Falling For The Demon: The Girl Who Taught Hell to Love

"You can't keep following me around like this," I muttered under my breath, wiping down the table. "I’m at work, and I don’t want to lose my job. My supervisor might think I’m a lunatic and fire me." The last thing I need right now is to appear like a madwoman talking to herself. I can't bear the thought of returning to the days when people avoided me for that very reason. I glanced up at the young girl standing quietly in the corner. She remained silent, her hollow expression fixed on me. A customer strolled into the restaurant and sat directly opposite her, completely oblivious to her presence. She didn't even blink at the man in front of her; her gaze remained locked on me. I forced a bright smile and approached the customer, jotting down their order in my notebook. I threw one last look at the silent girl before heading to the kitchen to submit the new orders. "Tough week?" my colleague asked, noticing my glum expression. "I get it. It’s been rough for me, too. God, I can’t wait to find a better job," she grumbled as she arranged the trays. I cast a sideways glance at the girl and sighed, "I think it will get better." Once I help this soul cross over to the other side, I hope. But something inside me warned that it wouldn’t be an easy task. The day flew by, with the young spirit lingering around the restaurant. She followed me silently after my shift ended. "You know I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what you want," I said, turning on my heels to face the poor soul. "I know it’s hard and frightening, but I promise it will be okay once you pass over to the other side, young one." For the first time since I’d seen her, a small smile crept onto her lips. "You don’t look any older than I am," she replied. "I know what’s waiting for me on the other side, but I’m just not ready to go yet." I tilted my head to the side, amused. "Wow, she talks," I joked. "I almost thought you didn’t understand me, or that you had a hearing impairment." This time, amusement sparked in her eyes. "This is refreshing." I shook my head, turning back to the front. "If you don’t want to move on, why are you lingering around me?" I resumed walking, glancing at my watch and quickening my pace. I knew she was following me. She even knew where I lived now. It was a little creepy, but I couldn’t exactly shackle her or do anything to stop her from trailing me. "It’s not every day the living can see me," she replied, her voice light. I rolled my eyes. "Trust me, there are plenty of humans who communicate with the dead. There’s even a f*******: group dedicated to people like me." Suddenly, she appeared right in front of me, startling me and making me gasp. "Are they as outgoing as you are with the dead, too?" she asked, smirking. I exhaled a breath, glowering at her. "You almost gave me a heart attack. I don’t know if people out there are as accepting as I am, but I do know I’m not the only one," I shrugged. "Just don’t startle me again. Ever," I warned, walking past her. "I don’t plan on doing that." "I wonder why you’re suddenly so chatty," I mumbled to myself. "How long have you been stalking me? I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve asked you to say something." When she didn’t reply, I assumed she’d ghosted me yet again. I let out a soft chuckle and continued on my way until I reached my apartment. I sensed this soul had endured a lot. Why would she choose to linger in the human world when she could easily find peace? I climbed the stairs to my apartment, fished my keys from my pocket, and unlocked the door. Instantly, the smell of cigarettes assaulted my senses. I held my breath, trying not to cough, and stepped inside, closing the door behind me. I went straight to my mother’s room to check on her, finding her in bed. I knocked softly before entering, "Mom?" I asked gently. She cracked her eyes open, relief flooding her features, but it faded quickly. "Arabella, I was hoping you wouldn’t be back until later tonight," she said, propping herself up. "Your brother is here." "I know," I replied, grimacing. Pain flickered in her eyes. "I hope he won’t stay long." I pursed my lips, refusing to let my hopes rise. "Yo, Arabella," I heard him call, heavy footsteps approaching my mother’s room. "Thank God you’re home. Mom told me you wouldn’t be back until late," he smirked, peeking into the room. My mother stiffened, fully aware of what was about to unfold. I glanced at her. "Yeah, there was a change in my shift," I shrugged. "Why were you looking for me?" I asked, fully aware of the answer. Matt reeked of cigarettes and alcohol as he sauntered into the room. "I need some cash. Do you have any?" he asked shamelessly. Yep, I saw that coming. "No, Matt," I replied, keeping