"David, I'm not fucking around. Get away from me before I call the police. You're violating the restraining order."

David laughs dramatically. "What if I don't give you the chance to call them?"

Is he threatening me? I raise my foot, kicking him in his balls. He doubles over in pain, holding his junk. I proceed to uppercut his face and turn to run away.

If I can make it to the store, I'll be in public and safe to be able to call the police. Suddenly, I'm punched in the face, making me stagger back into a body.

They hold me in place, and I try to kick out of it, but to no avail. "You're gonna regret this, David. I'll make sure you're jailed for life!"

"Not before I kill you, I won't." He smiles, telling them to kill me. A gun is held at my head, threatening to shoot at any time. I close my eyes, trying to come to terms with dying.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

I open my eyes at the voice. A dark, well-dressed man is standing behind the shooter with his hand in his pockets.

David looks over at the guy with disgust. "Who do you think you are to tell me what I can and can't do?"

The man just smiles devishly. "You're right, I can't. I'm just simply telling you it's a mistake." He steps forward a bit.

"Stay back and stay out of this!" The gun is now cocked and ready to fire.

The man puts his hands up but doesn't back away. "If you kill her, I kill you, young man. And where you'll be going, you won't like it one bit."

"Are you threatening me? There's three of us and one of you, dude." David cocks his head back, laughing.

"And if you weren't scared of me, you would have pulled the trigger by now." He moves closer to us, giving me a better description of his face.

He's practically a supermodel. It's almost like a copy/paste from a magazine.

David doesn't look angry anymore. In fact, the man was right; he's scared. "Don't you dare step any closer, I will shoot you!"

"Fire away, you insufferable prick. See how far that gets you. In fact, I do dare. I dare you to shoot me!" The man laughs from his stomach.

The gun is moved away from me and towards the supermodel look-a-like, who is still smiling and laughing like an idiot. I'm not about to witness a murder so I close my eyes and hear the shot ring out multiple times.

"What the fuck?" The man holding me, now let's me go.

I open my eyes, taking in the scene unfolding before me. The man is still standing and unaffected. Maybe they missed the shots.

The man walks slowly towards David, who grabs the gun from his buddy. But before he can shoot again, it's swiped from his hands in an instant.

It's tossed to the side and away from all contact. What is this guy doing? "Now, what have we learned in the class today?" I can't see his face, but something makes David scream bloody murder.

He's let go, taking off in any direction he can to escape whatever it was he was so scared of. By now, his buddies have all gone, leaving the man and I alone.

I take this as my leave and start walking back to my car. "What? Not even a thank you for saving your life?"

"I didn't need your help." I continue walking, but he catches up.

He tisks his tongue. "Now, now. That's no way to be towards your savior. I saved your life!" He repeats to me.

"I heard you the first time." I get into my car, not looking back as I drive away in pure confusion. What the hell just happened?

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I try not to think about it too hard. It's been a couple of weeks now, and I'm starting to think it was just a dream.

I pour the coffee into my mug labeled 'Angel'.  It tastes like dirt, but I've made myself a habit of it. At first, it tasted bitter, and it didn't taste very good. But after a few days, it became almost comforting.

It calmed me in ways that no tea could have.  It gave me a feeling like I had more control over this world than anyone else. The coffee wasn't going anywhere. My fingers were still moving, and I still felt like I had to breathe.

If I closed my eyes and concentrated, maybe I could get the image out of my head of that man. I hated him.  He wanted me dead. If he'd managed to do what he did to the people who came to the shop to buy a cup or three, how come I was alive? Why was everyone else dying but me?

My hands stopped moving as soon as I thought about it. I've never really thought about it before. I mean, when I was about to be shot, I made terms with death. Whether or not I ended in nothingness, hell, heaven, or got reincarnated . . .it didn't matter to me.

If I'm being honest, I don't deserve anything peaceful.  That's why I drink so much. To numb myself to pain so that I'll never remember anything from that day. Maybe if I'm drunk enough, that memory will fade away. Maybe I can convince myself that I don't want anything else. It's just another thing to add to the endless list of things that I can't escape.

