Dancing with the Devil

Thomastown,Louisiana
Population: 311

It was the first weekend of August and by 7am it was already seventy degrees, warning locals it would be a hot one. Night shifters arriving home with prayers in sighs of exhaustion; being sure to drag their baskets of produce inside. The heatwave must've gotten to Mr. Levi Garret since he started dropping everyone's orders late in the evening instead of during the midday hours like he used to. The townsfolk didn't mind, considering he was getting older. But there was talk that a 20-something year-old guy named Warren would be working as a farmhand soon. How Mr. Levi Garret managed  12 acres of land with produce and maintaining it all on his own was beyond understanding. And with the name like "Running Deer Farms", it had to be a challenge. The name was fitting, since the deer were in fact a problem. But somehow he made it work.

It was 10 AM by the time Lula began to stir. The steady hum of her window unit, music to her ears. She was sure her mother was pre-menopausal, refusing to keep the air conditioning on (at least during the night) but kept oscillating fans around that she would casually turn off and on. Maybe her mother hated her, since there were times she'd be home earlier than usual from work, and there will be a noticeably cool sensation as soon as she walked in; with only one fan on. But it only lasted a short time once she made her present known to her mother. Lula wanted to buy something fashionably modern with her last paycheck, but decided to get a window unit instead and putting the rest in her piggy bank. Childish, yes. But she found herself lacking self-control in the last few months. Honestly, probably the past year alone since being uprooted from Mississippi to Louisiana. Not that far, but it's not what she wanted. She was finally finding herself just to be pushed into a place she was unfamiliar with. She knew her mother spent most of her life in Louisiana before bearing children, but she knew her mother planned on going back. But she never knew as a mid-20s adult, she wouldn't have a say in where she'd be going. Maybe that's how parents make you feel like you can't say no. Because they're your parents, and you were raised to do as they said. At least that's what Lula thought when it came to the nature of her relationship with her mother. She was in the middle of a heartbreak, and truly, letting her mother move away in that condition wouldn't sit right with her. A prayer wouldn't settle her nerves or cover her guilt if her mother spun downhill. But that meant seeing all the ugly sides of a heartbreak too. But those ugly sides weren't nothing new.

The sound of chatter and clicking porcelain could be heard down the hall. Lula threw the covers back, the cold air hitting her flesh fully woke her. She looked back at her bed, rolling her eyes at the bonnet she knew wouldn't make it through the night. Her rollers were still as secure as she was going to get them, so there was a good side to it. She contemplated staying in her room longer once she finished her thorough morning regimen. She was looking through her closet for the day's event when she heard the laughter die down in the kitchen to an alarming amount. Almost like a halt. She cracked open the door, listening. She strained, she knew her mom and her friends only accompanied the dining table that was beside the kitchen. There were two doorways that led to this dining room, that felt like a jury room most days. They were too far for her to actually hear. She shrugged and went back to finding her day dress.

"It's been a year since you've been back. How are you feeling about that." Ms.Pearly asked Loretta, Lula's mom. Ms.Pearly, who Lula called her mom's "Messy Bestie" had known  Loretta since they were in grade school. Two peas in a pot. They often spoke about being neighbors and having kids that were also best friends. But Loretta had moved away about two years after marrying and there seemed to be some animosity there. Bitterness. But it's like she blamed Lulu for that, who was too young to even know she existed at the time. Maybe she couldn't bring herself to hate her best friend. If Lula's sister had been here, maybe she'd be giving her the cold shoulder and standoffish remarks as well. But truthfully, if Lula's sister hadn't "run away" they wouldn't be here at all dealing with any of the foolishness in this town. "I'm happy..." Loretta stated "...as far as Lula." She shrugged. "She spends a lot of time away, working. And when she's home, she's always in that room doing God knows what."They all shook their heads. "Are you sure she's just working?" Helen asked with arched eyebrows towards Ms.Pearly, who blushed. "What do you mean?" Loretta asked. "Maybe she's seeing someone." Nellie, the quieter and shy (but still messy) one of the bunch had added. Luella, the chronic eye roller was shuffling through the cookies, visually, before grabbing the oatmeal raisin. "She is 25 after all." "That don't matter." Ms.Pearly said sternly." She should be comfortin' her mom inna time like this." "A bakery like Le Boulangerie  isn't THAT busy. When she's there, she acts like she's a Disney princess, walking on a cloud."Helen added, her fabric store diagonal from Lula's workplace. Helen was a fly-by-night type of gal, but they accepted these pointless statements nonetheless. Statements that completely contradicts a version of Lula told by her mom. "Quiche and eclairs aren't gonna have anyone with that much pep in their step, I know that." The table chuckled a bit more in a scoffing way, Luella found it amusing. "Why she's so happy and you're not? She's not even checkin' on you and you two live unda' the same roof. That's not fair." Ms.Pearly said, her hands squeezing Loretta's. "She doesn't even know anyone." Her mom protested."After a year? Get real." Helen said "She works in a popular place, I'm sure she's met at least one by now." Nellie said. "Popular is definitely in overstatement." Helen added, since she and the owner could never get along. "I don't care what she's doing out there during work hours..." which was a lie she said with her chest. "... but when she's home, she needs to be helpful." Luella shook her head as she picked her teeth with her tongue. "She spends so much time in that damn room. It's like she thinks she's too good for me." But that wasn't it at all, and deep down somewhere in the void of accountability, she knew that she had a lot of anger and resentment towards a lot of things in life; and Lula was her outlet. She always had been, but Lula was finally venturing out and learning to tune out the berating. Just because she was learning not to take the bait for certain things, doesn't mean it wasn't bothering her at all the same. But the non-response felt like defiance to Loretta, who often forgets that Lula was now an adult. She only seen her as that weak teenager who never defended herself against anyone. She was a good kid who had the ability to go as she please, but Loretta needed control of something. And the only thing she had that made her feel powerful, was slipping through her fingers. She was a sadist, but she wasn't aware of it like Lula was. "Do you suspect she's on somethin'? " Helen asked, one of her eyes growing bigger with curiosity as she cocked her head to one side. Everyone else did the same. "Absolutely not." Loretta said without hesitation. Then thought for a second before saying, "She better not be". Luella shrugged."If she was, you'd know. "She said with reassurance. "Right. I would." She spoke with her chest again, feeling like she was reclaiming a certain status. "I wouldn't be too sure if she's hangin' out in that room more than any otha' part of the house." Ms.Pearly said, bringing her back to her version of "reality". "You said yourself she wasn't bein' helpful." "She wouldn't do that." Loretta responded with a little shake in her voice. The more Pearly's voice bounced around her noggin, the more it started to make sense. But regardless of how she treated Lula, she knew what kind of kid she was. But that's just something parents like to assume for comfort. You can have every good intention in mind for a child and they'll still end up a fuck up. And vice versa.

"Maybe she has "more innocent" extracurricular activities that's keeping her held up in there." Nelly suggested as innocent as she could, fighting the urge to say again, "she is 25 after all". Ms.Pearly look displeased when she caught on while the others blushed, giggling into their napkins. Loretta scoffed. "Well I guess that's a lot better than her preoccupying the fridge, maybe that's what's been keeping her busy. "Oh please..." Ms.Pearly scoffed. "... this generation is hypersexual, that would not suffice." She rolled her eyes as she began to sip her sweet tea. "At the very least, I hope she's helpin' pay the bills."

