rest in pettiness

tombstone 02

"Hey Manny, your father has to go on an week-long field trip with his class and I have a business meeting to attend for who knows how long!" Emmanuel's mother drawled loudly from downstairs. "Peyton is probably gonna sleep over at a friend's house so you're going to be home alone!"

"Okay!"

"Don't destroy the house like you did to your self-esteem in middle school!"

"Okay!"

"See you soon, sweetheart!"

A soft echo of the lock rail of the door clicking in place with it's counterpart inside of the door frame casing ceased and left the still house standing. Silence haunted the area underneath the flat roof with one resident awake inside it. The dull morning light shining upon all of mankind's failures was prodding away the teenager's sleepiness.

After wresting and failing to close his curtains from his bed, Emmanuel figured he might as well get out of bed because there was no way he could go back to sleep with the sun picking a fight with his slumber. Shedding his nighttime attire and substituting it with slacks and an old Twenty One Pilots concert T-shirt, Emmanuel's uneventful day began the moment he strode into the bathroom. His hand immediately slapped the light switch, casting a warm glow over the rectangular bedroom.

Emmanuel spotted the demon, as it did not attempt to hide it's presence.

"Why the ceiling?" Emmanuel inquired, his head towards the humanoid figure clad in the same white and tattered dress.

"It's the only way my hair is out of my face," grumbled the creature on all fours, clinging to the ceiling. Indeed, the stringy cobweb of dark hair was dangling freely due to being upside down, creating a waterfall of hair.

"Are you done with your freak attacks?" Emmanuel leaned against the door frame of the bathroom.

The demon did not respond immediately. Though, when it did, it curtly said, "Yes. Sorry."

Emmanuel let his breath pass between his dry lips in a sigh. He closed the toilet seat and motioned the demon to clamber off of the ceiling.

"Sit on the toilet, back towards me," he instructed. The demon awkwardly obliged. Slipping two rubber bands onto his wrist and picking up Peyton's hairbrush, Emmanuel faced the demon.

"Hannah, I thought I told you not to bother me at night," Emmanuel admonished, gathering the demon's hair in one hand.

"I fell down the stairs sometime around noon because I slipped on my hair," Hannah put forth. "I wasn't about to repeat the same mistake at midnight. I don't need your mother to abandon her bed and go running around the house. Her face without those cosmetic formulas is more appalling that my own; I needed my hair done again."

"I don't get why your hair is always in these horrible tangles," grunted Emmanuel while struggling to drive the hairbrush through Hannah's long hair.

"Ow! My scalp is old and fragile! Please be careful!"

The rest of Hannah's hair styling continued in silence. During this struggle to fully untangle the British demon's hair, Emmanuel began to reminisce on the morning after his first encounter with Hannah. It was a similar one to last night—Hannah had been in the bathroom when Emmanuel walked in on her scavenging through the hair drawers. Emmanuel has already encountered previous dead people by then but still, the moment of meeting someone that's suppose to be buried six feet under was not one to get use to. Emmanuel had given a slight nod of his head (for curtesy) to Hannah before leaving the bathroom wordlessly. The following morning, Hannah had returned to the bathroom to find a hairbrush, bobby pins, and several hair ties already set on the counter as if someone were waiting for her to return. It wasn't even ten minutes before Hannah had gone whining to Emmanuel with several snapped rubber bands and her hair resembling a Christmas tree. Emmanuel had supposed Hannah did not attack him when he walked in non her because his famous name and "ability" among the dead had already reached her.

"And...done," Emmanuel announced, stepping back from the French braid he had completed. Hannah's water-worn hands traced the bumps of the braid between her fingertips in awe and then draped it over her shoulder so she could further inspect the easy masterpiece.

"Thank you," Hannah murmured. "I still can't decipher how you get my war-waging hair into a braid."

"Hard work, yes, but believe it or not, I had to teach my sister how to braid hair," Emmanuel admitted, returning the hairbrush to it's rightful drawer.

Hannah hopped off the toilet and limped towards the counter in front of Peyton's makeup. "And now, for my favorite part." Hannah flashed Emmanuel a crooked grin, revealing an unsightly set of teeth. Emmanuel supposed that even demons could have low self-esteems; Hannah's waterlogged face from drowning was her biggest insecurity.

"Yeah, yeah, don't use all of the foundations, though. And don't eat the lipstick. I had a hard time explaining to Peyton that raccoons liked bright red stuff," Emmanuel apprised. "I'm going to go make breakfast. You can come downstairs if you like; we'll be alone together for about two days."

Emmanuel was halfway out of the door when Hannah called, "Oh, and Manny? Don't think that my lack of serious attempts to kill you means I've forgotten about claiming your soul."

Emmanuel paused with one hand on the door frame before listlessly replying, "Yeah, of course."

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a/n: oh my god this was a rollercoaster i'm so sorry the plot was so bleh it's jumping all over the place.

to be completely honest, i don't know if i like where this book is heading but i wanted to just publish something. i know this chapter wasn't funny but i just feel like i'm losing sight on my plans for this book, oops.