Chapter One Innocence Lost
"You'll always be my star baby girl, my beautiful girl", the thinly woman clutched her trembling daughter's hand. "Mom please, hold on, just a little while longer, please", Starlet whimpered softly. Her mother smiled sadly, "It's alright baby girl, my shining star, it's alright, I'm ready, the Lord gives, and the Lord takes away, and he gave me you Star, what more can we ask of him now?" Tears slipped from the corners of her soft amber eyes, "But mom, I'm not ready, I, I lost daddy, I can't lose you too". Her mother stroked the girl's cheek lovingly, "You haven't lost us, baby, we'll always be with you". Starlet could hold back no longer as she wept profusely, clinging tightly to the railing of the hospital bed, "Shh, hush now my love, constant as, the stars above, always know, that you, are loved, and my love … shining in you will help you make, your dreams come-" the haunting melody was interrupted by violent coughing and spluttering, and the taint of blood on dry lips. "Mom? Mom!" Starlet wailed. Suddenly, they were no longer alone, as the tiny hospital room was flooded with doctors and nurses. "Miss Bennet you need to move", she didn't know who was speaking to her, but Starlet refused to budge, hypnotised by the sight of her mother convulsing, eyes bulging out from her hallowed skull, a bloody froth foaming in her mouth. The woman in the bed looked more like an alien than her mother, hairless, balded head, a slight yellow hue colouring her body from the chemotherapy. Rough, gloved hands grabbed her shoulders, forcing her to her feet, "No, no, no please, please, she's my mother, she needs me, let me go!" she wailed, "Miss Bennet please, you must move", heart monitors beeping erratically, voices shouting, Starlet felt herself fade, being hauled from the room, Star, my star.
Starlet Bennet woke screaming. Covered in a layer of sweat, in the darkness, in the night. She clasped at her throat, panting breathlessly. Still trapped in her horrific nightmare, the world around her seemed not right. It was lucid, not quite reality, with soft edges. But she had to focus, there is no hospital room now, no doctors, no nurses, no mother, just her. She continued to sob, holding her head in her hands. You're not there anymore … you're not there. Once she had settled herself, Starlet glanced wearily at the clock on the bedside cabinet, 3:00 AM. Why did she always seem to wake at 3:00 AM? Her pillows and duvet were dripping with sweat, but that didn't matter, once she had the dream, Starlet knew there would be no more sleep that evening. Slowly, she pulled herself from the small bed, making her way down the decrypted hallway, to the only bathroom in the apartment. Six years on, and there had not been a single night where Starlet had not dreamt of her mother. Six years dead, and it still feels as though it were only yesterday. Starlet caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, oh, the years had not been kind to the 19-year-old. Dark circles entrenched the frail skin beneath her eyes, which in turn, appeared sunken into her face. Her hair, still the same peach blonde, fell limp and lifeless past her shoulders, what better condition could she hope for? Washing it with dish soap. Her lips dried and cracked, that even to smile would cause her great pain, not that she did much smiling most days.
She filled the bathtub only halfway, with barely lukewarm water. She scrubbed herself down with an old rag, using a jug to pour the water over her head and to rinse her hair. Starlet quickly dried herself off, slipping on her work uniform for that day. With three jobs, sometimes it was hard to keep track of what persona she would be for the next hour, the motel maid, the bartender, or your server at Joey's Diner. Today, it was the motel maid, however, she still had two and a half hours before her shift would start. This is the time she would dread. Awake, but not working, not distracted from her own thoughts. This was the most dangerous time.
"Starlet, Starlet!"
The young girl exhaled a sigh of relief as she heard the slurred shouts. "Starlet! Where-rr-e the fuck are you?"
"Coming Auntie!" Starlet called and hurried into her aunt's bedroom. She was sprawled out on the bed, still dressed in her clothes from earlier that morning, her high laced boots, a low cut dress that was too tight. Her hair was thrown all around her, and heavy makeup smeared. "Fucking hell, took you long enough", she groaned, trying to pull herself upwards.
"I'm sorry Auntie", Starlet murmured.
"Don't fucking call me that", she snapped, and Starlet jumped, "I'm sorry Esme".
"Get my boots off", Esme demanded, "Where are my cigarettes?" Starlet dashed to the old TV set, taking the pack and lighter, stealing one for herself and slipping into her left boot.
"Boots girl, my boots!" Esme barked once more. Starlet worked quickly, undoing her tightly laced heels as fast she could. Esme lit up the wrong end, cursing herself before casting it aside and drawing another from the pack.
"Esme, I've got to go to work soon", Starlet whispered, "Will you be alright on your own?" Esme took a long drag, "What do I look like? A fucking child? Get on girl, bout time you contributed". Starlet nodded and quickly scurried from the room. She raked a weary hand through her hair, dropping onto the old couch next to the window. She slipped out her lighter from her apron, as well as the stolen cigarette. The tobacco was stale, she could taste it in the smoke, Starlet didn't care, she was happy enough for the nicotine now pumping in her veins. She blew the smoke strategically out the crack of the window, not wanting to give Esme any reason to stir. The city had not yet to wake, and the sun was still slow in his rising.
She glanced at the time on her phone as she tapped the butt, 4.01. "Shit", she hissed, Starlet knew well that she would have to leave to catch the train, or she would be late, and that was the last thing she wanted.
The L tracks that ran through Downtown LA were old, depressing, and filled with a kaleidoscopic range of personalities. In those early hours of the morning, the L was mostly filled with the early shift factory workers and the destitute that had nowhere else to sleep that evening. From her window seat, she could see the whole of downtown zoom past her, and in the absence of the crowds of people, it almost looked beautiful, in its own desolate way.
