The week before my 18th birthday, I was... There was a car accident. I should not have survived. In another lifetime, maybe I wouldn't have. It's been fifteen, almost sixteen years since that day, yet I still look exactly the same.
Fifteen years, ten months. One day.
I think about it sometimes, in between hazes of marathon sex and self-pity. I thought I saw something that day, a flash of something red, then something white, both brilliant and beautiful. Usually I brush it off as delirium, but lately, I've wondered if it couldn't have been something else.
--
Six years, one week later, my first love left me blindsided and alone. I'd done things for my Duckie that I had never done, and thought I would never do, for anyone else. There was no shame in it. I adored Trent, loved him more than my own life. Besides, I knew how to get away with everything I'd done, so why should I feel anything other than proud that I could help him?
Except... Helping him meant enabling him to be with this girl who barely registered his existence. And I hated him for leaving, and I hated myself for begging him on my knees not to go. I have talented lips and a silver tongue, but it didn't matter. I couldn't persuade him to stay.
That night, I got blasted out of my mind. I don't remember it, actually. All I know is, he left, I was devastated, and the next thing I knew, I was waking up in a stranger's bed. A charming stranger with a posh accent who claimed he hadn't touched me. Sexually, anyway. My clothes were in the wash.
He seemed to know everything about me. I guess I'm a talker when I'm high. Ironic, since I couldn't talk that much as a kid. Either way, he knew how important it was for me to remain a virgin until I could somehow convince Duckie to love me. The fact that I'm (allegedly) a nymphomaniac now? Making up for lost time, I guess. There's a lot of that going around.
This stranger — Lucifer, he called himself. Lucifer Morningstar. He was gorgeous, of course. Charming, surprisingly kind and gentle, with just enough sadness in those beautiful dark eyes to tell me he was possibly the first person I'd ever met who understood the deep, abiding loneliness that had plagued me all my life. Being with Duckie had mitigated the worst of it, but it had been gnawing its way back inside me, invading me, filling me with despair these past few years. Well, Lucifer listened to me. He let me cry on his shoulder, quite literally. He held me close, looked after me, made me feel like I had a friend once again. Maybe that's why something about him felt so familiar to me, or maybe I was just so constantly high that any kind of closeness in my sober moments would have stood out to me.
He said I was pure of heart. I asked him what he meant and he told me I had an exceptionally singular focus that seemed rare in most humans he met. I didn't question his use of the word "humans" at the time. I was too preoccupied wondering what he meant by "singular focus" and how that could possibly tie into purity. It sounded like an arc in Sailor Moon or something silly like that. I've never been pure. I was born a freak. If you don't believe me, I'm sure my mom would tell you. I mean, if she hadn't died back in Iowa while I was living the SoCal dream. But more on that later, if I care enough to circle back.
Anyway, Lucifer was good to me. I remember being grateful at the time, though it's entirely possible that I took him for granted. He told me many flattering things that I never believed, no matter how many times he reminded me he doesn't lie. Well, maybe he wasn't lying, but that doesn't mean he was telling the truth, either. I couldn't be any of the wonderful things he said I was, no matter how much I longed to be. I thought it was part of his whole "fulfilling desires" thing, that he just told me what I wanted to hear, using precise enough words that he didn't consider it lying. Still, at least I wasn't quite as lonely when he was around.
More importantly, Lucifer kept me safe throughout law school. I got in a lot of trouble — well, I got in trouble a lot of times. But I never got kicked out and, obviously, I never died of an overdose. Hell, I don't think I even got a serious hangover. Looking back, I think I relied on him more than I should have. Maybe I still do.
--
After I graduated law school (by the skin of my teeth, mind you), I tried looking Lucifer up, but he wasn't in Boston anymore. It was a shame; I'd wanted to see if he maybe wanted to rent a room together. I couldn't afford it on my own, even with the money I earned from modeling. (What? You thought I was good for something other than my looks?) If Trent hadn't flown me out to California when he did, I probably would have ended up living in a box.
So I lived with Trent for a while, and things were going well. He'd hired me as his tech startup's lawyer and gave me the money to open my own practice. We were as inseparable as we'd been before college, until one day, he got this random friend request on Facebook from that girl he'd dropped out of grad school to chase after.
Yeah, things didn't go so well for me after that. I could afford to move out by now, so I did. I probably shouldn't have bought the house right next door, but I get by on good looks and memorized books, not common sense, okay? That horrible, soul-crushing loneliness came back and — since I'd quit everything else cold turkey to prevent my sweet, oblivious-but-not-stupid Duckie from finding out what exactly I'd been on — the bottle became my new best friend. I was back to some other old habits, things I'd done for Duckie, things I'd done for love, for the love of someone who loved someone else. He was so grateful, it hurt. I never let myself wonder if he liked me or if he just liked what I could do for him. It wasn't worth questioning, as long as he never left my side again.
