Devils Like Us

CHAPTER 1

A MIRAGE OF COMFORT

Dawn slipped in like a thief with a grudge and snatched away the last shreds of nighttime comfort. It draped the room in a stifling blanket of quiet, as if the air itself had thickened, saturated with the weight of unspoken confessions. The silence was a living thing, oozing into every corner, clinging to my skin like a shroud of sticky dread. It seeped into my bones, a venomous crawl that left behind a trail of jagged nerves and icy foreboding.

I jolted upright, my heart hammering against my ribs as if it were trying to break free. A hostage claiming innocence. The remnants of a nightmare clung to me, ghostly fingers scratching at the edges of my mind with a desperate, gnawing hunger, accusing me, insistent in its demand to recall. An inexplicable shiver curled in my stomach, a cold whisper of something sinister lurking just out of sight, waiting to pounce.

The room, once a haven of youthful dreams, was now a prison of decayed hopes. The posters, once bursting with color, had faded into grotesque shades of sickly green. They leered at me. Eyes that once smiled back from a world of imagination now sneered with malevolent glee. The peeling wallpaper and sagging books stood as eerie relics of a past I'd tried to shove into a forgotten corner, where everything that once mattered is broken, no longer relevant in a life such as mine.

I took a deep shaky breath and exhaled slowly, trying to still my racing heart. It’s all good, Jason. Just your mom’s place. No need to tweak. I thought to myself, but the words were swallowed by the oppressive silence. My return home since the start of college felt jarringly alien, a stark contrast to the late-night escapades and frantic study sessions that had become my new normal.

I glanced at the empty pillow beside me, its damp imprint a grim reminder of the restless night that just moments ago had shaken me; something I didn’t want to know. Or something I had known that had come back from the place where everything is broken. I didn’t want to fit the pieces together. I felt disjointed, uncomfortable. It grated on me, unreal yet as real as anything else.

Harsh sunlight sliced through the window, casting sharp beams that taunted my feeble attempts at finding peace in this cursed place.

For weeks now, these unnatural dreams had plagued me, each one more unsettling than the last. They started innocuously enough, a creeping darkness where nothing ever showed itself. Then came the orange glow—an atomic blaze that didn't burn but felt like knives cutting into my flesh.

Aiight, your move. Face the nightmares again and let them drag you down, or haul your ass out of bed and pretend everything’s fine. But deep down, I knew the darkness would follow me, no matter how fast I ran.

With a jolt, I crashed back onto the mattress, yanking the pillow over my face—the moment my alarm clock sprang to life. Fuck.

Reluctantly, I heaved myself up again. Brushing my teeth, pulling on my pants—it was all dreary and difficult, like wading through an ocean of muddy dread, a mechanical routine in a life that had lost its sparkle. Every action was an effort to fend off the shadows lurking in every crack. Finally leaving the oppressive gloom of my childhood home, I braced myself to pick up Kimberly from her hotel.

Sliding into my BMW E34 was like slipping into a time-traveling coffin, a relic from a forgotten age when reality seemed less tangled. The black leather seats, cracked and weary, wrapped around me like an old lover’s embrace, but the persistent shadow of unease gnawed at my insides. The city’s labyrinthine streets stretched before me, blurring into a surreal smear of uncertainty. Each turn was a descent deeper into a haze of faded memories, and I couldn’t shake the eerie feeling that invisible eyes were watching my every move.

The low growl of the car’s engine felt like an ominous heartbeat, echoing the tension coiled in my gut—a grim reminder of the lurking dangers just beyond the edge of perception. The cityscape loomed, an oppressive specter swallowing any hint of hope. Billboards, draped in shadows, loomed like silent guardians, their messages twisted into cryptic warnings that made no sense on the surface. Sure, I was smarter than this, intelligent enough to work this out to be nothing more than my own guilty imagination. Still… there was something that was not imagination. The mind and body played occasional tricks, but the sixth sense did not lie.