The motel down the alley from the Denny's on main had to be, in Starlet's mind, had to be the focal point of all the deplorable, degrading, lascivious filth of the whole city of Los Angeles. It's like the glaring neon vacancy sign was a beacon for the most depraved individuals that the so-called City of Angels could spit out. None more so than it's not so reputable owner, Starlet's boss, Mr Malkovich.
He was behind the Front desk as she entered like he was every morning that Starlet worked the early shift. He was a very short man, with thin, wobbly legs and a very large belly pouched on top, he would sometimes put her in mind of Danny DeVito if he was not so vile and utterly repulsive. Mr Malkovich had the look in his eyes that would always let Starlet know that he saw her nothing more like raw meat to be torn apart by his claws. He would wait for her and smile darkly behind his full rimmed glasses as she walked through the doors. "Good morning sunshine", he would purr, and scamper around the desk in his little-heeled boots, "let me get your coat for you", it was his little ritual, he would crop up behind her, and as slowly as he could manage it, peel her coat away, he would press himself close to her back, poking his nose close to the creak of her neck, and breathing in the scent of her hair. It made Starlet feel completely disgusted with herself, but, compared to what some of the girls had to endure with Mr Malkovich, Starlet considered herself one of the lucky ones.
"Marie won't be on with you today Starlet", he cooed, "Just you and me on this shift", there was something sinister in his smile, and Starlet could feel her insides tighten with fear. She held her breath and drew her pale lips into a thin line. "Her, her boy given her trouble again?" Starlet tried to sound brave, unphased and nonchalant, but she could hear the anxiety in her own voice and knew she wasn't fooling anyone, not even herself.
But Mr Malkovich looked on in delight, "That boy of hers, giving her trouble, has to go to his hearing".
"What did he do this time?"
"Sold some blow on one of Jack's corners".
"That wasn't smart".
"Not everybody can be smart, you're smart though, aren't you Starlet?" She felt her whole-body tense even further. Just keep calm, breathe. "Not so much Mr Malkovich", she answered.
Her humility only furthered his delight, "No, no you are a smart girl Starlet, in fact, I was hoping you could come in the back room and help me with some receipts.
Red warning signals flashed in her mind, danger, danger, danger, "Uh no, no Mr Malkovich", she answered quickly, her words tumbling over one another, "I would mess em' up, I'm horrible at math".
Mr Malkovich frowned, his face turning as hard as stone. Starlet felt her heartbeat quicken as she anticipated his wrath. "Alright then", he spoke contemptuously, "I forgot to tell you, I've had to cut your shifts back for next week, by ten hours".
A low blow, but he'd done worse before, docked her a whole week's wage once, but still considerable enough to make her worry. "That's okay Mr Malkovich", she nodded, "I best get a start on the second floor".
"Yes, you do that".
Starlet pushed her trolley along, four rooms down on the second floor, and the fifth was as bad as the rest of them. "God in heaven the trash can is literally not even a metre away", Starlet groaned as she tossed the two used prophylactics into the waste paper bin.
She was hunched over on her hands and knees, scrubbing the carpet with all her might. Her hands felt raw under the bristles of the scouring pad, but it made her feel useful like it was a real accomplishment to have the cheap carpet appear slightly less grimy. There was a strange flapping sound echoing around the room, and Starlet found herself dropping the metal pad into the bucket. She wiped her hands on her apron as she checked the on suite, thinking it might be a rattling pipe. There was nothing inside except more filth and trash. She pondered that it was most likely the guests upstairs, and so she brushed it off until the noise got louder.
Flapping, like wings.
Starlet screamed as there was a shattering of glass, and she had to spin quickly to avoid being hit by the shattered pieces. Still reeling from shock, Starlet slowly turned but cried out once more as she saw the horror before her.
A bloody crow gargled and cawed as it flapped erratically, it's neck twisted in a horrid direction, and pieces of glass poking out from its stomach.
Starlet clutched desperately at the crucifix hung around her neck, trembling with adrenaline. She watched in terror as the crow died painfully, and finally stopped moving. The blood pooled on the freshly cleaned carpet.
She was shaking fiercely, hand clamped firmly over her mouth. "Oh Christ, Oh Christ", she finally clawed together the courage to tiptoe forward, shell-shocked by the incident. She grabbed a sheet from her trolley, tossing it over the corpse like a crime scene. She scooped it up, tossing the crow's carcass into the trash can, and felt her stomach flip as blood and guts drenched her hands. She clambered into the bathroom, scrubbing her hands beneath the boiling water in the sink. The smell was putrid, and Starlet had to throw herself from the sink to the toilet as she violently threw up her stomach contents.
Her throat was aching, and her hands were pulsing raw as she slowly lifted her head from the toilet bowl, Starlet wanted to kick and scream, to lash it, but like always, she didn't. She kept her fury and frustration within her, as she stumbled back to the sink, washing out her mouth and neck with cold water. If she had looked back at the toilet before flushing away her own sick, she would have seen the excess blood against the white veneer.
"And what the hell is all this mess?" Starlet saw a fuming Mr Malkovich standing amidst the motel room. "You are paid to clean, not to trash the place!" he bellowed.
Starlet gazed at him with tired eyes, not responding, "Well?" he growled, "What do you have to say for yourself? Or are you too stupid to understand?"
Starlet murmured, "A bird flew into the window Mr Malkovich, there was nothing I could do".
"Excuses!" he snapped, "You stupid, idiotic girl, you complete and utter idiot who can't even clean right!"
Mr Malkovich continued to rant, and Starlet knew fine and rightly that it was more likely his spurned advances on Starlet or a buffering in the motel's porn services that had him in a foul mood, and in a few fleeting seconds, Starlet had enough of his abuse. There was a surge of heat in her body like a tidal wave, a strange pulsing movement along her nerve endings as she roared at him, "Well then you clean it!"
