Chapter 11: Chapter 4.1 – Sweet But Psycho ~ Oh, she’s hot but psycho

*Sweet But Psycho by Ava Max

 

The food tasted amazing and she couldn’t have enough cheesy grits and fresh shrimp. Sara ate in the dining room in a gleeful tone as she wondered if Lucifer was gay. She wondered what his type would be.

A voice cut off her thoughts: “Ah, I see. Invite people he hates and makes a feast of it. A feast can be so opening, so much happens, talk, laughter, gossip, so forth.” He breathed down Sara’s neck and she felt herself become cold and stiff, “But so much here is behind closed doors.”

Sara closed her eyes and tried to ignore the voice and the man standing behind her. She had been trying for a year now. Actually, for a few years now. She desperately wanted him to leave. It was a condition she had and she would have to suffer for the rest of her life—that is what the angels said.

Sara had her doubts. It wasn’t a condition hallucinating about this man who she could physically feel as he touched her and see every single damn day. Sara stopped her eating for a second. She couldn’t have anyone notice the strange look on her face, she continued, telling herself that he wasn’t real.

The worse thing about this whole person in her mind—he could hear her thoughts.

The creep dragged his finger down her shoulder to her arm, “I am real and you know it.”

Sara slammed up, trying not to scream. Don’t fucking touch me. “I need to use the bathroom.” She said as calmly as she could muster. She saw Michael’s face question her frantic ask, and she repeated what she said.

Elena escorted her out of the dining room, and Sara thanked her. As they walked to the bathroom, Sara tried not to look over her shoulder if he was following her. She could never hear his footsteps and he could appear any minute when he pleased.

She gratefully went to the bathroom and locked the door behind her. She whirled around and he faced her, his face hovering over her and she jumped back, slamming against the door.

“Leave me alone. You could’ve waited until later? This isn’t a good time!” she whispered angrily, staring mad eyes at him.

The thing was, she could talk to him in her thoughts, but she could get easily sidetracked by her other thoughts and the conversation could get confusing fast. It was easier for her to understand her imaginary friend when she talked to the person.

The man smirked, “Anytime to see you is a good time.”

Sara huffed, “I need to piss, so can you just...go?” She waved her hands out to dismiss him.

He thought about it for a few seconds and disappeared without another word. Sara let out a breath of relief.

As she washed her hands, she looked at the mirror, a face looking more gaunt than usual. She saw bags under her eyes and she felt and looked tired.

She wished this person would just leave her alone. Sara would give almost anything to just have herself.

A knock came on the door, “Sara, you’re okay?”

It was Michael’s voice. Sara took a deep breath. She was going to be okay. She looked back at herself but saw in the reflection the man standing behind her, his eyes glaring red and a grin across his face.

Sara shoved open the door, muttering to him but winced at the hard tone.

“Sara, should be nicer to your worried father, Might give him a heart attack,” he purred, shaking his head, “But, not like he’s your father anyway.”

Sara tightened her hands and wanted to throw a punch at him. He is my father you piece of shit!

“My name is Sal, not shit,” said the guy, following her into the dining room. “Remember, you named me?”

Then stop acting like one...Sal. Sara spat his name in her mind like a venomous poison. She watched as her father and his brother gave each other eyes. They walked in silence, but the voice next to her breathed, Sal’s gaze to Lucifer, “I despise this man. He is like me, but just...uglier and stupider.”

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Sara didn’t comment, her focus trying not to be on him, but failing with much certainty,

“I want him to die. I want that fucking Lucifer to die!” Sal heaved heavily, “I hate him. I am the truly best Devil.”

Sara glanced at Sal’s black horns that circled pointedly on his head. Sara wanted to make him mad: You aren’t as hot as him.

Sal stopped walking next to her and grimaced. He took some steps toward her and grabbed her shoulder as they entertained the spacious, dark living room, “Hurt him. Put a deep long cut down his stupid face!” he snared.

Sara ignored him yet again and sat down at the puzzle table. Leave me alone.

There was some blissful silence as Sara worked the puzzle and overheard her father’s conversation. Sal cooed, “Why don’t you go put a mark on Lucifer’s face? Look how passive he is to Michael. You don’t want your father hurt do you know? He might not be hurt on the outside, but inside...mentally...”

Sara mentally rolled her eyes as she snapped a piece into the picture kitties puzzle.

Sal now was getting frustrated, his breathing had turned more shallow. He bit down on his lips. Somehow he would make Sara do what he wanted one day, “If you don’t put a scratch on Lucifer’s face, I’ll kill your father.”

Sara glanced at his angry face and then back at the puzzle. Please, you’re more stupid than Lucifer.

Sal snapped, “Fine then.”

Sara’s eyes flickered to Sal, his tone frightening her, He walked over to Michael as if he was going to study him. Sara stood up as the lights flickered off. She gasped as she saw him smash his hand hard against Michael’s head. Sara ran to her father as the lights went back on.

Sara glared at Sal with tearful eyes who gleamed back hatred back at her but meaning to her. Sara felt words slipping from her mouth before she could even register what she said: “Fine, I’ll do it,” she said, tearfully and stared at Lucifer. She screamed for her hands to not move, but they betrayed her as she felt a dagger underneath her dress and pulled one out, never leaving her eyes at Sal, who was behind Lucifer now.

Sara saw Lucifer’s friends make a move and she knew she would take them all down if she had to. She would stop them. She hated to see her father hurt like that. Just as she was about to move, Sara heard Michael moan and she launched at her father, “Dad!” She felt like an idiot as she threw herself over him, but didn’t care what others thought of her right this minute. Sara felt her mouth move but wasn’t coherent with what she said, all she cared was about her father. “I’m sorry!” It wasn’t fair that she had to deal with this...alone. That she carried this burden...alone.

Anger boiled up inside her like lava about to erupt from a volcano. Tears started to emerge again.

Michael pulled Sara in for a hug. Sara let the hug enclose her, “Poor Sara, all alone. I’m here,” Sal grinned and squatted next to her, “I can take your pain away…” he put his finger along her face.

Sara choked and then yelled, standing up in horror, “Leave me alone!” She cupped her head as if her ears were in pain, she was having a massive headache. She tried to erase him from her mind, from her thoughts. From her life.

Michael looked at her concernedly. Kate gave a strange look and Raphael was oddly quiet, with a blank expression. The Archangel stood up, “Lucifer, I think we might go, Sara doesn’t seem well.” He pressed his lips, hoping to God that it wasn’t what he was thinking.

Sara snarled, “I’m fine,” she folded her arms tightly and sat down on the couch. “Can I have some of that whiskey?” She eyed Lucifer’s glass.

Lucifer walked over to the stand where the whiskey bottle and the glasses were, “Sure.” He looked at Michael for approval, who shrugged. He poured halfway and handed it to Sara, who gracefully took it. She did a small sip, giving a sour face, and then swung her head back, ignoring the fact Sal was rolling his eyes and the whiskey tasted like shit to her.

“Don’t give her anymore though,” Michael stated, as he reclined back on the sofa.

Lucifer could feel the roughness of the blade of his dagger on his pelvis. The dagger was tucked into the pant stripe. The sharpness felt welcoming. He could take them all on if he wanted. But, not time yet. After dessert.

Lucifer's mind trailed off as Michael and Raphael were talking about world-changing climates. Would I be happy after all is said and done? He cast his eyes down to the wooden plan, oak flooring. He remembered there was a picture frame of his sister on top of the mantle, which was covered with a black cloth. The Devil looked up at the covered picture.

His body temperature rose higher everywhere in his body,

Lucifer would get revenge for his sister...no matter what.

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