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Grace wished she could say that seeing the devil was the strangest thing that had happened to her that day. Honestly though? It wasn’t. The whole evening had been one fucking nightmare after another.
Sitting outside the burning mansion of her former lover she couldn’t help but think ‘some of this shit is never going to heal’.
She was right. Some of that shit never healed and if it did, it was never the same. Her left hand would always be slower than before and when it rained scar tissue all over her body ached and cried. Scars covered her body and she could never sleep with the lights off, but she survived. The taste of blood woke her up at night but she had won.
Grace beat a bunch of monsters at their own fucking game and for that she was kind of proud. The only regret she had was buried with Daniel. He had always been nice to her, sometimes too nice, and she thought about his death constantly. In a way, his death was for the best because at least he died before shit hit the fan.
Therapy was a new routine for Grace. She never mentioned the devil but the memory of him sat gently on her lips. A burst of flame and a nod, was all she had received in acknowledgment of her survival, her victory. Part of Grace was disappointed. Living through hell should earn you something. Something forever.
Life went on. The sun rose and set, Grace’s body began to heal, she was discharged from the hospital, given a large sum of money, investigated by the police, found not guilty, interviewed by the news, and finally left alone.
Mr. Le Bail might return one day and ask her to play a game once more, or maybe she’ll never see his face again. Either way. She was ready.