"As a matter fact, I am." A different voice came from the kitchen doorway, making the table gasp, some heads jerking over to Lula, with sinking bellies; wondering how long she had been there. She was wearing a knee-length night gown with the lace trimming on the breasts, and her rollers now handling loosely like she had been shaking her head disapprovingly. "This will be the first and only time I'm going to say this I don't need to be a whore to make ends meet. I do just find at Le Boulangerie." Her French sounded erotic. "You want to talk about hypersexuality in this generation, you'll need to start with your own generation. Ya'know... keep your problems within the Family." She said with a sneer. "I don't know what you're gettin' at girl..." Ms.Pearly's voice grotesque and wounded. "Only a hit dog hollers." Lula said before Ms.Pearly had anything else to add. "It's just..." Luella began. "... you hadn't been here long, and your mother just once was best for you, since...your sister. She just wants you to stay here and make better decisions." "Pure?" Lula's voice deep. "Like... all of you?" She pointed a finger as she looked around the table at them, one by one. Helen was the only one with her nose in the air, Ms.Pearly looking ready for the next insult. No one said anything. "I find it interesting that y'all have enough problems to share amongst each other, as well as the neighbors, but would rather sit around the table and discuss me." "Watch it now girl." Ms.Pearly said, putting her cup down. "You're the worst one." Lula continued, and her mother began to feel defensive. "You're like that little devil on Mama's shoulder. Always tryin' to get her to do and say some nasty things towards me. Fillin' her head up with things you know nothing about. And you wonder why your own kids don't bother to visit." Ms.Pearly had whipped her heard over to Loretta, who saw this in the corner of her eye. "Now that's enough." Loretta stood, the sense of embarrassment creeping up on her. "No!" Lula's voice boomed into the dining area, but she stayed firmly put in the kitchen. She was calm, her hand up and resting on the wall and the other on her hip, but now she was physically protesting. "For years, you made me feel ashamed to be in my own body. There's always something wrong with me according to you. I can never do anything right, but you're always needing me. It's like you want me to fail just so you can have something to say. You NEVER liked me." The table was now looking at Loretta, who stood firm, face tight, but no words. "I don't care what the rest of you think about me. I don't even know y'all. But you got a lot to say about me. Sitting around the table, congregating me like I'm the town's pump!" Nellie's eyes stayed down as the rest looked into their cups.

"You want to make me out to be some lollygagger or bone-loafer like I'm not the person cooking and cleaning while you sit at the window, as if  you're waitin' on someone to show up." That stung Loretta and Lula knew. But regret, she did not. "Say what you want about me, but I'm a damn good person. I've been good to you and you know it." Loretta sat back down, but refusing to turn correctly in her seat, not ready to face Helen or Ms.Pearly, who is beside her. "Pure." She stated again. This time, letting the smirk form as she looked back-and-forth at Helen and Ms.Pearly. God forbid a woman's satisfies her own flesh...." flesh being thick with oozing black tar "...without a bunch of lesbians making her out to be unclean." She kept talking, knowing her lesbian remark wasn't set in truth, but on a whim since the best way to fight messy is messier. "If a man was involved, you'd still have somethin' to say. But it's just me. You can judge me all you want, call me a sinner with all your might; but I'm the happiest one in this room right now." She walked over to the refrigerator and grabbed a bottle of Grapefruit Refresh. "Just a bunch of sinners, judgin' other sinners for sinnin' differently." She took her leave, closing her door loud enough for them to hear.

She sat on her bed, realizing she had more to say, especially to her mom's comment about the refrigerator. But she was still learning to not respond to certain things considering that the table was full of full- figure women. But she believe she got her point across. The women silently ate and consume their beverages until Luella broke the silence about Mr Levi's new farmhand . A conversation that didn't progress beyond "who is it going to be?" to mumbles of understanding. It seems they didn't have much to talk about if it wasn't dragging someone's name through the mud.

Not an hour later, Lula exits her bedroom, seeing that for the first time that they have moved to the living room. They were laughing, playing cards when her mom spoke. "That's a nice dress you got on."Ms.Pearly took a squinted eyed drag off her cigarette (another reason Lula disliked her company) eye her up and down. Lula was wearing a vintage-style dress (circa 1930's, the women figured) that was a soft maroon color. Square neck with short puffy sleeves with three white just-for-decoration  buttons in the front. It was calves-length and loose on the hips, but you knew they were there. You couldn't miss them, and they told no lies. Not caring to make a fashion statement, l she took a blue satin clutch bag (not caring that it didn't match) tucked under her armpit. Although her curls didn't hold on some parts, she still look damn good. They would never tell her that though. Especially Ms.Pearly. "That was too nice of a name for such a hag", Lula remembered randomly throughout the week. "Thank you..." Lula forced a smile, feeling her mom's compliment wasn't truly a compliment. They never were. It was usually a punch line waiting after Lula's naivety. "... it's one of Miss Benita's old dresses she tailored it for me." Her hand was on the doorknob during this entire exchange, so as soon as she was done, she exited the house. She sat there for a few minutes and silence again before going back to their cards. They all dislikes Miss Benita, hated her even. Miss Benita was the type to call you out right as you did something. And she could be nasty about it. She overall was a good person, she just didn't do gossip. She knew how damaging it was and dangerous it could be when false information got into the wrong hands. And Lula reminded her of her younger self. Miss Benita's house was just a few houses down and around the corner, but she always took her time getting there. She wasn't sure what the rest of Louisiana looked like or even Thomastown, but her neighborhood looked something straight out of "Leave it to Beaver" but with more dirt roads. The homes were undoubtably built no later than the 40s and most of the cars parked in driveways or she seen driving past work,  were no older than 80s models. Even after a year living there, she always felt like she was in a different time when she went for a walk. Her being the youngest person, at least on her side of town, made the feeling a bit odd since she seemed to be the only one out at times. But it was quiet, so no complaints there.

Lula saw a familiar wooden basket next to the door and a familiar logo on it. Running Deer Farms. Inside were peaches, she saw when she ascended the stairs. She reached down and gently squeezed one. Perfection. They were soft, and a sweet fragrance was emanating off them when she picked it up like a chunky baby and perched the basket on her hip before knocking. Miss Benita was in her 60s, but she got around real good. She was at the door in no time, grinning ear to ear. Her eyes went to the basket in Lula's hands. "That damn Levi. At least he's getting them here on time. He used to knock and bring them in, now he leaves them at the doorstep. Aint that somethin'?" "Well hopefully they'll change with the new help I heard he's getting pretty soon." Lula said, placing them near the kitchen sink. "Oh yeah, that's right." Miss Benita said "He left an envelope in the delivery before. Apologizin' 'bout the inconvenience lately and that he'll be gettin' help soon. Hopefully someone young and full of spunk and actually doing their job..." She stopped suddenly, looking at Lula, who stood with her hand on her hip and one in the sink. "My... goodness. You're wearin' it." Lula smiled bit, nearly forgetting herself. "It looks better than I could have imagine." Her lips slightly parted as she shuffled over to her with open arms. Lula chuckled as she prepared for a hug and they embrace, her chin resting on Miss Benita's hair. "You're so beautiful. "Miss Benita's compliment breaking her and healing her all at once. She felt whole around her. And a slight ting of guilt because she wished her mother was like her. She dreaded going back home after spending a day or even two hours with Miss Benita. But she didn't want to think that far ahead. She just wanted to be in the moment "I was in the middle of sortin' through some things and found something of mine I was just thinkin' of wearin' out." She began, looking up into Lula's dark brown eyes as she held both biceps in a motherly way "I was going to a couple stores. Would you like to accompany me?" She had this glint in her eyes, hopeful Lula wouldn't be too busy to say yes. "Of course." Lula said in a how-dare-you-ask-me-that-of-course-I-do tone."I'm actually doing something fun tonight and wanted to head over to the thrift store and see if I can find somethin' to go with what I already have in mind." "Then it's settled..." Miss Benita swished the air with her excited finger before shuffling away. "...we'll do that first. Rinch them peaches off for me will ya baby? I'm makin' cobbler when we get back." "Yes ma'am." Lula began to rinse the peaches as she smiled to  herself. Today's going to be a good day.

"You're going to mess up your pretty hair baby." Miss Benita said to Lula, who was resting her head on her arm, that was on the car door, the wind pushing her hair around. "It's okay..." she said with a smile as the buildings passed by, her focus only on the road ahead. The feeling of guilt for wanting to stay gone from her home creeping up the way she did on the gossip group just earlier; but she was determined to keep it down. She wanted to feel free, and today felt like the closest thing to it. "... I messed up somethin' with the rollers, maybe my tension technique, so I'll need to fix it before tonight. She brought her head back into the Lincoln, not wanting the outside smell mixing with her perfume. "If you tell me what look you're goin' for, I can help ya'. I have some magnetic rollers. The heated ones will probably work best in a pinch. You forget, I used to work in a salon with my mama as a youngin'." "I did!" Lula was showing all her pearly whites. "Do you have one of those magazines layin' around with the old hairstyles to choose from?" "Sure do." Miss Benita said proudly. Lula clasped her palms on her knees. "Okay." She said with a sigh, still smiling. The day was getting better and better.

