You had found a table in one of the corners of Lux for yourself and the detective to sit and talk. You had walked to the bar and grabbed two drinks, one for yourself and one soft drink for the detective.
You tried to give as little information as you dared, just enough that it didn't trigger anything or send you back to the memories too deeply. You didn't want to recall what had happened to you during that time. You didn't want to relive it. You could tell the detective was getting frustrated at your lack of cooperation, but you honestly couldn't bring yourself to relive any of it.
You'd have thought that for being raised in hell, this wouldn't phase you, but the truth was, showing people their worst fears, their biggest regrets, their worst moments, that was child's play compared with going through it yourself. You felt you had some form of new found empathy for the tortured souls of hell.
The detective's phone beginning to ring pulled you out of your reverie. The detective said "uh-huh" and "of course" very officially, so you could only assume that it was most definitely a work call and not her miniature human calling. You tried to distract yourself with people watching in the club when the detective apologising pulled you back to the conversation.
"Sorry about that, new boss and everything, just trying to check-up on how the interview is going" she waved her hand as if swatting an imaginary fly away as she was saying the last part.
"It's fine detective, if you don't mind I have to at least attempt to fix and sell my apartment.". You got up as you were finishing your sentence. The detective looked surprised at first then shook her head, "oh, of course, I won't hold you back any longer, but please do keep your phone on. I may need to talk to you again regarding this." You smiled and nodded your head towards the detective slightly before heading back towards the door.
Once you had gotten outside you suddenly realised how hard it was too catch a breath inside, how claustrophobic it had been. You placed one hand on the side of the building and the other on your leg as you bent over and tried to catch your breath and hold it together. To try and keep yourself present.
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Your apartment was still in tatters. It took everything you had to steel yourself and open the door. The damage done by your wings, coupled with the whatever damage was done in the struggle almost immediately following, and finally the mess the LAPD had made when they were 'searching for clues' when you had disappeared, you didn't know where to begin. Instead you went to what was left of your mini bar and poured yourself a large glass of whatever bottle was intact and sat on your couch.
As soon as you made contact feathers and stuffing from the couch flew up into the air. You threw your hands up in despair and sighed, throwing your head back and covering your face with your hands and screaming into them.
CITEȘTI
Crooked Angel
FanfictionWhat if Lucifer Morningstar had a daughter who had the same relationship with him that he had with God? What if she was also in Los Angeles?
