The detectives started combing through missing persons in all the locations Satan’s Affair resides in for the past five years. They’ve been able to find numerous bodies and connect them to me, but they haven’t found all of them yet. Some of them were too decomposed, and others were far too destroyed by my hands to get much DNA.
But they know I did it. They know it was me who killed them all.
“Some of the people they were able to identify did have records. But a lot of them were petty crimes. There’s no way for us to really know if they were evil like you claimed.”
I keep shaking my head. “My henchmen are real,” I say, quite pathetically. “And those people were evil. I know it. Jennifer’s boyfriend raped her! I heard it from her mouth, and he confessed before he died!”
Dr. Rosie nods her head slowly. “Jennifer Whitley?”
When I nod in confirmation, she writes something down her pad. “I don’t know if that’s true or not, but regardless, it doesn’t matter, Sibby. Even if every single one of them were evil people, that wasn’t for you to act on. You know that right?”
Her words prick at me, but instead of reacting in anger, I take a deep breath and dry my tears. Glenda's words come back to me. I may not be normal, but that doesn’t mean I’m crazy. That doesn’t mean what I’m seeing isn’t real. Dr. Rosie—she can’t see and smell the things I can. She wasn’t blessed with gifts I was blessed with. I just have to remember that. No matter what she tells me, she’s wrong. She
’s speaking from a place of ignorance.
How can you tell me I’m not seeing what I’m seeing, just because you can’t see it, too? Why do the shortsighted people get to claim what is and isn’t sane?
Slowly but surely, I calm.
“They’re real,” I say with conviction.
“We're real,” a familiar voice whispers. My head snaps towards the voice, and I gasp when my eyes clash with familiar red eyes.
Mortis. Standing in the corner of the room, behind Dr. Rosie. Decked out in his red paint and red contact lens. A small, knowing smile on his face.
“Do you see something, Sibby?” the doctor asks, her brow furrowing. My eyes slide back to her, and I work hard to keep my face blank.
“You’re not allowed to call me Sibby,” I reply.
“They tried to get rid of us,” Mortis says, stepping away from the wall and walking up behind Dr. Rosie. Slowly, and methodically. She doesn’t acknowledge him. Instead she’s staring at me, a hard look on her face. “Did you stop taking the medications, Sibby?”
I nod, a small imperceptible dip of my chin as to keep the suspicions down from the doctor sitting across from me. Staring and dissecting. Trying to pick me apart and figure me out. She’s just like the rest of them. She thinks I’m crazy.
Mortis stands directly behind her. The smirk on his face grows as he rests his red hands on her shoulders. Yet, she still doesn’t acknowledge him. Doesn’t even seem to feel him touching her. She just keeps staring at me.
“I know how to get us out of here, Sibby. You know what to do,” he says, pointing towards the pen in her breast pocket. “Do it. Then we can be free, and then we can all be together again.”
A slow smile spreads across my face.
Dr. Rosie scoots towards the end of her chair, now looking more alarmed. See? She can sense her death, just like I can sense the evil that surrounds us every day. “Sibby? What’s going on?”
I stand. “Shh. It’ll all be over soon, Dr. Rosie.”
THE END
Thank you for reading Satan’s Affair! I hope you found Sibby as fascinating as I did.
This year, I am releasing a brand new duet! The first book, Haunting Adeline, will be coming this summer. Turn the page to read the first chapter of Haunting Adeline:
Chapter 1
The Manipulator
Sometimes I have very dark thoughts about my mother—thoughts no sane daughter should ever have.
Sometimes, I’m not always sane.
“Addie, you’re being ridiculous,” Mom says through the speaker on my phone. I glare at it in response, refusing to argue with her. When I have nothing to say, she sighs loudly. I wrinkle my nose. It blows my mind that this woman always called Nana dramatic yet can’t see her own flair for the dramatics.