As I pulled beneath the hotel’s overhang, the dark blue BMW seemed to shrink, a ghost of its former self. The engine’s growl was now a mournful dirge, a desperate attempt to outrun the phantoms that danced just out of sight.

Kimberly awaited, an enigma herself, wrapped in contradictions. Her smile, sharp and cutting through the morning haze, was a blade of alluring danger.

Her defiant stride, accompanied by the playful disarray of her chestnut hair in the breeze, seemed to whisper secrets meant only for her ears. Dressed in faded denim shorts and a vintage tee, she exuded a nonchalant coolness. Her eyes, obscured by oversized sunglasses, always held a darkness that slithered beneath the surface. Yet, as she lowered the designer frames from her face, it was her hazel eyes—dancing with an unpredictable glimmer of mischief—that held me captive and sent icy shivers down my spine where there should be none.

Her presence was a magnetic paradox, a blend of salvation and destruction that promised both delirious pleasure and inevitable ruin. As I stepped out of the car to meet her, a shiver of anticipation and dread washed over me. What awaited in the enigmatic embrace of this woman—ecstasy or damnation—was a question I was both drawn to and terrified of answering.

Hey, stranger! I called out, trying to keep it light despite the flutter in my chest. Drawing her close, I wrapped her in a warm embrace, planting a tender kiss on her lips. We chuckled, each with our own thoughts about it, keeping secrets that only time, if we had enough of it, would tell.

Feels like we didn’t just share a five-hour flight, she quipped, her sunglasses sliding down her nose to reveal eyes that could ensnare even the most guarded soul. You ready for today’s adventure?

I laughed, more to ease my nerves than anything. Excited? Sure, let's go with that, I replied, keeping my tone casual, masking the turmoil beneath the surface. She doesn’t need to know about the latest dream. Let’s keep it cool and the momentum rolling.

A vibrant yellow bandana added an incongruous touch of brightness to her outfit, almost mocking the surrounding gloom I felt. With a quick swipe of shimmery lip gloss, she placed a subtle hint of glamour, a beacon of allure in an otherwise grim landscape. In Kimberly’s presence, there was an unsettling blend of laid-back ease and a predatory readiness, as if she was always poised to embrace whatever darkness the day had in store. Her presence was both a comfort and a threat, a reminder that even in the light of day, shadows still lingered.

Damn, what are you? A trust fund brat? she teased, her smile cutting through the morning haze with a feral edge. She slid into the car, her presence a potent mix of danger and beauty.

Yeah, yeah, it totally wrecks my 'bad boy' vibe, I know. Just don’t spill the beans back in New York, okay? I squinted through the grimy windshield, letting the sunlight pierce my tired eyes. My ride was filthy, but a wash was the last thing on my mind. Besides, looks can be deceiving—especially in this town. I forced a grin, scanning the street, half-expecting villains to leap out and pull us into the darkness.

"Totally. Wouldn’t want to mess up your street cred, she shot back, snapping her seatbelt into place with a sharp, decisive movement. So, how are you feeling about this whole… spectacle?"

Honestly? I'm about as thrilled as anyone can be at 9 AM… I guess, I said, trying to sound nonchalant. But my voice betrayed a hint of anxiety.

The air between us hummed with anticipation, thick with unspoken fears and hopes. Yeah, coming out to my mom’s gonna be a challenge... But hey, it’s hard not to want to show you off.

Kim had a resilience I deeply admired, born from her tough Brooklyn upbringing. She wasn’t just bubbly and playful; she had street smarts and a sharp mind, studying aeronautical engineering of all things.

Her response was a defiant grin, her messy curls bouncing with each word. Think she’ll like me? I went all out with the '80s look for her, she said, her voice laced with bravado masking the uncertainty beneath.

I couldn’t help but smile, a flicker of warmth breaking through the shadows. My hand found its way to the back of her head, fingers tangling in the wild strands, pulling her closer. Another kiss, tender yet desperate, a silent plea for reassurance in the face of uncertainty.

It looks perfect, babe, I murmured against her lips, my gaze drawn to the dark lenses that shielded her eyes from view. Even hidden behind the tinted glass, I could feel the weight of her stare, the warmth of her presence.

