Page 93 of Devil Inside

Isn’t that what you really, truly want? Of course it is. It’s written all over your heart.

Go ahead.

I’ve never understood why people don’t act upon their impulses. Their desires. Why is everyone always so afraid? What’s holding you back? Morality? Virtue? Righteousness?

Don’t you find decency to be a bit boring? The grit of integrity gets caught in between your teeth, like sand. All these laws. You’ve constricted yourself with ethics, and for what?

To go to heaven one day? To get your wings?

You’re afraid. That’s what this is, isn’t it? You’re afraid at the thought that there’s nothing beyond this very moment, nothing beyondnow, nothing beyond your flesh and the feelings prickling within, your desires, your hunger, your abundant lust, so you’ve girded yourself in with morality. You’ve fabricated these fantasies of what being a good little girl gets you. Spend your whole life with a heart of gold and you’ll get a halo over your head.

It’s a fucking dunce cap, is what it is.

What if I told you there is no heaven? What if this life is all there is? There is no prize for purity. When this life—yourpitiful existence—is over, done, lights out,buh-bye, there’s nothing but the abyss. An ocean of regret. All theshoulda-coulda-wouldas to drown in.

Now, Laura. All you have is now. This moment. This very breath. Once you’ve spent it,poof, you’ll never ever get it back.

So live a little. Live a lot.

A whole fucking lot.

You know what I’m talking about. I know you do. Just look at yourself, Laura. Look at your life. How empty it is. How vapid your existence is. You spend your empty days inside your empty house, in your empty bedroom, staring out the window, just waiting for the next hour to pass. And the next. Your schedule is regimented by your mother’s medications.

You’re in hell already, whether you know it or not. Your soul simply has to catch up.

Might as well have some fun until then, yes?

What I’m offering you is a chance to act upon your impulses. No more hiding in the shadows like a timid little church mouse. No more fantasies.

Take action, sweetie. Take Michael by the hand. Take him on a tour of your house. Take whatever room you want. Take him to bed. Take him.Take... Take... Take.Don’t be afraid. Don’t wait for the world to offer you what you want. What you deserve. Justtake.

This world owes you nothing. You don’t need to save your soul for the next life. Bruise it. It tastes so much better when you’ve gone through the wringer.

I wonder what Jordan wants. Does he even know? He confuses us, his search for salvation. As if he’ll find it. He’s seen what’s waiting for him—what’s waiting for you all—and his solution is to renege on his damnation. As if he can take it all back. Be a good boy.

He’s taken a dip in the abyss.

He’s seen me. My kind. What we are without the façade offlesh and bone. No masks, no pretense... just us, laid bare. Exposed and hungry. That’s what he’s running from.

Me.

He says he wants to see me. To strip away this skin and show him who I really am. No mask, no other face to hide behind.

Just me.

But... is that what he really wants? Does he even know what he’s asking me to do?

What if he doesn’t like what he sees?

What if he’s afraid?

Of me?

All this time, I thought I knew what I wanted. It’s been simple enough to drift for decades, passing from one vessel to the next. Sample, never settle. Never sink inside too deep. We’ve gone on wine-tasting tours of humanity, and let me just say, there have been some wonderful years for depravity. Whenever there’s a war, or destruction on a massive scale, it’s like the bumper crop for bruised souls. They make for the best vintage vessels.

Who would ever want to settle? To stay inside one host? When there’s so much out there to experience? To taste, to coerce, to drive into the ground? It’s absurd, if you ask me, to commit to one skin. A life sentence of tedium. A never-ending itch. Been there, suffered through that, and let me tell you, once was enough. I swore I’d never go through that again.

Sorry—you didn’t ask.