Borrowing God

Open The Door

Chapter two of

Borrowing God

By Aurora2

     The few days after Satan had left were surprisingly normal. I went to my college classes, came home to my wonderful boy friend Bryan, and started working at my uncle's store. He had offered a pretty decent job, selling clothes and shoes. Even though i wasn't much of a shopper, my fashion sense was perfect and that's the main reason why he had hired me. "Russell's Clothing" was becoming a hit store, and i knew that my salary would be doubling in only a few short months. Smiling at the prospect of more money in my wallet, i parked my car in the garage and slowly made my way inside. The sound of sports and Brian's angry huffs instantly put a smile on my face. Setting down my purse, i hurried to the living room and plopped down beside him on the light brown love-seat. A larger couch sat perpendicular to the one we sat on now, though it was the same color brown. Our walls were a simple white, a few picture frames here and there but other than that, we were plain people.

       "Hey babe," Bryan sighed, putting his muscular arm around me and kissing my cheek tenderly. Smile softening, i leaned my head against the man i loved so much. We had been dating since our Sophomore year of high school, and surprisingly were still together. Bryan and i had most definately defied the odds of teenage relationship,. even our parents were against us moving into a house together. But with Bryan being manager of a popular store in Jacksonville,  -to which was ran by his father before the man retired- we never ran out of money.

     Snapping out of my thoughts, i murmured a quiet greeting before closing my eyes tiredly and letting a wave of sleep overtake me.

        "You've got to be kidding me," Bryan yelled at the tv, throwing one hand up in exasperation. "You could have made that touch down!"  

        "Bryan,"  I mumbled, cuddling closer to his side, "They can't hear you silly."  I looked up at him just in time to see a grin flash across his gorgous face. His light brown, curly hair was cut short -almost reaching his ears- and wet from a recent shower. Pale blue eyes looked down into mine as he raised his hand and stroked my cheek. I smiled lovingly as he leaned closer, glancing at my lips briefly. Inches apart, i closed my eyes, ready to feel his warmth against mine.

Knock Knock Knock

    Bryan groaned loudly, obviously upset about the ruined moment. Sighing, he heaved himself off the couch and made his way to the door. I watched him go, longing for the moment when the person on our porch would leave and he could come back. "Who are you?" My boy friend demanded suspiciously, one hand on the door tensely.

     "I am here to talk to Camilla," The person stated, his tone silky smooth and confident in everyway. I jumped to my feet instantly, hair standing up on the back of my neck and palms beginning to sweat. There was no mistaking the man's voice.

Satan.

     "You've got to be kidding me," Bryan shouted at the tv, throwing one hand up in annoyance. "You could have made that touch down!"

      I was now thoroughly awake, thanks to my boy friends yelling. "Bryan," I mumbled, cuddling closer to his side, "They can't hear you silly." With sudden realization, the truth hit me like a lightning bolt. Memories of the dream i just woke up from ran through my mind in a frenzy.

Knock Knock Knock

     Bryan groaned, running one hand through his hair and getting up off the couch. I followed quickly, grabbing his arm in a state of panic. "Don't answer it!"

     My boy friend cocked an eyebrow, pulling away from me gently, "Why not?"

     "Because he-" I stopped short, eyes wide and palms sweating from fear. The dream came flooding back again and i stared at the door in horror. Every instinct i possessed screamed at me to run but my legs had turned to stone. No words came out and soon the knocking came again, luring Bryan toward the door. As soon as his hand reached the doorknob, i took a few stumbling steps back, nearly crashing over onto the coffee table behind me.

     "Who are you?" My boy friend asked curiously, his tone polite yet demanding at the same time. He glanced back over at me swiftly, one hand on the door and eyes reflecting his confusion at my actions.

    "I'm here to talk to Camilla."