Mr Malkovich fell silent, gawping at the girl as she furiously tore off her apron, storming out of the room. But the man always had to have his last word, "You'll have to pay for this damage!" he shouted.
"Dock it out of my pay then!" she snarled back, and she practically ran from the building, still dressed as a maid.
She would have barely half an hour to herself before the beginnings of her shift at her second job, and a new persona would be donned.
Starlet had managed to compose herself before entering Joey's. She dashed into the small makeshift staff room in the back where she was able to quickly change into her waitress uniform. She glared in her reflection in the little mirror in her locker, a ghost was looking back at her, she pinched at her cheeks, maybe if she could gain a little weight, she wouldn't look so much like a corpse. She sighed, closing the locker door tight.
"Heya Starry-eyes", Melany smiled as she walked in the staffroom, pulling her coat from her shoulders. Melany Porter was a fellow waitress, and good friend of Starlet, a no-nonsense twenty-five-year-old with flowing multi-coloured hair and darkly lined lips. "How're things, you at Malkovich's rat nest this morning?"
"Yeah, he cut my hours again", Starlet huffed, tying her apron firmly around her waist.
"One of these days you're just gonna have to fuck him", Melany laughed.
"I'd quit first", Starlet growled.
"I know you would, that's why I think you're badass", Melany smirked. Starlet dipped her head, blushing slightly if there was any person on this earth who could make her chest swell with such confidence, it was Melany.
The two exited the staff room laughing, Starlet helping to tie her friend's own apron around her waist.
"There's my two girls", Joey Bianchi, the proprietor of the diner, beamed at them. He was a smiling man of medium build, with thick black hair that filled out his head and his eyebrows. His skin glowed with the vitality of a man who had worked by the sweat of his brow all his life. He was forty-nine, happily married to his second wife Donatella, and blessed with two twin girls, Desdemona and Ophelia. Unlike Mr Malkovich, there was no malice, no sinister undertones to his grin, he saw not the two young women's youthful bodies, but their souls.
"You see through the night okay Joey? Heard Jack's been stirring up shit round your way", Melany asked, slipping behind the counter.
"You think that shmuck would come within spitting distance of this place? He knows better, people around here would run his boys out", Joey spoke firmly, and the booth of men on their lunch break nodded eagerly in agreement.
"Cept' that Billy one, the fat fuck is too much touched in the head to keep away", Mr Bellucci growled.
"He been around here again? I thought Billy wasn't going to come back after the last time you all ran him", Starlet joined in, Joey's diner would forever be her safe haven, her safest place where she was treated as both as a person and as an equal. She could speak her mind without fear, ask questions without the worry of reprisal, no matter what horrors she suffered in the rest of the world, Starlet would always find herself engrossed in the warmth and homely feeling of the place.
"He attacked Gerry's daughter three nights ago", Mr Romero grimaced, "He's up at Sacred Heart seeing to her now".
"Dear God have mercy on her", Starlet blessed herself, "I'll go and see Mr and Mrs Russo after our shift".
"Jackie would appreciate that Starlet, really, Darcy always felt like she could talk to you", Joey sighed, patting her firmly on the shoulder.
Starlet smiled and began going about her adored work. She loved the diner best at 2 o'clock, during the busy lunch rush. The diner grossed most of its income from its regulars, those of who had to be a blip in the rancid city because they were the warmest, most thoughtful and kind people that she had the pleasure of encountering each day. Starlet's smiles were never false as she served them their food and refilled their coffees. She knew all by name and enquired after their wellbeing and health. They would smile back, crack jokes. Although Starlet herself had no Italian heritage to claim, the community of the neighbourhood welcomed her in nonetheless.
"Hey, you still coming to my party Thursday?" Melany asked as they chatted at the busting station.
Starlet felt her stomach tighten, "Well uhm, I think I have a shift in Rory's", she told her quietly.
"Bullshit", Melany stated simply, "Tracy Stevenson on the bar Thursday, it's the quiz night and the bitch is always on it".
Starlet flushed pink, embarrassed having been caught out in a lie, "I'm sorry Mel, but Esme really hates it when I go out and I don't want to kick up a fuss with her.
"So, fuck the cow", Melany cussed, "You never go out, never see any of your friends, you aren't a prisoner to Esme".
"I know I'm not", Starlet grumbled defensively.
"Prove it", Melany raised a brow, "Come to the party, have a bit of fun, have a beer, get a fuck, be a teenager for once".
Starlet bit her lip, "I'll see if I can make it".
"I take it that it's the best you can give me", Melany laugh.
"You know me too well", Starlet told her honestly, delving back into her work.
Michael Langdon was absolutely famished. Broken, beaten, and exhausted, all alone in the world. Miriam Mead was dead, as were the warlocks who had supported his claim as Supreme. No friends, no allies, not even his father would answer him. Why would he? What use could he possibly be to Satan in such a sorry state? He was hopeless, but most of all, he was hungry. Really fucking hungry.
He was stumbling through an unknown city, caked in the dirt of the woods, and the blood of the ram he killed. Every passerby stared at him in shock and horror. Not that he cared, he used to, before he knew better. Please, Father, he thought, please, I am so lost, I am begging you again, put me back on the right path. Send me someone to guide me, a teacher, a guide, please, I need someone to show me the way Father, let your will be done through them. I can't find my purpose alone.
"Hey, hey you!" he heard a gruff man shout, but he ignored him, continuing to shuffle forward. "Hey, hey, hey, I'm talking to you fag!" Michael felt his body tense, and his eyes heat up, as the rage within him rose to the surface. However, as quickly as it came, it subsided, his mortal half too weak to sustain it.