I glance at my watch, 7:18. I should get a shower and leave for work  soon. Otherwise, I won't get home until later. I grab my cup from the counter and start towards the bathroom.  On my way there, I stop by the fridge.
There are some carrots left in here, which is good. They're usually good.

I pack a quick lunch, heading to the shower.  As I stand under the spray, the memories begin to creep back up on me. There's one particular memory I always keep to myself, but the others slip by easily enough. After washing everything out, I wrap a towel around myself and step out of the shower.

  Grabbing a clean set of clothes, I go to change.  A knock sounds at my door. “Come in,” I call out, finishing my pants button.

The door opens slowly. I know this visitor before he even gets close. He walks in. I frown, knowing what he's about to say. "I heard from David."

That's not what I was expecting at all.  The last time we talked, I didn't want to hear about his new girlfriend. Or anyone else for that matter. “So you came to tell me off again?” I ask, sitting down on the edge of my bed.

"I own this house. Your mother and I own this house. For you to have another boyfriend hurting your ex is disgusting." He spits at me.

I decided to retort back. "Oh, like you, dad? How about getting over mom two days after she died?"

"I loved your mom!  We're talking about the same woman here!" he growls back. His eyes flash. I know he has had his moments since then, but he's so selfish!

"The difference, dad, is that I don't have a boyfriend. And it definitely wouldn't be that guy. I'd take a lot longer than a few weeks to get over the bastard."

He steps closer to me, making me step back. "That man has done nothing wrong. If you weren't such a prude, he'd still be healthy!"

"Healthy?" I question him.

"He's in the fucking hospital because of your boyfriend."

"I don't have a boyfriend, asshole!" He slaps me.

His eyes are void of love and his mouth spewing saliva. "Don't talk to me like that you stupid bitch! I am your father!"

I say nothing. If I anger him more . . .

With a quick entrance, comes an even quicker exit. I'm left to stand in humility and pain. I look back at my watch. 7:53. God dammit.

I put my wet hair into a high bun, grabbing my socks and shoes. I almost forget my wallet, walking out the door and locking it. I'm never going to make it to work in time now.

Oh my God, Bruce. If I'm late, only God knows what he'll want from me this time.  
When I walk in, I can already feel that my coworkers are waiting for me with raised eyebrows. Some of them look concerned, others angry. They haven't even noticed Bruce's presence.  Good, they haven't seen him yet today, I hope.

I hurry to clock in and get to my station. Maybe he won't even notice. But no such luck. I'm in the middle of making a sandwich when Roxy tells me that Bruce wants to talk to me in the office.

What? I look at Roxy, who looks as shocked as I feel. This can't be good. My heart is beating rapidly in my chest.  Oh no, oh shit, oh fuck!  My mind races. What is he going to do to me this time? Is this going to be like last time?

No. Don't show him you're scared. He wants to see weakness.  You aren't weak, he doesn't need to see you cry. I don't cry. Ever. Even before Mom passed away...I'm strong enough now.

I enter the office door with my eyes to the floor. "You wanted to see me, Bruce?" I close the door slowly, planning escape. I wish I could just quit this job.

"No one wants to tell me your name, love. Why is that?"

I look up in shock by the voice. It's very recognizable considering he's the only British accent here in our town. Where did this man come from? Bruce is tied to his office chair and his mouth taped shut all around his head. "Why are you here?"

"To find you, of course. It's very rude to not thank your savior." He says, kicking his feet up onto the desk. "Now, what's your name, dear?"

"What's your name?" I throw back."You tell me yours and I may tell you mine."

He just chuckles. "Lucifer. Lucifer Morningstar."

I laugh. "Like the devil?"

He squints his eyes. "We had a deal."

"No, I said, 'may' as in, it's my choice." I turn to leave, about to open the door. A hand stops the door, he's now standing in front of me.

He stares at me intently before saying, "Tell me your name, dear. You know you want to."