Reclaimed Treasures

"What do you have to work with so far?" Miss Benita asked as they entered the thrift store that always smelled like incense. "It's really a basic black dress. Ankle length with spaghetti straps, but a hard v-cut wire in the middle that helps keep everythang in." She gestured with her hands, emphasizing her top heavy situation. "So maybe a belt, somethin' to dress it up. If I see a different dress that catches my attention that would be great as well." As they wandered around the decently size shop, Lulua's mind began to wander again. Something that made her smile to herself, nearly laughing. "Pure." She said as she touched a white dress she figured was a slip to a wedding gown. She hadn't been pure since she was 19. Far from a whore and far from pure. She had given herself to a boy named Samuel, who she had gone to church with. He had developed a talent for cunning linguistics and to her own surprise, she was more than a willing participant. A guinea pig, if you will. Eventually, it became a weekly thing for them to have horizontal refreshments. Besides that, she cared for him deeply. That's why it hurt when he moved away to New York to start a new life. He wanted Chicago first, but "Chicago isn't big enough for me" she recalled him saying. She thought about him all the time, but he wasn't active online much and his phone stopped ringing. "Nothing personal" she had told herself. He had big dreams and didn't need small town things and flings clouding his vision. He'll pop up one day, maybe a movie director, an actor, something important like that. There was a guy she met after Sam's departure, but his biscuits wasn't done in the middle, so she opted out before it was too late. "Self-indulgence keeps you from lying with the wrong one" she wrote in her journal once and she was right. She rounded the corner and hanging on an endcap was a scarf. It was red, satin, and blue and gold designs that didn't take over the red too much. It was nearly grazing the floor, although it was hung chest level to her. She took it into her hands and let it slip off with ease. She looked at the price tag. $1.95. "Really? "She thought, immediately removing it off the hanger it was clipped to and tossing it over her shoulder. She knew what she would do with it. There were endless possibilities, but she knew what she wanted tonight. She found Miss Benita over by the cookbooks, the Vermilion red scarf looking like a red sea in her hands. Miss Benita looked hypnotized by it. "I think I have what I need." She said, not realizing she passed so many dancing dresses on her way over to; not a care in the world. Just pure excitement.

On their way back from the grocery store they passed by Le Boulangerie, which was right next door to Fleur d'Amour. A man by the name of Laurence Aubert owns it and it's been up and running for three decades now. It was always just him for a while until more people began moving there and requesting his bouquets, and his place became more popular. Then he began to hire help. Those employees would move on (except for one, Trudy because she found a steady living for herself there) finding more sustainability in places bigger than this small dusty one. But the recent hire had...vanished. She had been there six months, give or take, when one day she just stopped coming. Laurence had said she was always bubbly, came to work on time, even worked overtime just because. Her absence without communication, took him and Trudy aback. "Hey, did I mention that Laurence has been begging me to come work for him and his flower shop. He thinks I'll be perfect for business." Lula smiled, but the thought of two jobs sounded too much for her. She did consider part-time at least. It was closed on Sundays and she didn't work Saturdays, but he did. So, maybe just Saturdays? She thought  to herself when considering it. "With a name like Lula Rose, I agree." Miss Benita smiled at her while also excited about baking when she got home. You would think being given such a pretty name by her mother, she'd be treated better. But it's just a name obviously. "I didn't catch the name of that girl that suddenly stopped coming." Lula's voice less flattered and more serious. "Sherry..." Miss Benita said. "... and they believe she actually went missin' ." Lula looked at her. "She didn't show up for work the next day, and before Laurence called her home, her parents called him. She lived with her parents ya' see, and sometimes she went home much later than her clock out time. So her parents didn't fret none when it was time for bed and she hadn't made it home yet. Well, I guess they checked her room later that mornin', and saw it looked like she hadn't came home. Once Laurence knew that, something didn't smell right. There were a couple of flyers, not many, that was posted around town. They were up one day and gone the next, just like that." She says, snapping her fingers. "They found her?" Lula asked, sensing she knew the answer. Miss Benita shook her head. The crazy part is... the cops stopped by two days later, according to The Bennetts, their neighbors; to get more information on their daughter. No answer. The curtains drawn, the car still parked in the driveway, and no noise comin' from inside. They hadn't been heard from since the day they reported Sherry missin'. That was two weeks ago."

Although short, the car ride was quiet. Nothing but the sound of the wind passing through the cracked windows in a Barry White song playing ever so quietly on the radio. "Now don't you go lettin' that get to you. You need to focus on enjoyin' yourself tonight. You're young. Live! Have fun. And just worry later." Miss Benita winked at Lula, the last piece of advice really sticking to her. "Just worry later." Easier said than done. But she was determined. She didn't know the girl personally, but she knew her face. And that seemed to be enough to make the story that more unsettling. To see a happy-go-lucky person who's always on time to nowhere to be found. Even her parents were gone. But Miss Benita was right: Worry later.

They got inside and immediately got to work. While Miss Benita cut up the peaches, Lulu was in the bathroom handwashing the scarf and hanging it on the towel drying rack before going to help Miss Benita in the kitchen. "You let me handle this baby, you go right there in that livin' room. Right beside the couch is a bunch of magazines. Look through them and decide what you want and I'll do it. I have all sorts of rollers and curlers, you name it." She kissed Miss Benita's cheek and went to have a seat on the blue suede couch.

"27-T The Flounce"- The newest page-boy look with skin part in Elura. $32.95"

As soon as she seen it, she knew it was the one. She practically hopped off the couch and skipped over to Miss Benita, grinning ear to ear. "I know that look, you found exactly what you want. "She took a break from cutting the peaches to look at the hairstyle Lula had her finger on. "But instead of the curls inward, I want them bumped upward. You can keep that curl in the front." Miss Benita instructed Lula where to look in the hall closet for the necessary supplies, which wasn't much. She began heating the tools before helping her with the cobbler. Helping as in talking to her while standing around and handing a spoon or a can of biscuits to Miss Benita as she did everything. And Miss Benita wouldn't have any other way. "Is that boy you've been gushing over these past few weeks the one that invited you to this little shindig." Miss Benita asked as she pinched the biscuit dough off and dropped it down in her pot that she used for damn near every meal."He's a maaaan..." Lula's accent drawing out, making the both of them chuckle. "... and he's a part of the reason. I just want to live a little." She said with a longing in her voice. A burning sensation in her chest like acid reflux, but this was an unadulterated emotion. She just didn't know which emotion this time. "And that you should." Miss Benita nodded with intense enthusiasm, supporting her wholeheartedly. "All you do is work. You're so young girl. The street lights don't tell you when to come home anymore. You're smart and your mother knows that, regardless of how she acts. Be aware of your surroundings, but remember to enjoy yourself." Her support was intestifying that burning sensation, but it felt like a good burn. Something that made her want to run a few laps or play Double Dutch as fast as she could. She didn't even know how to Double Dutch. "What's this man's name again?" "Elias. Elias Moore." Lula felt her cheeks turning red, his face alone had been occupying her daydreams recently. Miss Benita turned to look at her, and they both shared a smile.

Loretta was sitting on her rocking chair, reading her Bible, checking her watch occasionally. It was dusk and Lula still hadn't arrived back home. She figured she was still with Miss Benita, but believed there was nothing interesting over there that would keep her gone that long. "Why do you even care? You're not even nice to her when she is home." She paused reading, feeling like her conscious was a separate physical entity that actually spoke aloud. She looked around a porch, her fingers clenching the book as she did. Nothing and no one. As she started over, reading with her brain this time instead of just her eyes, she heard a metallic clunking sound nearing her. She knew that sound anywhere although it's been a couple weeks since it was in her driveway. Cruising at a slow and steady, and occasionally jerky motion, was Mr. Levi's blue pickup with the white stripe on the side. The windows seemed darker than usual, but she could still make out his silhouette. He was waving, slowly, and she imagined a big goofy grin on his face as he did. She didn't wave back, she could see what looked like another silhouette leaning over towards him, as if they were nodding off or maybe stealing a kiss. Her eyes narrowed, him waving the entire time until his truck had passed her home completely. Then he sped up, not too much, but he act like he wanted to actually get somewhere. Loretta's eyes still narrowed, her fingers clenching the book again. Something didn't sit right with her. She liked him in the beginning, but he made some off-color remarks that she didn't like. Something including asking for Lula's hand in marriage. It was mostly a joke, but he was never seen in their home again after that. It was him that she suspected Lula was spending her time with in exchange for gifts. A sugar daddy, she presumed. It's as if she didn't think her daughter actually worked at a bakery, despite her going by there with Miss.Pearly, a couple times. That didn't stop Miss.Pearly from filling her head with conspiracies. Make believe trashy romance. She wasn't sure what to believe but it was clear. She believed Lula and Mr. Levi might've had a tryst going on. And regardless of her age, she believed Lula needed to be guided out of that situation. He was old enough to be her father, and she desperately despised it. She marked her place, went inside and grabbed her keys and purse.