The man jogged so that he was in front of him, he was large and heaving, with a putrid face, ridden with years of alcoholism. "Hey buddy, was' wrong, havin' some trouble?"
Michael glared at him, "I will only say this once, get out of my way", he growled.
"Come on come on come on", the man sang tunelessly, "I know what you need, I've got what will make it all go away".
In a moment of weakness, Michael's curiosity was peaked, how could it be possible that such a rancid waste of meat would have something of the sort? That would make his pain go away? He hesitated, everyone else has betrayed him, people of a far higher calibre, this man was simply a wheezing pig. "No thanks", he growled and tried to step away from him. But clearly, he had other ideas, as he grabbed on tightly to Michael's arm, "Come on come on", he smiled a toothy grin, "Got lot's a' balloons, betcha you like balloons boy". Michael could feel his anger growing, but he was so weak, his demonic and mortal side fought for dominance, desperate to have their own outcomes.
"I said –
"Billy! Joey told you to stop haunting around here! Leave him alone!" Both men were stunned to hear a female voice, and the man, Billy the pig, released his grip. He spun to see Starlet standing before him, still in her waitress uniform, looking both weary and confident.
"Fucking Starlet, clear off were you ain't wanted", he spat.
"Want me to get the fellas out? They all still want a piece a' you after what you did to Gerry's daughter", Starlet growled.
"Didn't do nothin to the bitch", he countered angrily.
"You bottled her".
"She wouldn't blow me". Starlet's eyes darkened, "Go, Billy, before I start yelling!" she said, much more loudly this time. The heavy-set man leered at her, before spitting on the ground where Michael lay and hurried off back down the alley.
Michael was still transfixed by the woman before him. Beautiful, but very thin, and weary-looking, her demeanour confused him; as she radiated both total innocence and a hardened notion of life. But what interested him most, was her aura, he could see it very clearly, she had a glowing white silhouette. "Are you alright?" she asked, as she knelt beside him, "Billy's a scoundrel, but that's heroin dealers for you, mind he shoots up most of what he is meant to sell", she rambled on a bit, but Michael's gaze was still fixed unblinkingly on her. She was beautiful, but those eyes, there was something to her eyes that he could not place. Starlet mistook his silence to be either drug-induced or a result of some concussion. She reached up a hand, placing it gently on his forehead, "Are you okay though, he didn't rough you, did he? Wouldn't be the first time he injected some poor soul … are you ill?"
"I'm, … tired", Michael finally answered, and Starlet seemed almost surprised to hear him speak.
"You look tired", Starlet blurted, and once reading his expression, felt embarrassed, "Of course I mean, you look like you've been through the wars, were you mugged or something?"
"Or something", Michael repeated. Starlet chewed on her lower lip, "Come on, let me help you up", she offered him her hands, which he analysed with a great deal of uncertainty, why was she helping him? What was her goal in this? Starlet felt her discomfort grow with every second he remained staring at her, "I don't bite", she laughed uneasily, and Michael gazed up at her with a serious glare, "But I do", and yet, he took her hands, and she helped haul him to his feet. Michael staggered for a moment before finding his balance, his body clearly suffering from the four days of no food and no sleep.
"Do you live around here? Want me to call you a cab?" Starlet asked, trying her best to help the young man.
"No, and I don't", he answered abrasively.
"Have you got anywhere you can go?" she continued to query.
"No".
Starlet chewed her lip once more, she wasn't exactly considering it, was she? She did not know this man, hell, he could be in on a double act with Billy. But as she looked at him once more, how lost he appeared to her … she knew he was all alone.
"Come on, I'm on my way home anyhow, you can come with me", Starlet smiled serenely up at him, but Michael seemed surprised, "You don't know me", he stated, "Why would you help me?"
Starlet smiled, "For I was hungry, and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty, and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in".
Michael grimaced, "What book of the bible is that from?"
"Mathew, verse twenty-five", Starlet told him, "We should be going, it will be getting dark really soon". Michael readied himself, but Starlet hesitated, placing a hand on his shoulder, "Wait", she stopped him, "I don't even know your name".
Michael scanned the girl over for what must have been the fifth time since meeting her, "Michael, Michael Langdon".
She smiled, "Starlet Bennet".
"You'll have to excuse the four flights", Starlet called, "The elevator is busted".
"Shouldn't you get it fixed then?" Michael grumbled.
"Hah, like the Land Lord cares", Starlet rolled her eyes. She fumbled with the keys inside her purse, listening intently at the door. Maybe she's gone out already, or she's passed out in her room, Starlet silently prayed. Michael was close behind her, it was too late now. Inside was freezing cold, with the window that never closed. Starlet felt her breath hitch as she waited, waited to see if the chaos would begin. But the silence prevailed, and there was safety in that.
Michael grimaced as his eyes took in the sight of the tiny apartment, no bigger than a room. It was dark, old, and filled with broken things, but meticulously clean. Starlet could see Michael's apprehension at her homestead and found herself once more embarrassed by her meagre means of existence, "It's not much", she mumbled, "But it's home".
"You're poor", he stated coolly, "No wonder you have religion".
Starlet stood wide-eyed, not knowing what to make of his comment, rather she decided to let it slide. "Have a seat, please", she gestured, "I'll fix something for dinner".
Michael glanced all around him, choosing the couch as the most ideal option. Starlet began to juggle with the groceries, Esme will be furious that none of the money went towards cigarettes or wine, but Starlet was more practical, you could chew tobacco, but you couldn't eat it.
Out came the pots and pans, and the cooking went into full sway, Michael said nothing as she worked, all he did was stare, desponded at his hands. Perhaps he thought the gentle lines traced across his palms would reveal some deep, hidden truth to which he was unaware. Perhaps scry something as the warlocks had taught him. But, there was nothing, just skin.