Besides, my mom’s been in sales forever. Even if she didn’t like you, you’d never know, I teased, a faint hint of challenge coloring my words. But beneath the laughter, there was a truth we both understood: in the end, all we could do was hold onto each other and hope for the best.

Kimberly and I glided through the sun-blasted veins of North Hollywood in my dated beamer, its engine a rattling beast that felt oddly alive, like it was fighting to be relevant, to survive in a world that did not appreciate relics. Our destination: Pat’s Diner, a greasy spoon haunt favored by the Hollywood elite, or so the lore went. Tucked away near the Warner Bros. lot, it was the kind of joint where whispers of celebrity sightings mingled with the smell of sizzling bacon. They only had outdoor seating, and the sun always beat down on you no matter where you ended up. If you got lucky, though, the servers always whispered of the chance to see Julia Roberts or even the illusive George Clooney, if you came at the right time. But there is never a right time.

As we wound our way through the canyon roads, the mid-morning sun threw jagged shadows across the cracked asphalt, conjuring an eerie ballet of light and darkness. Kimberly sat beside me. She suddenly seemed like a spectral figure as pieces of my nightmare rushed through me, flashbacks I could not explain. Her face somewhat obscured by her oversized sunglasses, her intention as veiled as her eyes, I couldn’t shake the sense of dread at the back of my thoughts, like stinging ants, poking me, prodding me to perdition.

The silence between us grew dense, almost tangible. I flicked on the radio, hoping to shatter the oppressive quiet. Static crackled before settling into the soft, haunting strum of The Smashing Pumpkins. The melody was a balm to my nerves, a bittersweet escape into a realm of neon nights and half-remembered dreams.

I glanced at Kim, her face an inscrutable mask softened by the glow of the music. We danced through the valley’s twists and turns, the road a serpentine reflection of the song’s ebb and flow. For a moment, the chaos of our mission was a distant memory, replaced by the simple pleasure of shared silence.

But as the last notes dwindled, the radio host’s voice sliced through the tranquility. Aiight folks, that was 'Rhinoceros' by the Smashing Pumpkins, bringing back some memories from the early '90s here on KXV8, he crooned. Now, let's rewind further with some late '70s disco flair. Here’s ABBA’s ‘Gimme, Gimme, Gimme (A Man After Midnight),’ straight from 1979. Keep it locked, keep it loud, and keep it right here on KXV8!

With a sudden decisive click, Kimberly cut off the radio, plunging us back into the realm of reality. She turned to me, her gaze penetrating as if searching for the secrets buried behind my façade. What’s going on? she asked, her voice slicing through the silence like a blade. You seem a little... wound up.

Me? Nah, I deflected, though the lie clung to me like a second skin that was a size too small. Just trying to remember the way... it’s been a while since I’ve been on these roads. But Kimberly’s gaze was too perceptive to be fooled.

Oh, really? she said, her tone light but her eyes cutting through with a knowing glint. Didn’t bother with MapQuest? Look, I can see when you’re spinning out, she added, tapping the dashboard with a smirk. Ever try and chillax? It might suit you.

I managed a dry laugh. "Yeah. I’ll add that to my to-do list right after ‘stop worrying about everything.’"

Anxiety twisted in my chest like a live wire. Mom wasn’t awake when I came in last night, and, being the early riser that she was, wasn’t there this morning either. The thought of reuniting with her, after so many months, loomed like a shadowy specter.

Kimberly seemed to sense the undercurrent of my thoughts. You’re going to be fine, Jason, she said, her voice soft but with an underlying firmness. You’ve got this.

It’s just—, I hesitated, sometimes it feels like Burbank has this invisible force field. The closer we get, the heavier it presses down on me.

Kimberly raised an eyebrow, her expression a blend of amusement and challenge. "Melodramatic much? And trust me, your mom’s going to adore me. I’m irresistible."

I chuckled, though it didn’t entirely lift my unease. "Yeah, well, you didn’t grow up with her. She has this way of making you feel like you’re five again, and not in the fun way."