Lula was full of peach cobbler and sweet tea when she made it back home. "You can take them out now or wait 'til showtime. Either way, I'ma need a picture. "Miss Benita words echoed in her head as she strolled up the porch. The house was quiet, not even a TV on. Her mom's car was gone, but she had left the door unlocked this time. That was out of the ordinary, but she didn't question it much. She enjoyed the quiet, going to her room to ready herself for the night. She sat on the bed, contemplating if the three-mile walk was worth the freedom she was chasing. The dark, long stretch of road with possible run-ins  with rodents? Was it really worth it? But when would she get this chance again? Will she even have a good time? There was only one way to find out. After coming to a decision, to go obviously, she decided to show up at least an hour after the party was to start. She rested, showered, redid her eyeshadow to match her red satin scarf she'd be pinning to her head, and changed her lip gloss to a deep matte red lipstick. The one that takes exfoliation and elbow grease to remove at the end of the day, while still leaving a stain. Before removing the rollers, she modeled the long scarf. First on her head while draping the back like a long church veil, stopping at the back of her knees. Then around her neck covering mostly one arm like a shawl. It looked good, just not for the moment. She then tied half around her neck and the rest pulled up on her head like a hood. Ultimately, it was clear that the first one was the right choice. She nearly jumped for joy when her curl bounced as it formed a D-curl at the end. Miss Benita had re-straightened for her, old-skool style with a real hot comb; so it was sleeked to perfection. After getting the rollers out and turning her head side to side in different speeds, she nearly broke the hanger that held her dress. It was nearly 10pm and she knew Miss Benita will be hitting the hay soon, so she sent a few pictures before she got carried away on her other platforms. She paused. "Maybe...maybe this is a moment I don't document. And I can just live with the memory of tonight" she thought to herself. She saved the pictures she sent to Miss Benita and added them to a new folder.

It was 10pm when she was finally ready. She felt weird. Not scared, not reluctant, but weird. It didn't quite feel like a gut feeling, but something felt...incomplete. She stopped pacing, wanting to save her energy for the walk. She grabbed her purse, began to walk out her room, but then paused again. She walked over to her bed, the side where she lied the most, got on her knees and began to pray. She prayed for a safe adventure to this event. A change of pace that helped her find her belonging. She prayed that her sister was experiencing a sense of freedom of her own that didn't involve drugs. Praying for her mother sanity, as well as her own. And most of all, praying to make it back home, safe and sound. She stood up, feeling lighter and less damp around her breast and low back. She had been home for around two hours and her mom hadn't yet returned. She figured she was at the bingo hall since they didn't close until 2am and that's usually where she be if her hermit setting was turned off.

    "Stepping out. Be back late"

, she wrote on a piece of paper and tapped it to her mom's bedroom door. She put her perfume vile in her purse, next to a small index card with the name and directions of the place she was heading to. She also kept a laminated card of Miss Benita's and her mom's number as emergency contacts, in case something to happen. She refused to pee outside so she took care of that before stepping out into the muggy summer night air. She smiled to herself as she clambered off the steps and began walking, the streetlights leading her away from home for once.

Thirty minutes into her walk, the sound of life was further and further behind her as the chatter of katydids and cicadas kept her company. Walking was never an issue for her, but she had forgotten how dark the country actually gets. After thinking the heavens for the creation of memory foam sandals, she began daydreaming. "I wonder what music they'll play. How crowded will it be? Did I bring enough money? Will I have a good time? Is this all worth it?" She slowed her pace when she realized she was overthinking, rather than positive daydreaming. She exhaled and began to walk more steadily, trying her best not to sweat. Another thing that was easier said than done. She could smell her deodorant activating and the smell of a shimmery coconut oil/cocoa butter concoction she put on before she left. She was strolling, quite unaware of her surroundings at this point, when Elias came to mine. Stack, was his nickname, and she found herself in deep thought wondering why. Now forty minutes into her walk, a rattling sound was heard in a distance. It wasn't until she saw headlights growing larger and larger beside her, that it was a vehicle behind her. Fear began to creep up on her as she sensed the driver slowing down. When it came into her line of vision, she finally turned to look. It was Mr. Levi, the interior light on to show it was him. "Get on here, girl!" He hollered as he leaned over and opened the door. She smiled, whipping her purse onto the passenger seat and using both hands to haul herself up. She had long legs, but his truck was raised with no running board. She plopped down on the seat, that smell of cocoa butter kissing him gently on his face, as she began buckling herself up. "Thank ya so much." She said as he started pulling off. He grinned at her, admirably at her beauty. The delta sun had been good to her that summer. "Haven't seen ya' in a while." She stated, finally turning to look at him. His eyes turning to face the road, large june bugs appearing in the headlights briefly. She began to check herself, flipping the mirror down, knowing that there had to be at least one hitching a ride somewhere on her. She forgot all about them once she realized her curls hadn't frizzed or fallen. "I've been very busy with some house thangs." This sounded very vague, so she figured it was personal matters and didn't meddle. "I got me a farm hand. They'll be startin' soon. He's gonna help me make day deliveries, since I'll be preparing them at night." "Well that's wonderful. I was a little worried there that the deer had gotten into your inventory bad this time. I love your cantaloupes and peaches. Miss Benita made a cobbler earlier with them." She looked out the window into the darkness, wishing she had some. "Well since I've been out there during their usual feasting time, they know better." He gave a dry cackle, and she chuckled herself. The radio was low, the interior light was off, and the windows in the back were cracked. She tapped her fingers on her lap to whatever instrument that was audible, faintly, on the radio. His truck was an older model so it didn't say the song's name, just a station."Y'ur heading to the old brewing company?"He asked, a faint smile still on his face. He was definitely a "take a back roll while drumming the steering wheel and listen to your favorite song "type of guy; so Lula assumed. Then she realized, she never told him where to drop her off at. She turned to look at him, and he kept his eyes forward  this time. "How do you know?" She continued looking at him, her eyes looking at the time on the radio. 10:43pm. She'll get there a lot sooner than planned, but she was grateful nonetheless. But then she began to wonder how she'd get back home. "I just won't drink much" she thought to herself, needing to remind herself to have her wits about her. "Empty grass fields for miles 'til the next city over. Abandoned buildings. The brewing company  looked like they were movin' jukeboxes in a few weeks ago. So...lucky guess." he shrugged with a cheeky grin. She stayed silent, but there was a smile there. She felt like she was sneaking out and was caught, except she wasn't worried about being punished. She never knew what that felt like, considering her sister was the rebellious type of the pair. Really, for no reason, considering she had more freedom. Favoritism really does shape your mindset. For all parties involved.

"Your secret is safe with me." Mr. Levi spoke and almost a whisper that didn't sound like his own. He was now smiling hard, almost all teeth showing, when her head whipped around. "What secret?" She was genuinely confused, but also a bit intrigued. "I'm sure you didn't tell your mom where y'ur going." Her face balled up as she went back to looking forward, looking for a tall building with lights and the sounds of rageful bliss, in the distance somewhere. Nothing yet. When she looked out her window, the last street light, leaving them in darkness to rely on his headlights; she realized that they were cruising. It was as if he was in no hurry to get her to her destination. He was going that Lula will consider "the recommended neighborhood speed limit" . "Why would I have to do that?" Her attitude obviously soured. "So she knows y'ur safe. Or at least know where to look for you." She didn't like the way that made her feel. She could feel him looking at her, but refused to face him again. His face was blurry in her peripheral, but she knew he was staring. It was unnerving. His eyes were blurry but in a reflective way. The way animals' eyes reflect when a flash of light hits them in a dark room. There was nothing but a stretch of dark road ahead of them. For the next mile, she would've been in total darkness. Maybe some sunlight helping her along the way, but she doubted it. She would've without a doubt have been scared. But his presence wasn't much better. She had met him in passing a couple times. She knew he was practically the local produce man that majority of the town knew. She had a few conversations with him; enough to feel comfortable. But right now, she was feeling quite the opposite. Wanting to avoid looking at him, she turned to face her window, the slow pan of the trees, reaching out towards her to pull her in. She sighed, tapping her nails on her knees, the sensation of his eyes still on her. He still in no hurry to get her to her destination. "Why don't you go to church?" He broke the silence, making her instinctively look at him. "Do you even go?" He cackled as if she said something funny. "I used to." He said, the smile from his laugh still on his face. "Why did you stop? "She asked. "I don't know." His smile now long gone. "But I pray every day. Still." He said with a nod and she smiled at this.