Starlet tried her best not to, but she couldn't help but continue to steal glances at her guest. He was, unlike anything she had ever seen before, and she lived in Los Angeles. The city had always been filled with lost souls trying desperately to be different, dressing in outlandishly gothic clothing, studded with all things black and Victorian, but that was always cheap. Knock-offs procured through vintage thrift stores and Amazon warehouse deals. It was an image, a statement, a show … this man was genuine. He wasn't dressed for an audience, he didn't hold himself a certain way to be better seen by more people. He was just … him … whoever that was.
"I hope you like casserole", she tried to smile as she lay the table, "Chicken casserole". Whatever spell that kept Michael in his deathly silence seemed to be broken from the savoury smells that emanated from her oven.
"Never had it", he told her honestly.
"Well, there is a first time for everything", she laughed. Michael took the seat opposite her at the tiny table, that could barely fit two people.
Starlet piled his plate high with casserole and bread rolls, and poured him a large glass of RC before she had barely begun to place food on her own plate, Michael started to wolf down the meal before him. "You poor thing", Starlet gasped, "When was the last time you ate?"
Starlet received no answer as the man before her did all but lick the plate clean within the space of five minutes. She was surprised to see that he still looked half-starved, and so quickly offered him a second helping, which he took gladly, it was only four helpings later that Michael seemed to finally quench the ravenous hunger which had overtaken him. "God in heaven, you'll eat me out of house and home!" Starlet joked as she piled the dishes into the sink, Michael still sat at the table, downing his third glass of RC. "Four days of no food will do that to you", he muttered sullenly.
"Four days?" Starlet exclaimed, "What the hell happened to you, Michael? You weren't strung up by Jack's boys where you?"
"I don't know who that is", Michael shrugged.
Starlet wagged her head, "You really aren't from around here, are you?"
"I was born in LA", he muttered, "Just, not in this part".
"Well, I was born in Massachusetts, if you can believe that", Starlet tried to continue the conversation, but clearly, she had got Michael's attention.
He rose quickly from his chair, "What part of Massachusetts?" he demanded, and when Starlet turned to look at him, a sliver of panic rose in her chest. Those striking blue eyes now appeared much darker, and he had a determined look of rage etched upon his face.
"Uh, S, Salem", she stuttered.
It was like a crack of lightning, how quickly Michael had her pressed up against the kitchen counter, pinned down and unable to move. Starlet cried out, but no sound was made as Michael clamped his long slender fingers around her throat. "There wouldn't be any relation to the witches of Salem, would there?" he hissed, and it was his words, how he spoke which such a dark, domineering command that terrified Starlet the most.
"Witches?" she gasped, barely able to breathe with the whole weight of Michael's body on top of her own, "Of, of course not, no! L-look at me, do, do you think I would be here if I was a witch?" Starlet knew, just like everyone else in America about the existence of witches, after their Leader, Cordelia Goode, went public to the world in 2014.
Michael sensed that the young girl was telling the truth, and quickly released her from his hold, placing space between them. Starlet had to catch herself from collapsing, clinging desperately to the counter as she choked hoarsely. Her whole body was trembling with adrenaline and fear, the attack was so sudden, so seemingly unprovoked, it scared her, Michael scared her, even as he appeared before her now, still with that face, so beautiful, so graceful as though it was chiselled from marble, and yet so horrifying in its solemn darkness. "I, I think you should go", she whispered, too petrified of his reaction to look up from the ground.
As his anger cooled, Michael drank in her words, and he saw her no longer as a threat, but as a terrified, trembling girl, one which he had created, he did this. That small, small pounding of guilt echoed in his skull, that sliver of humanity that refused to die told him that not only what he had done to her was wrong, but that he also needed her. Ms Mead, Ariel, everyone, all his allies were dead. He had nowhere to go. He had begged his Father to send him someone, maybe, Starlet was that someone.
"Wait", he spoke softly, almost with innocence. Starlet looked up fearfully but saw that his whole demeanour had changed. His eyes were no longer terrifying, they appeared lost and full of uncertainty, his face had softened entirely. "Please, I'm, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you … what I've been through these last few days, I, I need help". Starlet was completely disarmed by this sudden and striking change, it was as though in two seconds, Michael had altered between two extreme personalities. "Michael I –
"You've been so kind to me", he interrupted quickly, desperate to influence her, "I've lost the people I cared about, I have no one else to help me, please, I swear, I will never hurt you again". He slowly walked forward, and Starlet found herself cowering against the counter. Michael acknowledged this, and moved very slowly, he reached forward, reaching for her hand which he clasped within his own, it appeared much too small, too delicate, and so he held it carefully, "I promise".
Starlet was at a loss for words, here was this man, clearly much older than herself, who seemed no more than a lost child, practically begging her for shelter, it was still not enough to make her forget what had just transpired, and she was still very much afraid. But as she was caught, transfixed by those impossibly blue eyes, it was as though she was compelled to give in. An intruding thought entered her mind, what would her mother do? Where would you be if Auntie Esme had not agreed to take you in, so young, that little twelve-year-old-girl? Starlet sucked in a breath, closing her eyes as she nodded, "Okay, okay, you can stay here Michael, I'll do my best to help you", she answered him weakly. The words seemed foreign to her like they were not hers.
Suddenly, Michael's face lit up with a radiance that looked simply ethereal, as he smiled brightly and clasped her hand tightly, "Thank you Starlet".
"You're welcome Michael".