"Why do you want my name so bad?" I retort, crossing my arms.

"Huh, usually that works. Why are you so special?" He eyes me up and down, clearly making me uncomfortable.

I raise an eyebrow. "Trust me, I'm not."

"No? Well, I'll have to disagree, darling. Now let's see. What shall we start with?" He hums as he thinks of something before saying. "Well, you're a brunette, aren't you?”

I glare at him. “And?”

“That makes your name very unique. Aubrey? Aubrey Fawn? It suits you very well.”

“Aubrey?” I mutter to myself, not liking the sound of it.

"Is something wrong, dearie? Did I pronounce the right name?” Lucifer asks, a smirk appearing across his face.

“It’s not Aubrey.” I state calmly. "I'd kill myself if it was."

“Ooh, a funny girl!” he says, leaning towards me. “Let me tell you something, Aubrey." His eyes glint with curiosity.  "Forget you ever met me. Get that idea right outta your head."
I stare into his dark eyes with suspicion and defiance. I’m sick of all of this! If you’re going to play games, let’s play.

I cross my arms. “Oh, really? Says the one not leaving me alone." I snap at him.

He tilts his head to the side, studying my expression.  “Ah yes, a bit of attitude there, aren’t we? You're too stubborn, Aubrey. Too much pride and a little bit of fear, hmm? Let's try again." He leans forward a little further.

I roll my eyes. This is absolutely ridiculous and childish. Damnit! If I tell him now, it's just one more thing he will bring up at every chance he gets. And the name is pretty hard to forget.

“Your name is…?” he asks, his gaze boring deep into mine.

Taking a deep breath, I finally tell him my name. "Cathy," I respond, staring directly back at him.

Lucifer lets out a snicker at the name. "I guess the story would be complete if it wasn’t a lie."

"Oh, like yours?" I retort.

He grins. "Well played! So you were hiding the truth behind your smile."

"Yes, so you can see how this game is pointless. It's not that I'm lying to you, it's just…” I trail off, trying to figure out the answer to give him.

“It’s something personal. Like I said, it’s not my fault, alright?”

“Really? Because the reason everyone else seems to be so concerned with the name is because of your reputation. After all, if someone as beautiful as you isn’t careful . . ." He trails off.

My eyes widen. "How does it seem like my reputation is the problem?"

He shrugs, giving me a lopsided grin. "I don't know, it's kind of obvious to me why they seem so afraid of you. I mean, look at yourself. You must hate being called by this name."

"My Dad thinks your my new boyfriend. You're ruining my life even more than it already is. Just leave me alone!" I look over to Bruce, forgetting he was still in here.

"And would that be so bad? I could protect you." He stands and starts pacing around the room, looking at me through narrowed eyes.

"Protect me from who? From whom?" I ask, growing increasingly upset. Why won’t he just leave me alone! The hell is wrong with this man?!

“Your past lover. Do you love him or not?”

I tense up.  No one has asked me that question before. Everyone just assumes that I loved him. Not that I care about other people’s opinions.  It’s none of their damn business.

"Do you?” He repeats, his eyes searching for my answer.

"No, but he doesn't love me either. He tells everyone he does. He's a fucking liar."  I spit, clenching my jaw.

"Ah, so he has a different opinion on it. So I've noticed." He smirks as he comes back to stand behind me.

I lean against the counter next to me. "I don't want to talk about this anymore. I've gotta get back to work. I need to get paid." I say quickly.

He laughs and grabs hold of both of my shoulders forcefully. "You can't run away from everything, Aubrey. Now you listen carefully, I'm here because I am interested in seeing the truth." His eyes bore into mine intensely.

"No one believes me anyways. Please let go of me."

And he does. "My apologies." but his face changes and contorts to a very confused face. "Why did I listen to you?"

I open the door and look back at him. He's still in shock from something. "Aniela."

He looks directly at me. "What?"

"My name. Aniela." I repeat, leaving him to himself and my boss.

That did not go the way I thought it would.

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