She felt the truck beginning to slow down, but still steady. Up in the distance, there was a field of cement and on it were abandoned buildings and huge pipes. The biggest building had lights on and silhouettes of life inside. They were too far to hear any music and too dark to see any cars, but her heart was filling up with excitement. The Midnight Brewing Co. Her face flushed as the lights played peekaboo in between a small patch of dense trees.

"Your mother wants you to be saved." Mr. Levi said, his voice is different again. This time it was more prominent. She slowly turns to face him, her skin feeling clammy and her eyebrows pushing up against one another in annoyance. "And I think she wants me to be the one that helps you." Help crawling around her underbelly like a serpent. She looks at him, her eyebrows still furrowed. "You a pastor? "She asked without thinking. Although he was brown skin like her (darker and weathered due to his lifestyle) she could see he had a layer of ash laminated on his skin. His eyes rimmed with dark circles and his nails caked with dirt like he had been digging at the Earth with determination. The ladder was more than likely normal, but everything else seemed off. Not how she remembered him just moments ago when he had opened the door and she climbed inside. "Something like that." He smiled, intensifying that wicked feeling in her gut again. He seemed a little too eager for her comfort. And the drool that was beginning to form a trail down the side of his chin, was lit up by the light from his dashboard. There was darkness over his eyes as if he was wearing shades or his eyebrows were an umbrella over them. Only his grinning mouth with the thick, mucus-like drool was visible in the faint blue light. "Right here is just fine. Thank ya kindly." She stated firmly as she kept her eyes on him, her hand closest to the door finding the handle. She figured he has some freaky version of sundowners, but wasn't too keen or curious on finding out. She pulled the handle, but nothing. He wiped his mouth as his grin faded, a look of bemusement (and maybe a splash of shame) on his face. "I'm sorry, sugar. I didn't mean nothing unbecoming 'bout that." She gave him a "sure" expression as she kept her eyes on him and her hand on the handle. He finally broke eye contact, turned and unlocked the door. "You be safe now ya'hear?"  He turned to face her, and his brown eyes were visible again. "Thank you."She said softly, remembering her manners as she shut the door and turned her back to the truck. Something she really didn't want to do, but she was so close to her destination. She prayed as she slid down the shoulder of the road into the trees, hoping she didn't hear his truck door opening. Once down the short hill, she looked at her watch. 10:46pm. "If I walk fast enough, I can get there in about 10 minutes."She said aloud, but also in a whisper. Trepidation rose in her body when she didn't hear the truck rattle off or the sound of a door opening and closing. She let her eyes adjust to the darkness, refusing to use her flashlight on her phone. The moon was definitely on her side in that moment, giving her enough of a guidance to keep her from headbutting a tree, or tripping over a lifted roof. Faintly in the distance, she finally heard the rattling sound of Mr Levi's truck leaving and a sense of coolness washed over her. Further ahead of her, between the sounds of twigs snapping  under her feet, she could hear music and laughter. She moved a little faster, not enough to break a sweat, but she was determined to make that ten-minute journey an eight. More cars came into view as she made it to a clearing, reaching into her purse. She pulled out a bottle of her shimmery oil mixture and begin fixing herself up. She felt winded with anticipation and slightly overstimulated with something unfamiliar. The cars in the lot looked similar to ones in her neighborhood, but with more older models. She began to feel overdressed when she saw a decent amount of cars from the 40s. Surely, there would be old folks in suspenders and dress shirts, right? But then there were models from the early 2000s and as recent as two years ago. There were only two people outside.  A tall heavyset man smoking a cigarette and someone in a navy blue pinstripe suit, with his back turned. They were talking , until her sandals began to scrape the gravel and he looked over his shoulder. It was Stack. Of course it was. He was unmistakable and unmissable. Based off his eyes, especially when he smiled, it was clear he was befuddled. At least tipsy. He smiled, his gold caps glinting from the light above the door.

She didn't know based off experience (but to a certainty), but she knew stack was the type to hook his biceps under your thighs and pick you up and just go to town until HE was done. The type they'll talk you through it. Who would order you to a position, just to physically put you there. And a man who wasn't afraid to get his beard messy.

A straight pussy demon.

Just the thought, had her tugging her dress at the hips, suddenly feeling cramped and enclosed. Her skin crawled with both excitement and social anxiety. The wind blew her scarf off her shoulders, making it float for a few seconds before dropping against her back like a blanket. "What am I doing here?" She thought as he seemingly walked in slow motion towards her. It's too late. You're already here. Plus, he seen you already so it's too late to turn back now. Everything around him began to blur, like the corner of her eyes were filling up with tears, but not pulling in the lower lid. "I was beginning to think you weren't comin'." The moonlight casted a film over his eyes, giving him a dreamboat appeal, as the water in her body shifted. She could feel it, and the tips of her fingers and toes tingled. "What do you mean? You guys just getting started." Her voice sounded lazy and high. He shrugged, still smiling. "Kinda. I knew you would show up fashionably late, but I was hoping at the very least 11pm." She frowned a little and looked at her watch. 12:03am. "What? I-I..." "Don't sweat it baby..." he took her hand and began to lead her to the door. " ...it's gone be jumping 'til the wee hours in the morning. You ain't miss much." He smiled as he led her through the open door where the guy in denim overalls (so she thinks) was sitting on a stool at. This guy was just as wide as he was tall, a solid 6'6 at the very least. "Have a great time." The man said as he took off his hat when she passed. "Thank you." Her voice softer, as she blinked, trying to get the blurriness to retreat. As soon as she stepped aside, the smell of burning wood invaded her nostrils. Mesquite, but also Hickory. Her neck was stiff and her vision seemed locked forward. She couldn't feel her body, but she knew she was walking. But it felt more like a gliding. Her throat had a ball of sand right in the middle, causing her to flare her nostrils to breathe more. All she could feel was the warmth of Stack's hand on her forearm. Still not able to look at her peripheral, she was able to see those on the side of her, further up before passing them. Not only were their faces covered in a blurred, swirled film, but everyone was just standing to the side of them both; creating an aisle for them to walk through. The way people do in the church when the bride is coming.

She hadn't realized her hearing was absent until she could hear something familiar playing in the air. It was purposely slow.

  "But who's wants to live forever babe?
       You treat your mouth as if it's Heaven's gate"