It hurts. Why does it still hurt? How can it, when I'm not in love with him anymore?
Anyway — ignoring that my heart feels like a goddamn pincushion for no reason — Duck came to me whenever things went wrong with his... girlfriend. And I let him, because pushing him away would have meant it was one less thing he could depend on me for, and if he didn't depend on me, he... Ow. Nope. Okay, moving on!
So obviously, the last thing I expected was for her to actually change her mind and start dating him. I guess I should have been happy for him. I mean, I loved him, right? I should have been happy that he was happy. I'm a terrible friend. What the fuck was wrong with me? Why couldn't I get past how much I hated this bitch? (I still kind of hate her, but only because it turns me on.)
So, whatever. He liked girls, right?
Yeah, no, you're half-right. It turned out he actually was bisexual, just... not for me.
FUCK! Who is stabbing my voodoo doll? Should I see a doctor? I can't see a doctor, that's silly. Why did I think that?
Anyway, Rebecca pitched a fit about him wanting to date Nathaniel, and I was over here like, lady, come on! At least he likes you, right? So I decided to take matters into my own hands. I even took a leaf out of Trent's book and used a similar tactic on him that he'd used to win Rebecca's heart. Although apparently I went a little overboard.
I think that was probably the best month of my life. Trent was so sweet, so tender, so... He was perfect. I needed to believe we were finally together, after 23 years of me loving him and yearning for him! I was confused when, after we had made love for the first time — my first time — he....
Ow....
I should have had someone lock the door from the outside. Solder it shut, maybe. I would have preferred us dying to him ever leaving me. Again.
Of course, again. Why wouldn't it be again? No one will ever just stay. Not with me. I'm a freak. Remember?
I didn't have any drugs on me. I'd quit, after all. Cold turkey. And I hadn't kept any alcohol in Trent's storage unit, because why would I? So when I got home and found my green-apple poison (so to speak), I drank it like water and cried myself a river.
I don't know why I chose that day to try looking up Lucifer again. Maybe it was because he was the only person who'd consistently been around when Trent wasn't. Maybe it was because I knew he had good drugs and I was going to kill myself if I didn't get a fix to take the edge off this pain — WHICH I CAN STILL FEEL EVEN THOUGH IT'S COMPLETELY IRRELEVANT NOW!
Heh. Ironically, that's the only pain I really feel anymore.
I don't really know who to thank, considering, you know. But I found Lucifer on the first try this go-round. It wasn't exactly difficult; the man is affluent and likes to make a statement. He didn't mention whether he remembered me, but he did take me to bed that night after I gifted him the cologne I'd borrowed from Trent.
We all have fantasies, okay? For some of us, it's the only way we stay alive.
Gosh... I'd thought Trent was a perfect lover, but Lucifer was... Is there, like, a superlative past mere perfection? If someone had told me he was a literal angel at that point, I would have believed them immediately.
Once again, Luci was there for me through a lot of my dumbass decisions. He was willing to bail me out of jail, and when I needed to take a break from practicing law, he found Trent a new lawyer.
There's something else Lucifer did for me that basically changed my life.
To convey the proper gravitas, I'm going to need to back up a little. You see, Luci has a thing for blondes. Specifically, tall, leggy, beautiful blonde women. He'd sleep with anyone attractive, but he tended to pursue the flaxen-haired ladies. And Trent, well, apparently short, curvy brunette is his type. Not that I blame him, I mean, my first celebrity crush was Sandra Bullock. His were Ryan Philippe and Leonardo DiCaprio.
Do you see why I thought I had a shot? Actually, no, I take that back. I hate being told I look like either of those two, I mean, no offense, they were 90's heartthrobs for a damn good reason. It's just... I don't know, if I really looked like either of them, Trent would have loved me.
Wouldn't he?
Sorry, let's get back on track. Well no, let's rewind the track a little. Trent had this bitchy aunt whom I thought had always hated me, but it turned out she liked me better than the description of Trent's college crush. The enemy of your enemy, and all that. She took me aside and, as discreetly as possible, suggested I consider making some major edits to certain areas on my body. It was a shocking conversation, especially with a middle-aged Midwestern socialite. It wasn't exactly hard to convince me I'd be better, or at least, more loved (and what's the difference, really?) if I was a girl. Well a woman.
Okay, so, back on track. Luci understood what I wanted: to be seen by Trent in a new way. And so, Luci suggested a trial run as a drag queen. Baby steps, I guess. He took care of everything. He even helped me craft my drag persona. He's the one who showed me I was actually quite the looker. We used minimal makeup, extensions in my hair, and tops cute enough that I didn't want to detract from them with unnecessary padding. I would have been beautiful as a woman. Or so I thought at the time.