my tone devoid of emotion. "I had a few debts with my colleagues, so I paid them back." It wasn't entirely a lie, but it would have to suffice. Matt’s demeanor shifted from friendly to cold in an instant. "I know you’re lying. You must have some money left." He glared at me, taking a threatening step forward. "You must think I’m a fool if you think I don’t know you have cash." I stared into his eyes. "I don’t have it," I said firmly. Matt scoffed. "Fine. If you don’t have any money..." His eyes scanned the room, searching for anything valuable. I couldn’t help but smile without humor. "You’ve already pawned everything of value, remember?" Matt sneered. "f*****g hell." He moved so quickly that I didn’t have time to react. Before I knew it, I was on the ground, my cheek burning from the impact. "Matthew!" I heard my mother scream. Hot tears streamed down my face as I gingerly held my cheek. "I don’t have any money, Matt. If I did, I would have given it to you already. Do you think I enjoy your visits?" I shot back, meeting his gaze. Matt balled his fists, frustration boiling over. "f**k it, Arabella. Don’t think I won’t be back. I might leave today, but I’m coming back tomorrow, and you better give me what I need!" He spat at me and stormed out. My mother rushed to my side. "Arabella, honey. Are you okay?" She helped me up from the floor. "We should put some ice on-" I shook my head. "No, Mom. I think I’m pretty immune to his slaps now. Have you had dinner yet?" I asked, desperate to change the subject. "But-" "Let’s have dinner," I insisted, forcing a reassuring smile. "I’ll whip something up for us real quick." I walked out of the room, leaving her alone. I was just eager to escape so she wouldn't see me breaking apart. I stepped into the kitchen and took a deep breath. This wasn’t new to me, but for some reason, tonight felt overwhelmingly heavy. Haven’t I accepted my fate as the sole breadwinner for a family with a poor mother and an abusive brother? Or was there a flicker of hope left within me? That maybe one day everything would be alright? I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts, and turned on the stove after placing a pan on it. I hadn’t decided what to make, so I’d just improvise with whatever groceries were left in the fridge. "I’m guessing that was your brother." I jumped, startled by the unexpected company. I turned to see the young soul perched casually on my kitchen counter. "I told you not to startle me," I said glumly, shifting my gaze back to the dinner I was preparing. I could feel her eyes on me, studying me closely from her spot. "Does he hit you often?" she asked softly. I didn’t answer her, mainly because I didn’t trust my voice. She didn’t press me further; she must have sensed it was a sensitive topic. "I was abused, too. I endured it for a long time, quietly. I never thought it would end badly for me, though. By the time I wanted to fight back, it was too late." My back stiffened as I listened to her tragic story, but I kept my lips pressed together. I continued chopping onions for a simple omelette. She cleared her throat. "I was just saying-" I looked up, finding her words caught in her throat. "Can we not talk about this?" I asked. "I’d appreciate it if you told me your name." She looked taken aback but finally replied, "I, um... Vanilla." It sounded like it pained her to say her name. "Like the ice cream?" I blurted out, immediately regretting my words. I bit my tongue, worried I had offended her. She appeared a bit embarrassed by my comment, but nodded. It seemed like she had heard that comparison many times before. "That’s a lovely name. I never knew anyone was named after ice cream," I sighed. I looked down at the chopped onions and smiled. "Hey, do you want to—" I looked up again, only to realize I was alone once more. I chuckled darkly. "And I’m alone again," I muttered, shaking my head. Knowing I was truly alone this time, I allowed myself to cry. A few silent tears streamed down my cheeks, my chest tightening with the weight of emotions I had tried to bury deep within. Why did I have to bear such burdens? Just because I carried them well didn’t mean I was fine with it. I was exhausted, both mentally and physically, from this life... But I had no other choice. I had to don my brave face and move forward, no matter how painful it felt. Even if it wasn’t for me, I had to persevere for my mother. After all, she was the only person who truly cared about me. It made me wonder if I would continue to live this way until the end of my days. God, I hoped not. That would be unbearably depressing. I wiped my tears away with the sleeve of my shirt and plastered a cheerful smile on my face. "Mom, come on. Dinner is ready!" I called out, as if nothing had happened thirty minutes ago.