Guess I’ll have to work my charm then, Kimberly quipped. Lucky for me, I’m a pro at it.

I smiled. Yeah, you’ve got that part down. Just... steer clear of the nightmares, okay?

Her expression turned serious. Fine. But you should talk to someone about them. They’re clearly gnawing at you.

I sighed, the weight of my admission heavy. I know, I know. It’s just... complicated. There’s so much history here. Sometimes it feels like I’m suffocating when I’m back.

Kimberly’s hand rested on mine, grounding and reassuring. Focus on now, not on the ghosts. You’ve got enough on your plate without dragging around the past.

I nodded. Yeah. The present. I can handle that. Besides, I’ve got you to keep me steady.

Damn right, Kimberly teased. Now, quit stressing or you’ll end up looking like a prune.

Okay, okay, I grinned. Let’s get this over with.

Her laughter, light and infectious, cut through the tension like tinker bells in a warm breeze. I watched her, marveling at how she could find joy even in the shadows of her past. Her chestnut hair shimmered in the sunlight that pushed its way around the landscape, and her hazel eyes sparkled with an indomitable spirit.

Thanks, Kim, I said, my gratitude sincere. I don’t know what I’d do without you.

She flashed a mischievous smile. Oh, you’d probably just drive in circles, let’s be real.

Her joke eased the tension, and we continued in silence, the anticipation building with each mile.

As Pat’s Diner came into view, the knot in my chest tightened once more. Kimberly’s hand found mine, her touch a silent promise. We’ll get through this, Jason, she said softly. Together.

Her words, a soothing balm, eased the frayed edges of my nerves. Kimberly had faced it all—drugs, arrests, the dark side of life—and emerged stronger. She wasn’t a damsel; she was my steadfast anchor.

I took a deep breath and nodded. Together.

Pat’s Diner emerged from the smog like a faded memory, its neon sign stuttering weakly against the haze. I’d crossed its threshold so many times, each visit warping reality a little more, like stepping into a different realm. But today, with Kimberly by my side, the diner seemed to pulse with a new, ominous energy.

As we parked, I glanced at her, her face a tapestry of intrigue and apprehension. She was my first serious college girlfriend, and introducing her to my mom felt like walking a tightrope strung between skyscrapers. One misstep, and the whole precarious charade might come crashing down.

I shut off the engine, the sudden silence hitting like a wall. The air was thick with the gravity of the moment, a palpable pressure that seemed to press against my chest. We exited the car, the slam of the door reverberating through the oppressive heat, a sharp, metallic echo that seemed to distort reality. I locked the car with a decisive click, but the sound seemed out of place, almost like it was mocking our attempt at normalcy.

You sure this is the right place? Kimberly’s voice cut through the quiet, dripping with skepticism. She stood next to me, her hands on her hips, her eyes scanning the indistinct surroundings with an almost challenging glare. Because all I see is a mirage and some generic buildings.

Welcome to LA, sweetheart, I said, forcing a grin that felt like it might crack under the pressure. I slipped on my sunglasses, trying to shield myself from the blinding sun, though it barely touched the growing sense of dread. Trust me, we’re headed in the right direction, I said, my voice betraying the unease gnawing at my core. Just a few more blocks, and you’ll see it.

Returning to North Hollywood for my impending birthday was like being swallowed by the gaping maw of some monstrous entity. The city, once a playground, now loomed as a snare ready to snap shut, its familiar edges twisted into something far more sinister. The diner, which should have been a sanctuary, felt like a predatory trap—an unwelcome pit stop between grueling midterms and the oppressive discomfort of my hometown. I'd tried to delay this return until Spring Break, but my mother, relentless as ever, had denied me that escape.

The morning sun clawed its way through the haze, a cruel spotlight on a stage set for discomfort. The buildings, once stalwart and enduring, stood as weathered sentinels, their facades scarred by the graffiti of forgotten lives. Each step we took felt like a descent into the city's rotting core, the weight of its despair pressing down on us like a suffocating