"I knew there would be some clothes around here", Starlet smiled in triumph as she climbed down from the latter, "My cousin David use to stay here a lot, he was roughly about your size", Starlet continued to speak as she walked back into the tiny living area, where Michael had been sitting on the couch, "You can wear them, at least until I get your clothes cleaned", she gestured to the shirt and trousers he adorned, both looking like they had been teleported from the trenches of 1918, with the amount of blood and filth. Starlet pointed down the hall, "There is a bathroom down there, tiny, but clean, you can have a shower, and I put a fresh blade in the razor if you need it". Michael simply nodded his response and swiftly made his way in the direction she had shown him. The girl was right, the bathroom was small, but it was very clean. Still, a far cry from the luxury he had enjoyed living in the Hawthorne School for Exceptional Young Men, but it was better than nothing. Michael relished as all the dirt and filth was washed clean of his body, which felt emaciated under the touch of his fingertips, the last test of the seven wonders had taken a toll on him, and his time wandering the woods had only added to that, his mind burned with a venomous rage, he was desperate to enact his revenge on the witches, but how could that be possible when he could barely defend himself from a putrid, overweight junkie? No, he needed to gather his strength, rebuild a power base, damn, he needed to do something. He couldn't just wander the streets of LA hoping for a sign.
Starlet knew Michael was finished when the sound of water running was replaced by the guttural groans of the pipes. She had pulled out the bed of the couch and brought out the pillows from her own bed, and some clean sheets she had yet to return to the motel. She hoped it would suffice, she felt so out of place in the situation, she had practically swooped a homeless man off the streets, fed him, dressed him, and was now offering him a bed, what had gotten into her? It was her Christian duty of course to help those in need, but she dare say that she was probably the first in her little Church to practice it to such an extent. Human Kindness was not as far reaching these days.
"The water pressure isn't the best is it?" she heard him complain.
"Does that really surprise you after everything", she laughed, turning to face him, "I mean – Michael!" she squealed, throwing her hands to cover her eyes of the visage of the stark-naked man before her.
Michael couldn't understand her embarrassment, watching with curiosity as her cheeks tinged bright pink, nakedness was common practice in both satanic and warlock rituals, and yet Starlet shrank from him. With eyes firmly shut she waved her hands frantically, "Towels! They're behind the door!" Michael shrugged but obliged the modest girl by walking back into the bathroom and wrapping a white towel around his waist.
"Are you decent?" Starlet called uncertainly.
"Never", Michael responded promptly, "Although I have clothes on if that's what you're asking".
Starlet rolled her eyes, perhaps she had made the assumption of him not being a wannabe far too soon. She opened her eyes to thankfully see his lower half concealed by one of the few towels they had, (again on loan from the motel). "Well I wouldn't say clothed exactly", she shifted uneasily, "but it is a decided improvement".
Michael did nothing more but shrug his shoulders, before glancing oddly at the transformed couch, Starlet followed his gaze, "It's a pull-out bed, I'm sorry it's all we have but –
"What about the other room?" he quickly interjected. Starlet's face blanched to an even paler white, she quickly glanced down at her feet, shifting slightly, "Well, that's my Auntie's room, you see", she confessed, "I checked in, she must have gone back to the Emerald Room, Michael", she sucked in a breath, "Look, I probably should warn you, seeing as you'll be staying here a while … my Auntie Esme can be, well, a bit of a handful".
"Meaning?" Michael pried impatiently, fast becoming irritated by the girl's tendency to ramble.
"She drinks quite a bit, and she hates men. She might throw a fit when she sees you – but I can handle her. Just, no matter what you see or hear, don't get involved, okay?" Starlet looked up at him pleadingly.
I don't care enough to get involved, he thought but was wiser than to say so, "I won't", he told her.
"Okay, okay", the girl sucked in a breath as she racked a hand through her pale hair, "I'll go put your dirty clothes in the wash, feel free to make yourself comfortable, it's actually past eleven, if you can believe it", and with that she scurried off out of sight.
Michael prodded the lumpy mattress of the makeshift bed, his face grimacing. He'd slept in worse, the cell in which they had detained him in after killing the butcher springs to mind. Despite his reservations, Michael sprawled himself out, the only comfortable thing was the pillows, he inhaled deeply, they smelled like Lavender and fresh cotton, a scent he found extremely inviting. He buried his head deep into the pillows, relishing with delight their softness, he had planned to wait up for Starlet, but Michael had underestimated just how exhausted he actually was, and in a matter of minutes, a deep sleep enveloped him completely.
"I will kill, every single one of you", Michael hissed, glaring Cordelia down, he was trembling with a rage he had never known before, he felt the darkness overpour from his blackened heart, filling every crevice of his body.
He rose slowly to his feet, "Everyone you care about, will die screaming" he snarled.
Cordelia, confident, simply laughed, "You couldn't make a mouse flinch, you're finished Michael, there is no one here to help you, and what are you without them? Nothing. You are nothing".
"No, I'm not!" Michael barked, shaking to his core.
"Of course, you are", Michael turned to see the ridiculous witch, Myrtle Snow, standing behind him, "You're a man and not an adequate specimen at that, how could you be anything more than nothing?"
"How disappointed your father must be", Zoe appeared on another side, tutting, "Who would want a son like you?" Michael felt himself beginning to panic as more and more faces appeared to be circling him.
"I didn't even want you", Constance Langdon snarled, "And all my babies were monsters".
"You're just something else sicko", Tate Langdon hissed, "You freak!"
"Freak!" All the faces chorused.
"Leave me alone!" Michael bellowed, his confidence slipping, "My Father loves me, he has a plan for me!"
"Your Father doesn't care jack shit about you", Madison cackled, "And why would he, you're just a little fuck up".
"Shut up, shut up!" Michael howled, covering his ears, "My Father loves me!"
"Loves you enough to leave you to die in the woods", Cordelia sneered.
"You left me to burn Michael", he froze as he heard the very person he loved most in the world moan in pain, all the others had vanished, only a horrifically burned Ms Mead remained, "I loved you, truly I loved you, and you left me to die".