It was "Too Sweet" by Hozier. But a slowed and reverb version of it. Her vision began to clear up the closer they made it to the bar, where what looked to be an Irishman wiping a stein with a bar mop. Her toes ached, feeling like they were dragging against the floor. With one hand still holding her, Stack pulled out a stool for her to park it. Before she did, she was finally able to move her neck, and turned to look over her shoulder. The gap was closed, everyone looked as though they had never stood still. They were sweating and dancing so close, they look like they were about to merge with one another. The dancing was in fact, filthy, but she was enthralled by it. "What can I get ya" The bartender spoke, his accent solidified her assumption of him. She thought for a moment. She considered something cute, but powerful like a cosmopolitan or espresso martini. She considered three fingers Rye with an orange peel. But she said something she's never said before or ever again after this. "Dealer's choice." Both the bartender and Stack shrugged at each other. He pulled out a shot glass, two in fact, and poured. She only caught a look at the bottle as he was putting it down, where she assumed was the shelf for the finer liquors. It wasn't quite a clear bottle; this stained blue color, maybe green. It was a red and white label with an unmistakable picture of a devil. He was either walking casually or tiptoeing. She was still intoxicated by something unfamiliar to know for sure, but considering it was the devil, he was most likely tiptoeing. She bet he had a grin of mischief on his mug, too. Stack did a cheers with her before they both simultaneously threw the bottom of the glasses back. The bartender had already turned his back to them, wiping down another glass. Stack let out a hot exhale, be Lula only grimaced . It burned, but mostly smooth. Definitely tequila, she thought. "Another one?" Stack asked with a cheeky grin as if he knew her answer. "Not yet." Her lips barely moved as she turned in her stool away from him and began staring at the back of the bartender's head. "Hey, we need some assistance in the poker room." Someone said on the other side of Stack, out of view from Lula.  "I'll be back." Stack excused himself as Lula nodded without response. Her gaze fixated on the bartender's head, the nape of his neck, the way his arms moved as he twisted his fist in the stein. Her belly was heating up and the sound of the music seemed to be slowing down more. But there sounded like other songs from other generations splice in the background, when she listen closer. Her eyes, unblinking, began to burn a little. Her peripheral was blurred, but it began to clear when she felt herself being watched. And she saw them too. A woman figure standing with her arms dangling heavily to her side, very seriously. Her vision smudged as she turned her head slowly to look at the woman. She was smiling a Lula, in a way that suggested they knew each other. And they did. Lula had noticed She was sitting slouched until recognition hit her body. Her eyes finally blinked, and she swallowed the ball of sand in her throat, finally. "Wait..."Lula said, her eyes blinking more, shooing  away the water. The woman still smiling, walking up to the bar in a robotic but smooth saunter. Her name was on the tip of her tongue. "...Sherry?" Lula asked, feeling exhausted from just thinking. "Yes. And you're Lula, right?" She asked. Lula smiled with a small nod. "How have you been?" "Amazing." Sherry said, with hearts in her eyes as she looked off to the dance floor. The palms of her hands were still on her heart when she turned back to Lula. "I had to go." She said with a stern expression. She slowly shook her head as her hands moved to her lap, and her fingers intertwined. "The same thing. Every day. The same boring thing on repeat. No progress and so...much...work. I wanted a real sense of freedom. So, I ran away." Lula couldn't help but smile at this, and Sherry obliged her. "But what about your parents? They were worried about you." She felt this pull in her gut, that felt good in a way that she couldn't put a finger on. She would later, though. "They worry too early..." she threw a hand in a playful don't-worry-about-that gesture. "... besides, they're here too." She pointed over Lula's shoulder, the way a child would with their entire arm stressed out. Lula turned a bit in her stool, but the rest she decided to look over her shoulder. Her parents were laughing and talking as her father lifted her mother's arm up and twirled her around. She never seen Sherry's parents before, but it was clear which ones were hers. A light was on them as if they were the stars of the show. "Freedom." Sherry's voice bringing her back, her vision smudging again. "That's what freedom looks like." She smiled affectionately at her parents. "Do you know what that feels like?" Her tone already knowing the answer. Lula's attention was on the navy blue satin scarf that was around Sherry's neck. She had it wrapped only once so part of it hung against her cleavage and the rest in the back. The part against her neck looked like there was a stain. "I love your scarf." Lula said, her voice started to burn a little. Did she forget to blink? A sense of trepidation began to rise in her, yet again. Maybe it had been in her this whole time but was showing in unfamiliar ways. Sherry leaned forward, taking Lula's hand in hers. The coldness in Sherry's touch gave the apprehension some corners. "Your skin..."Sherry said softly, turning Lula's palms up and using her fingers to trace her heart line. Her eyes stayed on the scarf, watching to see if it slid forward a little. Lula felt her heart stopped for a second as she felt and saw her vision pulsate. It was quick, but she could see everything in her line of vision project out of place in rattle. Her belly stirred and the tip of her toes were tingling again. She stirred in her seat as the heat began to spread throughout her, she heard a slight chuckle and knew it was a bartender. Her head turned to face him, but he was still in his previous position. The spic and span glasses on the counter beside him."... it's so shiny. And even." Sherry said as she flipped her hands back over. "You tan naked?" She asked very upfront, catching Lula off guard. Before she could answer, Stack was already beside them. "Sorry to interrupt ladies, It's time to show out." He said with his hand out for Lula. Sherry happily disappeared into the crowd, the familiar sound of a drum intro happening soon after. "That's not...is it?" She thought, but the singers first verse began and she knew it was exactly what she thought. "Wicked games" by The Weeknd.

A gasp caught in her throat as Stack flung her out into the crowd, turning her from the bar. She was now facing the door, his hand still holding hers, but now his free hand was on her low back. She exhaled, confused, but she accepted whatever was about to happen. The front of him was now grazing against the front of her, as his fingertips began tracing up her spine. She turned her head from the door to look at him, hers still spinning from that whip. "You've been thinkin' about me." He said in a tone that made it clear it was a statement rather than a question. She smiled, their hands that held one another lifting into view as her fingers mimicked his on her spine, but in the opposite direction on the palm of his hand. "What made you say that?" She asked flirtatiously as her flesh began to heat up. "Because I can see it." He gave a tight lip smile, his dimples at their deepest. And he meant it too. And she could see it. His eyes looked clouded, but also glossy. His regard was profound with plenty of passion behind it. She wavered in and out of arousal and fear. A very complexing mixture that had her between running away and seeing this through. Stack seemed to be the puppet master in whatever this was. When his fingertips found in her neck, he gripped it. He leaned forward and tilted her head up, as if to kiss her; just to whip her around so that she was now facing away from him. Everyone was in their own world, whether solo or with a partner. The feeling of shyness was long gone. She wasn't a dance-in-front-of-people person, but it was hard for her not to contain the slow whine in her hips as the music slowed and became palpably more sexual. He pressed against her, rocking with her as he began to match her rhythm. Her eyes were closed as their body heat began to encircle them; keeping pace with one another. His hand came across his lower belly as they began turning, the bartender now to their right. Stack's mouth was beside her ear against the red satin. It was the only thing that felt cool on her as she felt her body temperature rising, her dress clinging to her. "I waited for you all day." His voice was lower, like he was telling a secret. His hands grabbed her and rubbed her thighs up and circled her hips in waves with their fingers interlocked. He was guiding her. "I've been wanting to know what you feel like. Dreamin'bout it." He sounded like poetry to her. He freed one hand, repeating his caressing motion while his free hand began to ball her dress up, inch by inch. She pushed up against his buckle, her arm beginning to go behind her and reach around the back of his head. Her eyes open, looking straight ahead. On the adjacent wall was a mirror right above a couch, where a couple people were snapping their fingers and sipping drinks. She stared into the mirror, the distance making it a little blurry, but not blurry enough where she didn't see that it was just her on the dance floor. Her body shuttered against him, her eyes turn side to side, to the floor at the dancing patrons. Anywhere, but the mirror. That feeling of apprehension was back and it was at the forefront of her emotions. "I got you." He sounded out of breath, beads of sweat collecting on her exposed flesh. His fingers intertwined in hers again. And she felt... safe. Their hands glided slowly inward, her clammy thighs naturally separating as her hips began to rock again. Her hand was still on the back of his head when she felt his meaty index and middle finger pressed against the seat of her panties. His other forearm wrapped around her belly button and began to pick her up and spin. The guitar in the song overriding the lyrics as she faced the ceiling, her head on his shoulder. The twirl was so smooth, like an ice skater's, the water in her body now boiling. Her fingers clung to his hair as he squeezed tighter, still spinning her. Once her feet made contact with the ground he lifted her arm above her head and began to spin her just as Sherry's parents were moments before. Her stomach clinched as he began to spin her faster and faster. The crowd of people, turning into flashes of smudged paint on a canvas. The force of the spin preventing her from turning her head, or able to move her own limbs. It's like he was a parasite and she was its host. She could hear chanting and clapping, the faster she spun, the bottom of her feet burning. She couldn't yell or speak, trying harder to breathe through this torment. She closed her eyes tightly, as she began to force her head down, her arm still above her head. She felt crumbling under her feet, the chanting and clapping speeding up as she did. Wetness began to form in the corners of her eyes as she closed them tighter. She could feel her body still spinning, her eyes finally opening. The room itself was still spending, the patron still looking like smudged paint, but she could see the boards of the floor clear as day; as well as her shoes. There was a glowing light, illuminating between the boards, before they began to push up. She could feel the blood draining from her head and out of her ears as she mustered up whatever strength she had left to let out a scream. No sound escaped her agape gullet, the floorboards breaking away at her feet.
"Ple-..." the plead choked her, her eyes closing again as an unbearable heat started at her feet and began to surround her. And it consumed her. She felt her hand release, causing her body to turn into gelatin, and she collapsed like a ventriloquist doll. She hit her knees against the floor, her head in her hands. She breathed shakily, holding back her sobs with her eyes still close. She opened her eyes, Stack's derby dress shoes face-to-face with her. Too afraid (and maybe a bit embarrassed) to look around the room, she slowly raised up and sat back on her heels. She stifled herself, looking up from his shoes into his crotch that was now face-to-face with her. The last riff of the guitar was wrapping up when her eyes slowly trailed upward to meet his gaze. He had one hand in his pocket and the other rolling a toothpick in his grin, between his thumb and index finger. His eyes were hazy again as he studied her. Whatever sobs she had left has ceased, the beads of sweat from her collarbone rolling into her cleavage. She took her hand and wiped across her mouth, slowly, keeping eye contact with him, letting her wet index finger enter between her scarlet lips briefly; but indubitably. Her eyes moved back down to his buckle, her hands reaching out and touching his knees. Moving up his thighs into the buckle itself. She no longer cared about shame, and who saw them, but the only person protesting was Stack, himself. "Hol'on now." He leaned down and without a strain in his voice, scooped her up bridal style and headed for the exit. She kissed the side of his face, and then his ear, not noticing the people making an aisle like they did upon her arrival.

