Bad Influence (Seven Deadly Sins #2) ✅ Completed

Chapter Two: Waking Up Sucks

“That would have been a very risky gamble,” Dante said, his face somber yet thoughtful. I could see him working through it in his mind, putting together the pieces even quicker than I had. I’d had to be knocked out for my brain to make the connections – Dante didn’t seem to suffer from my inability to connect the dots in a conscious state however.

“Yeah, but she played me like a dim-witted violin. I did exactly what she wanted me to. God, what a witch,” I said, looking around the room for the first time. “Where am I, anyway?”

“Celeste’s old bedroom,” Dante replied.

My eyes cut around the room again, taking it all in this time. It was large, with freshly painted cream walls, new carpet, nice furniture and even a plasma TV on the wall. Nothing like the gargantuan one Dante had in his room, but one I would’ve never been able to buy myself for years to come.  

“I don’t remember this room,” I said, knowing I hadn’t seen anything this nice the one and only time I’d been on her floor.

“That's because it wasn't here before. I built it for you.”

I started. Besides the fact that Dante had done something unbelievable nice for me (which was hard enough to believe), how long had I been out?

“Three days,” he answered, not even waiting for me to speak my question aloud.

That was a little annoying, but I was too tired to even care. Instead, I tried to swing my legs over the edge of the bed and managed to get it done on my second try.

“I wouldn’t if I were you.”

“Wouldn’t what?”

“Get up.”

“And why not, Mr. Smartyp…” I didn’t even get to finish my smart-alecky comeback because at that moment I yelled like someone was ripping my skin off with a pair of rusty pliers. I fell flat on my face, the pain in my feet, legs and back so intense I couldn’t even bring myself to do anything but breathe in pathetic, little whimpers.

Thank God the carpet was new. It was pretty thick too.

Dante sighed heartily, as if I was purposefully being a major pain in the neck even though I was the one that was dying all over again, at his feet no less.

“You’re not dying.”

It sure felt like I was flipping dying.

“I can assure you, you are not dying, Eliza. Stubborn, obtuse, and overly dramatic yes, but not dying.”   

The second I was able to stand without screaming I was going to punch Dante in his perfectly gorgeous face.

He almost laughed, “You can try.”

“Stop reading my mind!” I hissed between my teeth. I’m sure he would’ve been intimidated if my glare was aimed at his head instead of the floor.

“Stop being so ridiculous then.” He bent down and helped me to my feet before setting me back in bed. “Your body needs time to heal and adjust to your burden,” he added.

“What burden?”

Dante looked at me and for the life of me I couldn’t fathom what he was thinking. After a few seconds he turned and left and came back holding a large mirror.

“Sit up,” he instructed, walking around me to the far side of the bed.

I eased myself into a sitting position. He held the mirror out in front of him, staring down at me. “Lift up your shirt,” he ordered.  

“What?” I choked out.

"Nice to see that Lust is still asleep,” Dante said rolling his eyes, “lift up the back of your shirt and take a look.”

I eyed him warily as I lifted the back of my shirt, turning around so my back was reflected in the mirror. Part of me wondered if Spring Dawn would pop in to say hi, but any thought of the little ghost that helped save my bacon in the wicked fight I’d had with Aunt Celeste fled the second I caught sight of my reflection. If my voice hadn’t decided to bolt like the coward she was I would’ve screamed again.

Black, wicked looking swirls were burned across my entire upper back and shoulders in a pattern that was too complicated for my eyes to follow. They looked like old, black iron spikes bent into some form of geometric pattern that would’ve been pretty if it weren’t stamped all over my skin. If looking at them from a distance they appeared almost tattoo-like, but up close it was clear the design was seared deep into my flesh. The skin was still puffed up and raw looking around what was definitely a humongous brand.  

“Don’t look at it for too long, Eliza,” Dante warned. When I didn’t say anything his voice grew even graver, which was kind of scary, “It’s a door.”

“Door?” was all I could manage to squeak out.

“To Hell – it’s how Asher will find you no matter where you go.”

My mouth grew so dry I wondered if I’d ever be able to make spit again, “I’m in the doorway to Hell?”

“No.” His face grew tight as he continued, “You are the doorway to Hell. So do yourself a favor and don’t look at it too often. You don’t want to open it.”

“Open it?” I couldn’t even get enough air into my lungs to make my brain work properly.

Dante lowered the mirror and thankfully I was saved from looking at my back anymore. He gave me another long look, “Opening the door to Hell is something you do not want to have happen. Besides dying horribly and damning your eternal soul forever, you’ll take anyone standing in your immediate area with you.”          

“With me?” I repeated like an idiot.

“To Hell,” Dante reaffirmed, before turning to leave the room.

God, why was my life such utter insanity all the freaking time?

Waking up sucked.

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*A/N:

Song Credit: Awake and Alive - Skillet

Image: The tattoo image is something like what I imagine appears on Eliza's back now. In my brain she has more whirls and wicked looking spikes, but I thought this image was still pretty cool (and a decent rendition of what I had in mind when I wrote this chapter).