His eyes brimmed with tears, "Ms, Ms Mead, my Ms Mead, I didn't know, I didn't know … I would have saved you".
"But you didn't!" she wailed, "You left me to burn!" She chanted it over and over, the words began to cut his ears like glass, making them bleed. He clamped his hands tightly over his ears, "Stop! Please stop it!"
"You left me to burn, left me to burn, left me to burn!"
"STOP!"
"Michael, Michael!" He woke up gasping for breath and bolted upright. Visions of his beloved Ms Mead, the witches, and his Father still haunting him, he could still feel the flames licking his body. Then, a cool hand, pressed against his cheek, and he was brought back to reality. He saw Starlet in the dark, holding a glass of water. Her hair was let down long, and her skin looked almost transparent in the night. "Michael it's okay, you were having a nightmare".
He was panting heavily as he wiped his forehead, it was a dream, but it felt very real, was it his Father really trying to reach out to him? Starlet cautiously handed him the water, which Michael took gratefully, downing it in two gulps.
"I get them all 'a time", she tried to smile, but frowned when she saw Michael gave her a puzzled look, "The nightmares I mean, nothin a glass of water and some light can't chase away". She gestured towards the lamp she had turned on, it's shade was absolutely falling apart, but the girl was right, the frail light, was somewhat comforting. Starlet couldn't shake the extreme feeling of awkwardness around him, having been made well aware of the strange man's temperament, she was wary of saying anything that might set him off.
He still didn't respond to her, which only added to Starlet's feelings of uneasiness, "Things will be better when the sun comes up", she said
"You're annoyingly optimistic", Michael rolled his eyes, "Which is surprising for your circumstances".
You left me to burn Michael, you threw me to the fire, I loved you like a son, and you let them burn me, he flinched, Ms Mead's voice haunting him still even while awake.
"What should I do then? Wallow in self-pity? What kind of life would I have then?" Starlet challenged him, her patience wearing thin on his constant need to criticise how she lived, it wasn't exactly like she had a choice in the matter, "and besides", she grew braver, "are you in the position to complain?" Starlet shifted herself from her knees, walking over to the window that never properly closed. She wedged it further open, and slipped the single cigarette from her sock, pressing it to her lips. Michael meditated on her words as he watched her curiously, the girl lit up the cigarette with a match plucked from behind her ear, which she scratched on the window pane. "So, the saint does have a flaw", he mused, "filling your lungs with cancer".
"I'm hoping it will kill me quicker", Starlet grimaced darkly, and Michael understood perfectly that she was only half joking.
"You have a spare?" he asked.
"Do you smoke?"
"No".
"Then why start?"
"For the sensation".
Starlet was puzzled by his reasoning, but once more decided not to question Michael further, instead, she delved into her opposite sock, tossing him her last cigarette and a match. Michael lit the cigarette himself when Starlet wasn't looking, not bothering with the match, he had elected not to reveal his powers to the girl early on in their meeting, fearful that it would be the last straw for her. Michael copied Starlet in her movements, pressing the cigarette in between his lips and inhaling deeply. It was like a sharp cut to the back of his throat, but he dared not show weakness and cough. He exhaled quickly, the smoke filling the room. "You're a natural", Starlet laughed, then jumped, "Shit come over here, I don't want Esme to smell the smoke, she'll kill me".
Michael obliged the girl, kicking off the sheets and walking towards the window, still with the cigarette hanging from his mouth.
"She hates people smoking?"
Starlet smirked, "Nah, she'll just kill us for smoking her cigarettes".
Michael hid a small smile as he took another draw, "So there is a bit of rebellion in you".
Starlet looked up at him, trying to read his evasive expression, "I suppose there is", she mused.
Their moment of peace was quickly thrown into chaos as they heard a loud bang at the door, Michael watched as all the colour drained from Starlet's face as she immediately flicked the half cigarette out the window.
"Where, the fuck, the fuck are my keys?" Esme slurred.
Starlet bolted to the door, keys in hand to let in her intoxicated aunt. She swung the door open, hitting Starlet sharply in her side, she seemed to take it in her stride as she waked after her.
Esme was a tall, attractive woman, with dark hair and eyes, made even darker by her thick eyeliner. Dressed all in black with warm olive skin, however, her extreme beauty was overpowered by the stench of alcohol that radiated from her body. She swayed to and fro, with a mean look on her face. "And where the hell have you been all damn day?" she snarled viciously, pointing a finger at her niece.
"I was working Esme", Starlet replied meekly.
"And? Have you been working? Where's the money, huh?" Esme snapped, extending her hand.
Starlet dashed to the side of the couch, picking up her purse, she handed Esme two envelopes rather reluctantly, "My week salary from the motel and my tips from Joey's, paychecks don't come in till next week, I got groceries too", she mumbled as Esme quickly tore open the slips, emptying the notes into her hands. Still swaying, she clumsily counted out the cash, sneering when she finished. "This it?"
"Well I did get groceries and pay the gas bill", Starlet knew there would be no reasoning with her in that state.
Esme glared darkly, "Betcha if you gave old Malkovich a hummer he'd pay you more".
"Auntie!" Starlet tried to protest, her face filling with shame.
This all unfolded with Michael watching on curiously, still standing next to the window with the older woman not yet to recognise his presence. Esme threw her head back and laughed darkly, wagging her finger, "You'd like that, uh, missy? I – I know you, Mary Norvell saw you, walking, walking with some boy" she almost spat the word with venomous hatred, "You like boys now, huh?"
"Auntie, please –
"Don't fucking call me that!" Esme swayed too far and toppled over, slamming her head into the wall.