"Where are we goin'?" She said in a dazed and soft tone, the way of a curious child would. "Too many people in there. I have a place we can go." There was a small white building that looked like a supply shed of some sort. The entrance to the supply shed faced the opposite direction that the brewery did. There were tools, but there was also a bed. Small, but looked comfortable enough. He closed and locked the door before letting her feet meet the ground again. She grabbed both sides of his face and commenced making out with him. He moaned against her mouth as she sucked his bottom lip between the both of hers, and repeated with his top lip. He walked her backwards towards the bed as he balled up her dress in both hands this time, until her panties were exposed and easily acceptable. He pulled them down as she began to sit and lie back without a command. A verbal one, anyways. He slipped her shoes off and grabbed behind her knees and pulled her forward, right against his lips. She nearly yelped with arousal as his mustache came into contact with her bear flesh. He kissed each labia, then moved to her inner thighs. Her hands wondered all over her body, her back arching, her flesh hungry for his. She moaned, filling him latch onto her button. She looked down at him as he watched her, pushing her legs around and holding them where he saw fit. There look to be a darkness form behind him like a shadow, cloaking half of his face. Her head dropped against the bed, her body trembled. She couldn't tell if it was amativeness or alarm. She can hear a voice in the distance. It was her voice, and it was begging her to wake up. But a low growl began to disallow it. They began fighting with each other, no telling who was winning. Her eyes stared at the ceiling as her body began to sink into the mattress. The cloak of darkness, beginning to blanket her as Stack continued to devour her. She looked down at him once again, this time not able to rise up completely; something holding onto the back of her scarf.
What she saw had her slamming her head back down and hyperventilating. She must've been half past crazy, because it was the literal devil. And it was his horns that the soles her feet were resting on. Her  body taken over by something once again, had her in a vegetative state as she strained against it. Tears began running down the sides of her face and into her ears as she whimpered. The sound of a floorboard creaked before there was a voice beside her, beckoning her. It was telling her to let go. To surrender herself to Him. She knew without clarification that Him wasn't Stack. But he would be how she got to whatever Him was. The voice circled around her head, going from ear to ear, and right above her. The floorboard creaked again right as the voice ceased. Her eyes darted wildly around, until she strained them to the corner that was diagonal from the bed. There was a dark figure accompanied by two cadmium red dots, where the eyes were supposed to be. Terror rose in her lungs and lodged in her throat as it began to move closer. In the distance she could hear Miguel's song "Coffee" playing. It was deliberately slow like the others.

"Old souls we found a new religion.
Now we're swimming in sin, that's baptism.
Pick a star in the sky, we could both say goodbye."

It repeated that line over and over, becoming more distorted. The two voices still bickering while the third, beckoning one, was starting to win. Stack moved his mouth closer to her thigh, opening his mouth wider, the beckoning voice circling around her head like a mosquito.

"Old souls we found a new religion.
Now we're swimming in sin, that's baptism.
Pick a star in the sky, we could both say goodbye."

She felt a sharp prick, which lit a fire under her as she broke free. "I don't want to go!" She bellowed out, her foot slamming into his shoulder, sending him on his back in a twisted topple. In one big scoot, she slid off the bed and ran for the door. It was immediately slammed shut with one hand, she turned and saw it was Remmick, the bartender. The moonlight from the window next to the bed only exposed half of him, but she could tell it was him. "Hold on there, darlin'." His accent thicker than before. She backed against the wall, as Stack stood up, his eyes on her the whole time. His were a faded orange color now. "What do y'all want from me?" Both of them had wounded expressions, as if offended, but she wasn't buying it. "Nothing that you yourself wouldn't want." Remmick said. "Freedom." Stack said with a smile. "That's what you came for right?" Her eyes snapped back to Remmick. "Not in the way you're suggesting it." Her voice small, careful not to say the wrong thing, although she didn't know what would be right in a plight like this. These damned creatures. "It's the only way darlin'. You're chasing a false version of freedom. Short-lived and barely lit by a flame. We want to give you true freedom and not just a sense of it. Besides..." Remmick with his palms out like he was giving a sermon. "...you belong here with us." Belong dripped with green ooze that could only be removed with oil and a stainless steel cleaning ball. "No." She shook her head, protesting, as tears begin to swell in her eyes. "It's okay..."He stepped closer as she stepped back around the corner of the bed. "... I felt the same as you, years ago. When the men who took my father's land presented me with my fate, I knew it couldn't be true." He shook his head. "But there's beauty in acceptance. You gotta let go and give me all that hurt. Give it all to me and I'll take that pain away from you, just like I've done with the others. And look how happy everyone was in there."Remmick's eyes two tiny pinpoints of neon red. Her stomach turned when she realized she was most likely the only human there. The chanting and clapping wasn't an auditory hallucination, but a ritual. She couldn't even run if she got away from these two, since they all could hunt her down in the woods. She wouldn't make it far, no way. "I can save you." Remmick's voice oddly soothing. "Is the only way to get what you want. Stack added it, her attention only on Remmick now. "You want to what?" She asked, curiously. Remmick paused before repeating. "Save you." He smiled, his incisors now discernible. Mr. Levi, she thought to herself. Who else in town was affected? How long has he been like this? Is that why his deliveries are done at night for the past couple weeks now? Was he to blame for Sherry, who in turn, changed her parents? Darkness began to cloud around her as she began to wonder where her mother was. She felt sick. Her back was against the window, closer to the middle of the bed, but no direct pathway to an escape. Remmick  leaned from the end of the bed with his hand stretched out. "I'm your salvation." He whispered. The room was silent, between the three of them, when three consecutive taps on the window behind her caused her to jerk her head over her shoulder; just for a second. But that's all Remmick needed it since he was a lot quicker than her.

He grabbed her wrist and snatched her towards him, jowls agape. She screamed, swinging her flailing legs as she fell on the bed, and kicking him straight in his temple. He staggered, clearly annoyed as he began to wrestle with her. "I don't belong to you!" She yelled as she fought against him, but he was overpowering her. " No!" She screamed as she began to grab her by the face, forcing her to look at him, she closed her eyes tight, praying with every fiber in her being, mentally, since he had her jaw clinched in his palm. She could feel her body lifting off the bed with ease as he began speaking. Her prayers drowned him out the best they could, but it was clear he was trying to coerce her into letting go. But then her prayers began to be overtaken by something else entirely as she felt her body dangling in his grasp. His fingers felt like they were wrapping around her head.

The sound...of rain.

