Devil's Plaything

Noah and Adam and Aiden

Charlie's dorm room looked more like a hotel suite. It was twice the size of the room Mira shared with Marci. The walls were not built with the same brick sloppily painted over with a shade of Hospital White of which Mira was accustomed. Instead, they were a tranquil Sea Green. Charlie had decorated her room with fairy lights that hung above a California King sized bed adorned with white silk sheets. There was not so much as a pen lying on her oak desk or a piece of clothing on the floor—the room was in immaculate condition.

"What's that smell?" Marci asked, lingering by the door as Mira and Charlie stepped further into the room. She clutched the small bag of belongings she had scrambled together before she had come here.

Charlie turned to her, her red hair all the more striking as it contrasted starkly with the green of her room. The visual reminded Mira of a perfume advertisement she saw once in an old magazine. "Possibly my homeopathic mist machine." Mira must have looked surprised because Charlie's eyes narrowed on her and she crossed her arms defensively. "I'm not a savage, you know."

Mira considered pointing out that she was not a savage either, but that didn't mean she owned a homeopathic mist machine. She decided against it and instead asked, "Why is your room so much...?" She tried searching for a word.

"Better?" Charlie supplied as she moved over to her bed and took off her flats. She lifted her bed skirt and placed them neatly under her bed, out of sight.

Mira followed her lead, putting her own shoes next to Charlie's. Charlie's eyes lingered on them like she was bothered by the fact that they were slightly crooked. Marci stared at them from her spot by the door as if they were both ridiculous.

"Well, I was going to say 'bigger', but that descriptor works as well," Mira said to cover the silence.

Charlie settled down on her bed, propping her back on her pillows. "I have very rich foreign parents," she said. "So, I live in a dorm filled with rich foreign brats like me."

Mira laughed and sat at the foot of her bed. She tucked her overnight bag underneath her and looked at Marci, who was stubbornly waiting by the door. Mira subtlety gestured for her to join them.

"Either you're all on drugs or I've gone insane. I'm not sitting anywhere until I find out which one is reality," Marci informed them evenly.

Charlie laughed and Mira gave her a warning look that she expertly ignored. "It would be interesting if we were all figments of your imagination. I mean, I remember my eighth birthday party—how fascinating would it be if a mere figment could have that sense of identity?" She picked at her nails, not bothering to glance up during the silence that ensued.

"That sounds exactly like something a figment would say," Marci exclaimed, incredulous. "Oh god, I am crazy. My parents are going to be such dicks about it." She spoke the second sentence as if it was more devastating than the first.

Mira was prepared to assure her that she wasn't crazy, that everything about this was real. But she was distracted momentarily as she recalled the various times she had also thought none of this was reality. Charlie sighed and sat up straighter, leveling her gaze at Marci. "Even if none of this is real, you still have to go through it." Mira raised a hand to object but Charlie quickly continued. "I'm serious. Think whatever you want to, we can't really convince you otherwise. Either you're crazy, we're on drugs, or your roommate sold her soul to a demon she eye-fucks. No matter what, you're screwed and have to deal with this."

Mira knew her blush had returned in full. "Thanks for that," she murmured sarcastically. Marci was watching her now. Mira didn't like the way her gaze seared its way into her thoughts.