What would you trade your soul for?
The answer is simple for Jessa: nothing. Life isn't perfect, but it's pretty good with her best friend Taylor at her side.
But everything changes when the Devil--disguised as an attractive high school girl--comes...
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I was angry.
It was an emotion I didn't feel too often and therefore didn't know how to adequately control. It bled out too easily on my face, hissing out of my pores and lingering in the air like a dark cloud. I could tell that my mom and dad and Mallory knew something was wrong, but no one addressed it directly at dinner. In fact, the conversations around the table were light and mundane, almost incredibly so. I think they were trying to distract me from my thoughts and snap me out of the feeling.
But I couldn't shake the anger. I worked on homework. I watched television. I even tried to call Taylor, but she didn't pick up, which only angered me more. When I eventually climbed into bed, the anger came with me, molding around my body like a cold sheet.
I stared at the ceiling, Lana's sharp jabs echoing through my head on an endless loop.
Why did I agree to this deal? I wondered.
I knew who Lana was; she had been very upfront with me on that point. This wasn't a silly agreement among friends; this was a deal with the most famous fallen angel in history. In the grand scheme of things, this was a business transaction, nothing more.
And yet her anger towards me had hurt more than expected.
You're too trusting, I thought, rolling over in bed. Because I knew why I was upset. Over the past week, Lana had opened up to me, told me her story, and had somehow become a friend. I wanted to believethat she was a victim of circumstance with a deep loneliness that I could help fill. I wanted to believe that despite everything, she was capable of change and deserved one night out at a dance with a boy.
And yet when she had opened her mouth and snarled at me like a stray dog, everything shattered. She wasn't misunderstood; she had just gotten better at hiding who she truly was. I'd been played.
So anger it was... although, beneath the anger, a stream of hurt was churning, and that I couldn't shake, despite my desperate tossings and turnings in bed.
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Around 3am, I was woken up by a tapping sound at my window.
I climbed out of bed, groggy but awake, and looked out the window. Lana was standing on the front lawn, waving her hand meekly.