Starlet bolted after her, going quickly to her Aunt's aide. "I don't, I don't need your help", she growled, wavering as she hauled herself up, "I don't need, I don't need…" It was then that her jade eyes fixed on Michael, and it was as though her whole countenance became almost bestial. She steadied herself, her spine seeming to coil as if on the defensive, her eyes narrowing to near slits as she pursed her lips into a sharp scowl. Michael could feel her burning eyes on him but steadied himself to project a cool, calm exterior, watching her carefully. Esme gripped her niece's wrist tightly, digging her fingernails deep into her soft skin.
"Esme, let me go", Starlet begged her quietly, her voice barely more than a whisper.
Her plea fell on deaf ears, and only served to fuel Esme's rage. "So", she laughed darkly, her whole-body trembling, "This is the boy?" She yanked Starlet forward like a ragdoll, glaring down at her, "You, you brought, a man, into my home?"
"Esme, please, just listen, I can explain –
"You, you brought a man into my home, after what men did to me?" Her voice booming in the tiny room.
Starlet opened her mouth to speak, but before the words could leave her mouth, Esme roared and slapped the younger woman hard across her cheek. Starlet stumbled back, tears pricking her eyes, but not looking particularly stunned. Her cheek had already turned a bright scarlet, and blood trickled where one of Esme's fingernails had cut her.
Michael wasn't surprised by the sudden outburst of violence; however, he feigned a fake look of shock on his face, knowing that would have been the acceptable response to witnessing familial violence.
Starlet felt a deep mortification that hurt worse than the physical pain. She couldn't lift her eyes to look at Michael, extremely embarrassed that he had seen Esme hit her, and more so, of what she knew was going to happen next. Esme whipped her head around, glaring at her niece. "Haven't I taught you about men, Starlet, have I taught you nothing?" Starlet did not answer her aunt and kept her head hung low.
"Yes Esme", she whispered, her Aunt grasped Starlet's chin by her slender fingers, "That's a good girl", she hushed, she grabbed her arm tightly, hauling into her bedroom, "Esme, please, please no, no no no" Starlet tried to protest, but Esme persisted, and all Starlet could do was weep as she was dragged inside.
Michael this time however, was more confused, unsure of what he was witnessing, that part of him that was still touched with innocence unable to fathom to concept of such torture. But he had spent much time in the service of his Father, and from the teachings of his beloved Ms Mead, it did not take him long to grasp the situation in its entirety. He glanced at Starlet, why didn't she fight back?
Esme slammed the bedroom door shut behind her, throwing Starlet to the opposite side of the room. She was shaking violently, tears streaming down her face, "Auntie, p-please", she stammered, which only reignited Esme's rage, "What did I fucking say about calling me that?" she roared, lunging for her throat. Starlet clawed desperately at the older woman's hands, trying to prise them from her neck. But she wasn't strong enough, and Esme manoeuvred her over towards the bed. "Esme please, please I don't want to", she cried as she was thrown down onto the mattress. Esme ignored her pleas as she fumbled forward.
But then, before the horror of her normal routine could occur, she stopped.
Starlet tore her eyes away from the ground long enough to look up at her Aunt. Esme's eyes were fixed on the ceiling, her whole-body rigid as she appeared to be standing on her tip toes, with her lips tightly shut.
"E-Esme, are you alright?" the younger girl trembled, but she received no answer. Starlet quickly pulled in her legs beneath her, clutching her knees like a small child. But still, her Aunt remained in deathly silence. The door opened slowly, and Starlet watched cautiously as Michael walked softly into the room. "I think she is having a seizure", she whispered fearfully, Michael shrugged his shoulders and complacently placed his fingers on the older woman's throat, pretending to check for a pulse. "She's fine, she just needs to go to bed", Esme seemed to respond as though Michael had commanded her, her body snapping into action as she frog-marched to the bed, jumped in and threw the covers over herself without uttering a word.
Starlet was left in a state of bewilderment as she gaped at the older woman, her demeanour completely thrown by her Aunt's erratic behaviour, however she felt her attention drawn from the woman, as Michael placed a hand on her shoulder, "You want to get out of here", he told her coolly, and Starlet felt the thought instantly resonate as her own, "I want to get out of her", she nodded, and lifted herself up and walked briskly out of the room. Michael wavered over Esme for a moment, smirking darkly to himself as the woman, paralysed in her bed, gazed up at him in terror. He pressed his forefinger to his lips, hushing her whimpering, before following Starlet out of the room.
She sat poised upright on the sofa, staring out the window, watching the L tracks go by. "I like the trains", she spoke without looking at Michael, "I like to think of the places they're going".
"People find comfort in the idea that there are better places out there, better places to go", he contemplated.
Silence fell between them, and Starlet's head dropped, her golden hair cloaking her like a burdening halo. "It doesn't happen all the time", she finally blurted out, "She gets drunk, too drunk to realise anything, she hates men, she was gang-raped when she was our age".
Michael mulled her words in his mind, wanting to chastise her for her petty excuses. But once again he went with his better judgement and did not speak his true mind, "It must be difficult".
"It's not", she growled sharply, and she turned to him, even in the dark, it was clear for Michael to see the tears welling in her eyes. "Please forget it", she begged him, "Just, forget that it happened".
"Okay", he promised her, and she sighed with relief, "I think I'm going to go back to bed now", she mumbled.
"Okay", Michael repeated as she wearily made her way to her own bedroom, but as she walked away he felt a deep pull in his stomach, his human desires clawing desperately under his skin. "Starlet", he called, and she stopped to face him, "Yes Michael?"
He wavered a moment, "You deserve better".
Starlet smiled sadly, tucking a loose piece of hair behind her ear, "The thing is Michael, I don't".
And she quickly slipped inside her room, leaving Michael in the silence and the dark.
I hope you guys enjoyed the first chapter!