She opened her eyes and saw it was pouring rain. She was standing across the street from an unkempt house. It was dark and the rain, although not hard, was consistent. She was leaning against a tree that had overgrown branches leaning over in an umbrella form. She was wearing a hoodie, which she pulled the strings tight, shielding her face from the water dripping from the leafs. Her hands were shoved into the pocket of her thermal-lined joggers, which were now causing her to sweat despite how chilly it was. The unkempt house was the only one on the block with a visible light on. There was a dog barking somewhere in the distance, nothing that concerned her. She looked at her watch, she had left her phone back home, about a mile away. It had just struck midnight when she finally decided to cross the street. Naturally and inconspicuous at first, but then she began squat-walking along the side and carefully unlatched the back gate. There was heavy metal playing somewhere in the house. The back door had blinds, but they were raggedy, so she could see fairly easily into the living room. There was a man sitting on the couch, his legs sprawled lazily open as his head rested back on top of the  couch. She watched for a good minute before twisting the doorknob and entering. She walked around, entering the other two rooms, and the bathroom. No one else was there. She went back to the living room and stood in front of the coffee table that was creating a divider between her and the man, who was clearly in a euphoric state. His eyes were hooded and his mouth slightly ajar. He had track marks up and down his arms, a piece of rubber still tied around his sorry excuse of a bicep. She looked down at the table. Drug paraphernalia, as she suspected. Small clear bags, empty. Burnt spoons and deformed pipes. A pocket knife that was clearly used to carve random things into the wood of the table. The smell of stale cigarettes and a lack of personal hygiene clung to the air like a nervous child to his mother. She made sure all entrances were locked before she started what she came there for. Her hands have been covered in gloves the entire mile walk there. By the looks of the table, he might've been a dealer too, since there were plenty of bags tied in a knot with contents inside. Some with white powder and some with what looked like roofing tar. Or maybe he stole something valuable and was having a field day. She inspected her gloves to make sure there were no holes. She tore open one of the bags, grabbed one of the burnt spoons and began to liquefy it. Her eyes scanned the table for one of the dirtiest needles she could find. She propped the spoon on a bed of cigarettes in the ashtray, and carefully drew the dark liquid into the syringe. She tore open another bag and melted it down, her eyes on him as he stirred a bit. When she had a full syringe, she place it down, walked over to him and tightened the piece of rubber in a knot, his Adam's apple moving. His most recent used vein looked to be on its last leg due to it being an obvious favorite. Scabs and fresh blood was around it. The vein, nonetheless, pronounced all down his forearm. You could tell at some point he used to be fit, but clearly lost his way. And unfortunately had brought innocent people down that road with him. She had tunnel vision, grabbing the syringe and placing it at an angle. He mumbled, his head turning to face her in her peripheral. "Lula?" He said lazily, her thumb slowly and deliberately pushing down on the plunger, like a nurse administering her patient's night meds. She wanted to slam the plunger down, but found this to be more satisfying. She stood up from the couch, her eyes lit with flames of revulsion, glaring down at him. "Wh-..." his words broke off, his eyes widened and then rolling. "I told you to stay away from my sister." She said with a scowl, her voice tired and agitated. He tried rising, his body began to flop to the side of the couch, his foot sliding as he tried standing. She gently placed the syringe on the table, then unknotted the rubber around his bicep while he flopped wildly around. He looked at her with a wild expression, his pinpoint pupils almost nonexistent in his ocean eyes. He managed to get halfway up before tumbling to the ground, bumping the coffee table and knocking a few things off. One of the items was a white and red box. She stepped from around the table to examine it since he was seemingly reaching for it. He moved in a jerky motion, his twitching arm getting closer. She swiped it up like a winning lottery ticket, causing him to groan incoherently. She left him to his demise, slipping out the door she came in, not taking another moment to look at him. She couldn't. She hurried across the street and began walking back home. She was a few blocks away before she placed the box of Narcan on a bus bench, and didn't linger a second more. The rain had began to pick up, but it failed at cooling her down. She finally went through with something she had been dreaming about for weeks now. But hatred and discontentment was overthrowing  that feeling of accomplishment. She knew if her mother had taken the time to choose the man to bring into their home, none of this would be. She wished her sister had been circumspective like she had always been, and not let who was supposed to be their stepbrother send her down a dark road. A dark road she truly believed could have a light at the end,  if she had taken out the person who was driving that lowlife bus. But she knew, she felt it, that it wasn't going to be that easy; like the other times she had begged her sister to come home. But at least, the driver had been eliminated. She knew she was gone for good, she felt that too. And she loved the thought of that. She began smiling, ear the ear, but with no teeth showing. She pushed her hood back, exposing her hair, not caring about it getting wet. She felt... ecstatic. Jubilant. She wanted to run, jump in the air, and click her heels together. She was in seventh heaven.

"And you loved every single moment of that."Remmick's voice bringing her to, her feet still dangling in the air. Her eyes were still closed as her feet slowly began to kiss the floor. He removed his hand from her face as his eyes opened, hooded in a stupefied state . "Don't look at him", a voice said, but her body didn't follow. "You have rid the world of one more scumbag. And for a good cause too. 'Cause of you, your sister was allowed a second chance at life. Too bad your mother decided to move weeks later. She should've waited and sure enough, she would've had her baby girl with her now. I mean..." he began to chuckle. "...you think she wouldn't leave without her, considering she was the favorite." Lula's eyes were a little more awake, but still under possession. "You're smart." He wagged his finger at her as he played the scene in his head of her filling the syringe to the brim. "You and I..." he moved his finger away and towards him. "... we're just alike." Before he had time to say anything else, Lula pulled back and decked him so hard in the face hit his head snapped back. Stack's eyes widen with discernment, even he stepped back. Her chest puffed with anger, the hand she used was still in a fist, but she had no strength left. Remmick touched his nose, his fingers abnormally long and bony, but his face relatively normal looking. He looked at his fingers and saw blood, some leaking onto his mustache. His face twisted into a peeved expression. She braced herself the best she could, but it was no use.

Remmick's metatarsals exposed themselves, and with one hard strike, had her head forcing to the side. The rest of her body went with it, doing a complete 180 before flopping to the ground like a rag doll. A new sense of terror invaded her body when she felt her herself quickly losing consciousness. No beckoning voices or chanting, just fading wooden floors that existed no more.

Lula groaned, her eyes still closed as they begin to move around. Her body (especially her face)ached and was heavy with exhaustion. Her face felt warm with something bright to go along with it. She jerked away, bumping into the side of the bed. She tucked her legs closer to her, afraid something was about to grab her from the end of the bed. Her hands gripped the sheets, as she slowly began to rise, her head slowly appearing from the side of the bed. No one in the corner and no one blocking the door. She could see everything in the room clearly. She stood up fully, her eyes squinting as she was now leveled with the window. The warmth that roused her was the sun. She stared outside, placing her hands on the glass, her eyes amazed. She was okay. She looked around for her belongings before exiting the building, leaving the door wide open as her feet hit the concrete. She stepped completely into the sun, her eyes closed, and her soul ready. The sun felt like everything she needed right now. Despite no cars or sound of life audible, she still felt watched. She wrapped her scarf around her neck and began to walk faster when she was about 100 feet away from both buildings, she looked over her shoulder. Her heart dropped into her stomach when she saw someone in the window of the shed. A window she hadn't recalled seeing last night, facing the woods she was walking towards. It was her sister."Ivy?" She had turned completely around now and stood still. Her sister was smiling, and waving in slow motion. She looked happy. And cleaner, despite her eyes dark on her bottom lids, and a few scabs that look to finally be healing. She looked so clean, Lula could've sworn the door, now closed, was visibly through her. Feeling the back of her eyeballs burning as she lifted her trembling hand. She hesitated, but waved. Once turned around, she fled. She ran the fastest she ever have in her life, not stopping even where Mr. Levi had picked her up at the night before. The following miles were nothing but a blur. She hadn't remember running all three miles but when she saw her front porch, she finally felt safe. True safety. Not caring if she woke her mom up or was yelled at for being exceptionally late, she bursted through the door. She walked to her mom's room, the door closed, but the note still there. She knocked, no answer. She opened the door and saw that the curtains have been drawn close. She had blackout curtains, so the room was eminently dark. With the help of the air purifier light on her bedside table, she could see a lump in the bed. She could hear light snoring as she approached the bed. Next to the lamp was an empty bottle of MD 20/20. Her mom was turned away from her. She was careful not to bump the bed since she's never been in at this level of invisibility. She used the back of her hand to touch her mom's forehead and face. It was warm. She sighed a breath of relief before giving her mom a soft kiss and leaving her to her slumber.

She stood in front of her doorway, in disbelief that she actually made it back home. That this wasn't a dream, but yet, a reality. And the ache on the side of her face was also a telltale sign. She was sure a tooth or two were broken. If not, definitely loosened. She turned the shower on in her room before examining herself. She didn't bruise easily, but Remmick wasn't of this world, so she wasn't too surprised to see some red lines and knuckle indentations. She undressed, letting the dress turn into a pool of black silk around her ankles. There was a tiny scratch on her inner thigh but not puncture. She removed the pins that held her scarf on her head and carefully lined them up on the sink. She didn't care too much about the hard work Miss Benita put into her hair. She wanted to wash everything away. The dirt, the grime, the sin. Too bad not everything could be washed away so easily, but that never stopped her from trying.

After putting her hair in four plats and scooping her clothes up, and putting them in an old hat box she got from a garage sale, she emptied her purse. A piece of paper fell out. It was tannish-brown, and thick like it was torn from a presumably heavy book.
 

    Redibis mox...

She stared at it, annoyed, and curious. But sleepy more than anything. She hesitated, but decided to tear it into pieces before dropping it into the hat box. The red scarf cried out to her as she covered the box with his lid, and pushed it far back in the corner of her closet. She felt sad, knowing she would burn that box and all his contents in it soon as she got some well needed rest. She couldn't bring herself to burn the purse Miss Benita had given to her, so smudging it was her next best alternative.

The last thing on her mind before crying herself to sleep, was her sister. She looked so happy. And free. And that's all she wanted for her.  

-End-