The Gravest Girl of All by Amy Cross

Author:Amy Cross [Cross, Amy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-07-09T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seventeen

“Drink,” the Devil says as he leads her through the open doorway and into a small room at the base of the cliff. “Hunger and thirst aren't real down here, of course, but you're still used to the idea that you need water. Drink and your head will feel clearer.”

“I'm not -”

“Drink!”

Sam hesitates for a moment, before seeing a cup of water resting on a nearby table. She opens her mouth to say that she's fine, but then she realizes that her mouth feels impossibly dry. Despite her misgivings, then, she finally steps over and takes the cup, and then she feels a rush of relief as she drinks and feels her thirst starting to subside.

“Feels good, doesn't it?” the Devil continues. “It's just an illusion, of course. Hard to shake the habit of a lifetime. Just like those people out there who you thought were coming after you. They weren't real, either.”

“I saw something else, too,” she says. “It was like I was back in my old life. I'd been drinking, and everything seemed to be on a loop, and then my body started falling apart and -”

“Let me guess,” he adds, cutting her off. “You saw yourself from outside your body.”

“In a way. My eyes had fallen out. I could see what was left of me, flailing around on the floor and screaming Henry's name.”

He nods. “It's not fun, is it?” he asks after a moment. “Seeing a caricature of yourself, I mean. Seeing how lame and pitiful and cliched you are.”

“But -”

“Henry!” he hisses, mimicking her voice a little. “Henry, it's Mummy! Mummy's here! Oh Henry, I feel so bad for dumping you in the street! I'm such a bad mother, let me whip myself and -”

“Shut up!” she snaps.

“But I'm right!” he says firmly. “You need to get a grip, or you're going to do what everyone else does here in Hell. They disappear into themselves. Believe it or not, this place tends to focus the ego.”

He steps toward her and holds out a knife. Before Sam can stop him, he slices a cut on her arm.

“Hey!” she hisses, stepping back. “I'm not -”

And then she stops, as she realizes there was no pain.

“Pro tip,” he says, heading back across the room. “Pain in Hell is illusory. It's all in the mind. That doesn't stop it hurting, of course, but at least it's a good way of working out whether you're really here or not. Once you know that you're in Hell, you can control the pain. And you'll notice that in Hell, you don't bleed. Not really.”

Lowering the cup once it's empty, Sam stares at him. There's not much light in the room, with just a couple of candles flickering on another table, but that's enough for her to see that he's staring straight back at her. It's almost as if he's waiting for her to say something, and she feels as if he's been trying to goad her into getting upset.

“What are you doing here, anyway?” she asks finally, trying her hardest to seem calm.

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