Page 19 of Devil Inside

Lilith starts to spin, so I start to spin.

Our hands keep their grip, holding each other tight, as we both lean back and twirl, going against the rotation of the mosh pit, creating our own oppositional flow.

We’re spinning...

Spinning...

Spinning...

And I pray to God, pray to something, that I never stop. Never let go of her.

Never. I don’t ever want to stop spinning...

Spinning...

Spinning...

Suddenly everything goes silent. The music drops out. The maelstrom still moves around us, but I can’t help but feel an odd stillness in the very center of the dance floor.

It’s just me and Lilith in the heart of all this violence. She leans into me and presses her lips against mine. The heat seething from her body rushes over me and I succumb to it.

I let go. Give in. Give her everything.

night on the town

Lilith

The night is mine.

Ours.

Feel this skin. A glove of muscle and bone. It gives us sensation. The ability to touch.

Taste.

We wish to tasteeverything. Honey on our tongue. The burn of liquor in our throat. All this city has to offer. It’s been far too long. Now we’re free. The delirious need to partake overwhelms us, to experience every possible pleasure, leaving us dizzy in this blissful skin.

I won’t be tied down again, trapped in another dead-end vessel. Not like last time.

Never again.

Even now I can feel the itch. That prison of skin. How it felt to be locked behind those bones. In that decaying body. Such an insult to our prowess. An absolute blasphemy.

To be trapped, like that, for so long, inside someone no one dared to touch.

Wasting away. Wasting our potential.

Our gift.

Not tonight. Tonight—we’ll cling to this skin for as long asit suits us. A full-bodied malbec. Dark fruit flavors. A smoky finish. Deep color. Robust tannins. Just a hint of spice. There’s a darkness within her, faint but present, the slightest shadows gathering in the corners of her soul.

She’s a healthy one. No addictions, no diseases. Just a delirious need to live. She wants to be loved.

Don’t we all, darling?

We are dancing, dancing in a sea of swaying bodies. We are ready to press ourselves to the very precipice of ecstasy. The sensation of saints.

Not much time. Not nearly enough strength. So rusty. This skin will suffice. For now.