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He laughed and it was one of the most beautiful sounds I had ever heard. Lucifer was beautiful. He always was according to the stories but his laugh? It was something else. It was like listening to your favorite song on repeat and never getting tired of hearing it.
“Have you tried talking to others before?”
“Gabriel took me to see a therapist but It didn’t work out.”
The memory of what Dr. Wilson had said to me, what he wanted to do. It sent a shiver down my spine. Replaying that day in his office all over again in my head. I could feel his disgusting hands on my shoulders, pushing down the straps of my shirt.
“Catalina, are you alright?” Lucifer’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts. His hand resting on my shoulder.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” I brushed off his hand,
“Where did you go just now?” His dark eyes filled with curiosity and concern. Maybe?
“Nowhere. I’m fine.” I started to stand but Lucifer grabbed my hand,
“I’ve been alive long enough to know that when a woman says she’s fine, she’s not fine.”
“It was nothing. I just thought of something that disturbed me.”
Disturbed. That doesn’t even begin to describe what that memory made me feel.
“What disturbed you?”
I remained silent. How could I even begin to explain what had happened in that office that day?
“Was it the conversation we had?” I shook my head. Talking about my feelings might’ve been difficult but once someone got me talking, I couldn’t stop.
“Was It a memory then?”
Again I remained silent.
Lucifer stiffened,
“What happened?”
I wanted to tell him. I wanted to tell him everything about that day. About how disgusting the therapist made me feel, how some days I could still feel his old wrinkled hands on me. For some reason I wanted him to know.
“Nothing I-”
“Do not insult me by lying. I saw the look on your face. Something happened.”
Lucifer stood, taking my chin in his hand and gently lifting my face to face him.
“Tell me.”
So I did. I told him. Everything. Every little detail. From what Dr. Wilson had said, to what he did and how I felt. I couldn’t help the small tears that filled my eyes and made a trail down my face. I hated crying. My mother always said tears showed weakness. Tears during a punishment was practically a death sentence. Tears made everything worse. Lucifer was quiet for a moment. His face was hard and his eyes seemed to get darker.
“Name.” He whispered,
“What?”
“What is his name and where is his office?” Lucifer’s tone told me all I needed to know about how he felt and a part of me felt good. He was angry.
“Lucifer you don’t need to do-” I started to say,
“Don’t worry about what I’m going to do and just give me his damn name and the address of his office.”
He wasn’t messing around. His rage was seething out of him. Why? Why was he so angry? Gabriel hadn’t been this angry when I told him about Dr. Wilson. Sure Gabriel hadn’t been happy but he wasn’t like this.
