Page 121 of Devil Inside

“More wine, please,” we ask.

“Too late. Tapped out.” Jordan tosses the bottle. It shatters against the statue. Glass rains down.

There it is. His darkness. See how it shines.

We rest our head on his stomach, both of us facing the sky. This dead Confederate looms over us, the man from the monument staring out into the distance. His time has come and gone, while the people of this city choose to remember him. Honor him. How strange. False idols.

There is a lull in our meal where we merely bask, resting next to each other in the sun. The faint lull of traffic passes us by. Jordan shifts his position. Our head rests in his lap.

“What’s the most wicked thing you’ve ever done?” we ask.

“Ever?”He considers this for a spell. “Hard to say.”

“Because you’ve done so many terrible things?”

“No... It’s not that. I guess I’ve always wanted to believe I was a good person.”

“Why?”

“Doesn’t everybody? Deep down?”

“Not us.”

“If only I’d met you sooner...” He leans in, the distance between us dwindling.

Our lips meet. We close our eyes. We wish to be in the darkness when we taste him. Savor him. Every last bit. The sweetness. The salt. What a meal this man makes.

“Where’s your line, Jordan? Your morality?”

“Still trying to find it,” he says between kisses.

“Will you cross it? With me?”

“What if I can’t?”

“Such wasted potential,” I say. “You could be a serial killer by now.”

Jordan pulls back. He is looking—staring—down at us. What is he looking for?

Me. He’s trying to find me.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry... This is... It’s just strange.”

“What?”

“It’s you, but... it’s not.”

“Who else am I?”

“You know what I mean... It’s not you.”

“But I’m right here.”

“Yeah, but on the outside... this part isn’t you.”

“I thought you’d like this. I picked her just for you.”