she was the light in his life. Not only for him, she was my personal sunshine too.

I could still remember how my days had been before her arrival in Hell. The emptiness, the nothingness of my existence. I had been dead inside before I met her, even as a human life hadn't holded much interest for me. I couldn't feel, I didn't expierence emotions like a normal human, I couldn't seem to bring myself to care, about anything. That's why I killed myself and had ended up straight in Hell. The nuns of the orphanage were pretty clear about suicide, I could still hear sister Mary Theresia say: 'Don't you know that you yourselves are God's temple and that God's Spirit lives in you? If anyone destroys God's temple, God will destroy him; for God's temple is sacred, and you are that temple.' To rephrase it: kill yourself and you're screwed. I hadn't cared back then. It was a long time ago, back in the 14th century, I know that now. If I hadn't killed myself I'm sure it would have been a matter of time before I got the plague. Back then I slept anywhere I could find room, I hadn't minded sharing that place with rats. It's a miracle that I didn't suffer the protuberances on my body, with the luck I had back then, nothing would have surprised me. Life an dead had been the same for me. Suffering, not caring what happened to me. Satan had taken an interest in me. He had given me a pulse again, I wouldn't call it life. I became a demon and did what was expected from me, I copmpleted my chores without caring what I did, and to who I did it. Than Luci appeared in the troneroom in front of Satan. I was there that day, I had ushered a corrupted soul to Hell and was going to inform Saton of our latest asset. I saw her and it was like for the first time in my life I saw the sun. She was bolt an daring, cheesy, witty, funny and her smile... her smile could melt the North Pole, she coloured the empty walls of my heart with only a 'Hey, what's up?'.

I had been nineteen when I killed myself, my body hadn't changed since then. I still had the youthful appearance of a teenager, even if I was never given the chance to be a kid. I never knew my father and my mother was a whore who died when giving birth to me. I grew up in an orphan home where abuse was a daily occurrence. At the age of seven I ran away and lived on the streets till the day I died.