When fragmented rays of daylight found Sina, they found him with throbbing temples and a mouth as dry as five-day-old toast. He felt as though his skull would burst. Images of his head exploding like a watermelon made him wince. His hands flew to his head and held tightly. The alcohol still inside him guffawed. When Sina rolled to the side, he felt the blades of grass tickle his face. Opening one eye, he came face to face with the lone dandelion who looked even more wilted than the pitiful wildflowers bowing like beaten men.

"Shiiiit," Sina groaned. "I shouldn't have given you any hootch. Tequila is people drink, not lion-flower drink."

When the dandelion failed to reply, Sina brought last night's wound to his lips and mumbled as he bit down. "I'll fix ya, little lion. It's kinda gross how but don't worry. This works. Put your faith in me. I broke ya so I'll fix ya." Bloody drops pooled in the hollow of Sina's palm. Tipping his hand gingerly, he let the blood fall over the weed.

The green stem unfurled. The fuzzy yellow face curved towards the sky. The dandelion puffed out and grew to twice its size.

Sina brought his hand to his mouth and licked. "Seriously..." he winced, "this is disgusting! Whoever thought it was a grand idea to make blood taste like a can full of rusted pennies?"

Making a face, he reached down and carefully wiped vermillion stains off the weed's petals. "All better?" Nodding to the I'm-not-a-flower-but-I-look-like-a-flower weed, Sina's head began to spin. "I wish there was a way to magically make this hangover go away." Thumping his heel to the ground, Sina grumbled, "You couldn't have left that as one of my powers, you cunt? You stripped me of nearly everything for leaving. I mean, like could I have been left with a superpower other than bringing flowers back to life? How about pyrokinesis? Telepathy? Something DC or Marvel comic cool? I would have made a great Batman... a better Joker." Sina thumped the ground once more and then looked away. "I forgot. I'm never speaking to you again you horned, pitchfork-tailed bastard." 

Before that last thought could cool, Sina spoke again. "I never asked to be a demon. Never asked to be born one of your grody minions. God!" Sina yelped and smacked his mouth, "I mean hell...arrrg!" Angrily, he began wiping at his mouth as if he'd eaten dirt. "Bad words!" Sina leaned over and pretended to hurl. "I want to be a person," he whispered, "a real person who lives and dies like people do. With family. People issues. Stupid mortal conflicts like fighting over the remote control with a bratty brother. I hate what I am – a fuckin' demon. And not a very cool one either." Sina never regretted leaving hell. Though it had been roughly one century since he had, he stuck firmly to his decision to ride out the rest of his two hundred years living on earth. He wanted nothing more to do with Heaven and Hell.

Creeping up onto all fours, Sina leaned his head against the ground. He felt the sharp tips of the grass, the soft moss battling for space, and little pinch-faced flowers dying in the remnants of summer. Arching up, he cast his eyes to the trees. "I'd make a terrible flower. But did I make a terrible son?" Sina thought back to his adopted mother, Cybele – or Bel as she preferred being called. Though she wasn't his biological mother, she had treated him very well. "I remember the house smelling like flowers," he whispered and ran his palm over the foliage. "There were gardenias and poppies everywhere." Sina never knew his birth mother, none of his kind did. Unfortunately, he knew who his father was yet he hoped never to see him again. Though Bel had died of an opium overdose a long time ago, Sina sometimes still allowed her to cross his mind. "You said one day I'd get used to drinking so much I'd never get a hangover again. You lied, ma Bel. I think that was a gift only you had. You were a fucking mortal but you had a better gift than me. Man, you would have hated the 80s. No opium dens like the ones in London. All we've got is big hair, synthesizers, and butt-ugly clothes."

Sina drew in a deep breath and smelt the forest. He let the scents flutter inside him until he was back in Empyrean Flats – his London loft. It was a place he had called home for many years. For a moment, he let himself daydream of his past. 

Bel was standing at the kitchen table trying not to drop the armful of flowers that were threatening to spill out of her embrace. When she attempted to adjust the roses breaking free, they tumbled down and hooked themselves onto the hem of her dress with their uncut thorns. "Sina, I desperately need your help."

Sina had been lounging on the floor by the window. Tucked into an oversized blanket, he had nearly fallen asleep. The rare London sun had been shining brightly down upon him and had made him sleepy. "Mmm..." he muttered.

"Sina!"

"Mmm?"

He heard Bel mutter under her breath, Use tactics, before speaking up, "Opium!"

"Your highness, I am coming." Sina scrambled out of his cozy spot and dashed to where his mother stood. "Ma Bel," he chortled looking at her. "You look like you're under attack. Kind of like Alice when she tried to befriend those awful flowers." Then he added under his breath, "Those shits."

"Sina, language." Bel jerked her chin to the flowers reminding him she needed his help. "If you're going to be colourful, I expect you to be colourful."

"Fine. Not shits then. Queens of bitchdom?"

Bel chuckled. "Better. But in all fairness, Alice did say she'd prick them first, so you can't just blame the flowers without blaming Alice too."

"Then let's blame Alice too." Sina took a bunch of the flowers out of Bel's hands. He saw there were gardenia, lilies, poppies, and freesias among some dainty little blue ones that looked like they were smiling through chubby cheeks. "These smell nice."

Bel shook her leg, trying to dislodge the clinging roses. "I know you like flowers as much as I do." Scowling at the thorns which would not let go, she added, "Yet I am starting not to like the roses as much."

Sina's lids fluttered as he floated back to the now. He remembered how they had placed the flowers in vases all over the house and among one of the bunches he had found a lone dandelion.

"It's a lion-flower," Bel had commented with a wink. "Not a weed."

He remembered how when he crawled back into his little sunny spot on the floor he dreamed of gardens.

Now, his dreams were infested with pointless scenarios. The few times he had good ones they reminded him there had once been a time in his life that hadn't royally sucked. But when his mother died he moved away; and then it was just him, his books, a bit of opium, and a long time to go.

As he attempted to rise, Sina felt the world sway horribly. "For fuck's sake. Someone stop shaking the globe." Placing a palm on the tree to steady himself, he drew in a deep breath and wished he had a cigarette with him. Unzipping his backpack, he saw an unopened pack of Camels staring back. "Huh?" A post-it was stuck on the carton, Grabbing it, he read out loud, "You are a little shit. You now owe me three packs. Go to church once in a while. You stink of the dev–" Crumpling the note, Sina flung it away. "Pfff!"

Hoisting his backpack over his shoulder, Sina unwrapped the pack and dropped the cellophane unglamorously over the dandelion. "Cookie always says I stink of the Devil," he muttered as he popped a cigarette between lush lips. Striking a match, he sighed, "If only he knew, little dandelion. If only he knew." 

* Fun fact: I created Bel to be a lot like Sina so they could have more of a friendly relationship rather than a parent-child one. So now you all know what Sina is. Do you think Bel is like him? Human? Or something else?