My chest hurts again. Maybe I'd better lie down.
Luci trained my voice, my movements, my everything. (And I do mean everything. I would never have thought edging in chastity would feel so good.) He made me what I am today: a physically flawless, leggy creature with flowing blonde curls and a flock of men dying to know me in the most shallow possible way.
My hair was already blonde and curly. Now I have incentive to grow it out.
Did it work out with Trent? Ehh, for a little while. Surprisingly enough, I was the one to break up with him. I met someone captivating, someone who picked me out from a crowd, someone who really seemed to need me—
Ow... Help me, Luci....
I shouldn't ask him that. Luci already helps me. He's helped me for so long now. I'm as bad as Trent or Rebecca or both put together. Worse.
Um... Where was I...?
Right. This is about Lucifer. He really is the kindest man in the world. When it became glaringly obvious that Trent wasn't going to marry me, and neither was Nathaniel or really anybody—
ow.... Luci... Luci helped me. He stepped in and wrote his name into the rest of my life. We got married later that very day, then held a party for our friends to celebrate within the same week. Four days later, as Trent's sister wouldn't let me forget. I married Luci in drag, but the ID still says Sebastian Morningstar.
I don't care anymore. It doesn't matter who I am or how the world sees me.
But I should still finish my story. Serena wasn't who I was back then. It was a mask I could take on and off. I could be hotshot defense lawyer Sebastian by day, and cuddly sex worker Serena by night. My marriage to Luci is an open one, to avoid complications. He somehow got the impression that I needed multiple men to satisfy me, and he convinced me to profit off it. Hard to argue with his reasoning.
Being Serena was liberating. She was beautiful and desired, submissive and masochistic, demanding money and attention like all women do, but in the most straightforward way. I couldn't give up that feeling, so I became more reluctant to take off the mask.
Then I met someone amazing. Xander. My Xandy. I love him so much—it... hurts....
Xander loves me. Xander needs me. He comes back for me all the time. He's as protective of me as any woman he's loved. It's all true. We're so happy together!
You see, Xander was different from anyone I'd ever met. He'd picked me out from a crowd and, later that night, really made me believe how special I was to him. I wasn't just another pretty girl who happened to be my husband's exact type. I was unique. I had something he craved on a primal level. He liked to act like he was dangerous, but after getting to know him, I doubt he'd have the heart to hurt a fly. He's so sweet. So of course, when I sensed that Xander was jealous of all the other men I was seeing, I had no problem dropping them.
All except Luci, of course. I could never leave him. He made sure I'll always be safe and healthy. No, literally. He embedded one of his feathers into my back. I can't die unless I fully lose the will to live. Nothing can scar me. I heal right away, from everything.
Even a scalpel, theoretically.
Luci has the most amazing connections. He can procure anyone, anywhere, for anything. He even got a guy to craft his identity practically the second he touched down. He could even create a second identity for me if I asked him to, you know, for Serena... if anyone were to... I don't know... want her? Like, forever?
I still don't understand what Luci sees in Sebastian. Something about my soul being pure and luminous, fully untainted by guilt. Well.... I mean, I guess it was back in college when we met. There was no reason to be guilty. I did everything out of love. I was certain of it. Now, I... I think I still act out of love, but if I'm so loving, why do people keep scolding me and acting like I hurt others? Maybe they're right. I never hurt anyone back then. I never even inconvenienced them, until the night Trent went away.
We may be broken up, but I'll never forget how sublime he tasted.
I try not to pry too deep into how Luci sees me. I don't like I when I lose control of my emotions and question how he feels to his face. He doesn't lie, so he obviously believes what he's saying, but I just cannot comprehend how he can be so delusional. Or maybe he still sees me as pure because he created Serena, his ideal beauty, and coached me into her personality? At least, to start. He can't see how my real personality has seeped in and tainted his perfect creation.
Did I mention yet that the only thing that can permanently scar an angel is a demon blade? That's a lot of trust Lucifer gives his denizens. Not that Maze isn't trustworthy. She was a fantastic bodyguard, back when I needed one. In fact, I think I could trust her to make medical tools out of demon blades and give me the modifications I need to be truly loved and completely fulfilled!
But... then what? What if true love doesn't last forever? If Xander leaves me, all I have to rely on is Luci, and Luci fell in love with Sebastian.
Our friend Faustus teases me sometimes that all this unnecessary worrying is going to turn my hair gray. I don't think that's likely to happen, I mean, I'll be 34 in September and I haven't aged since I was in my 20's because I know that's when Luci started taking care of me. Of course, Trent thinks I still look 17, but he's known me forever; of course he thinks I look younger. Besides, if I was going to get grey hair, I would have gotten it from the stress of that car accident I miraculously survived the week before my final year of high school.
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