The church bell rang somewhere above the blonde nun, indicating she had been sitting here longer than she had originally planned. She had come to God for salvation, any sign of relief from this torment that she was going through. Her mouth repeated the same payers over and over again, until she didn't even have to think to move her mouth.

She hadn't spoken to the brunette ever since the night before, when she had finally seen the end of the road. Her heart physically hurt. It didn't feel like someone was squeezing the heart though; it felt like someone was pinching the every blood vessel around the heart, giving her a constant sharp pain in the chest. How odd was that. It was as if her body was trying to find another outlet, because she could no longer shed a tear.

Mary bit her lip and bowed her head, not realizing someone approaching where she sat.

The sound of shoes stopped only a couple of feet away from the blonde. And it took some time for Mary to feel the gaze on herself, but when she looked up, there was a young boy in his late teens.

He stood with his eyes on the nun, a blank expression on his face. "Something is troubling you, sister," the boy spoke quietly. "Is there anything I can do?"

The nun offered him a gentle smile, but shook her head. "I don't think so, but–"

"But your heart tells me otherwise," the boy stated, causing Mary to shut up. "You miss her."

The blonde's eyes flew to the boy. "I beg your pardon?" Her heart started to beat a little faster. How did he know it's a she?

"Your precious Miss. Lana Banana."

Shivers run through Mary's spine. And she realized the glow in his eyes weren't the reflection of the light coming though the stained glass. It was the color of his eyes.

"I have what you need." His mouth formed a lop-sided smirk, while his eyes flickered golden. "Say, Mary," he continued. "What would you give, to have your Lana back?"

00000000

Lana looked out the window of her office with a cup of coffee in her hands. The voice of her blonde lover had been the main occupant of her mind that afternoon, playing the scene from the night before on repeat like a broken radio.

Mary had a point, she had to admit. Her narcissistic tendency had led her to believe she had made the devil fall for her, not minding the fact that there was also a girl inside the body.

Taking a sip from the mug cup, her brown eyes scanned the garden under the window. There were so many plants and flowers in their little garden; scratch that, it was Mary's garden. The blonde had a passion for plants. Every year, a new type of flowers was planted to mark their anniversary. The garden had roses of many colors, white and red carnations, yellow and red tulips, and anemones. Lana herself wasn't so familiar with flowers and plants, so even though the blonde had told her what those flowers meant, she just couldn't remember. One thing she knew was that all of them symbolized love.

Was it the devil who loved gardening, or was it Mary Eunice? Lana must confess she had been surprised and confused the first time the blonde had shown an infatuation for such a thing. It was simply hard to imagine the devil loving something of the earth, except for the brunette herself; but even that had been proven wrong. Perhaps, it had been the girl who loved everything all the time and the devil was merely an embodiment of desire.

Her brows were knotted together, her teeth biting the one place of her bottom lip. And suddenly, something struck her, and Lana almost run to her purse for her notepad. The slim fingers turning pages, and there it was; red lines circling around today's date. Things had been so hectic it was easy to forget, or ignore, their anniversary.

Was it too late to make it right? Lana walked to the window and stared at the flowers. If the one that had always tended to the garden was the innocent nun instead of the devil, Lana had a reason to fight for this love. She just couldn't imagine her life without the other.

0000000

The brunette hummed to the soft music while anxiously waiting for the blonde to come home. It was when she finished setting up the table that the door swung open and her lover walked in.

The heels of Mary's shoes made clicking sounds as she made her way further in the house. Her eyes observed the flowers on the dining table before settling on the brunette, who stood nervously.

"Hi," Lana offered her a coy smile. Waving at the table, she figured an explanation was needed. "I just…realized it was our anniversary, so…"

But the nun didn't give her a response. While her eyes were trained on the brunette, she raised an eyebrow to beckon the other.

Lana bit her lip. Taking a deep breath, she repeated the speech she had prepared. "I've been thinking about us a lot, what you said to me last night. And…" She shook her head. "I've been an asshole. I'm sorry. It's just…It feels so bizarre, the whole thing? I'm still–" Seeing herself just making an excuse, she cleared her throat, chiding herself internally. The brown eyes bored into the blue ones once again. "I want you to stay here, with me. I want us to start this over again. You are a great person, Mary. And I think I can love you as much as you love me. No Satan. Just Mary Eunice McKee."

She grabbed the box from the table and opened it for the other, the pearls shining faintly under the dim light. "I want to see you wear them, if you'd like, that is."

A larger smile appeared on the brunette's face when the blonde took the box from her. But her eyes lost their sparks as she watched Mary sigh and put it back down on the table.

"You never learn, do you, Miss. Banana?" Mary tilted her head. It was barely a whisper, but still full of disappointment and disdain.

Lana looked at her hurt, and her lungs seemed to have stopped functioning as the taller woman pushed her against the wall. One hand on her waist, and the other flat against the wall, leaning in to the brunette.

"Next time, bring me rubies," Mary whispered in her ear. Lana trembled at the cold feeling through her spine, and when the blonde pulled back, their eyes met. The journalist watched Mary's face with her mouth agape, and she could feel hot liquid filling her eyes. "Ones that match the blood in your veins," the blonde uttered.

Lana couldn't find her voice, nor could she avert her eyes from the blonde. So she weakly shook her head, hoping her eyes would convey her indescribable emotions.

The blonde's cold hand moved from the wall to under Lana's shirt. Feeling goosebumps on her fingertips, Mary kept staring into the dark abyss of the brunette's eyes.

"Why are you crying?"

Mary asked almost inaudibly, her nails scratching the stomach, leaving angry red lines that would soon disappear.

####

"Anything. But not to you," the nun answered to the boy firmly. "You bring so much pain to her."

"Touché," the devil shrugged mockingly as Mary stood up and walked away from him. "She will love you," he said to her back. "She will spend her whole life with you."

The blonde turned around to look at him, who stood under the cross of Jesus Christ. There was some kind of a glow around him that Mary had so long desired. And it reminded her why she had eventually accepted the devil. It was power. It meant no fear and no pain. It was everything in the world and the universe.

As if he could read her mind (he definitely could), a smirk appeared on his mouth. The blonde was nothing but a powerless rabbit trembling in front of a lion. "But she will always be searching for me."

And the claws finally caught the rabbit.

Mary stood there paralyzed, cursing the sadistic monster before her. But nobody knew how true it was than herself. She had seen the way her brunette lover smiled at her; Lana would never smile at her the same way sheever had at the devil.

The white fur of the rabbit was slowly turning into crimson red.

She bit her lip to hold her sobs. Feeling tears roll down her cheek, she glared at the gold eyes looking back at her.

####

Her nails scratched Lana's stomach again. The brunette heard herself whimper in pain, terror, or perhaps something bitterer.

"Why are you crying?" the blonde whispered one more time.

Lana cried silently, her vision unclear; but never blurry enough to miss the tears in the golden eyes of her lover.

"You mean to tell me you're mourning the loss of someone who never existed?"

Taylor Nadeau, The Death of Edwin Hubble

~END~


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