The Devil's in the Details

Sensitive topics ahead: reference to eating disorders, consensual body modifications, gun violence and gore towards the end. Reader discretion is advised.

I have the life that I've always wanted.

Looking at myself in the mirror, as I applied my eyeliner, I repeated that phrase in my mind. I had already applied the foundation, concealer and blush that my sponsor sent me, and I had to admit it looked absolutely fantastic. It easily took ten years off my face. As I finished applying the eyeliner, I saw my eye reshaping itself to find the most flattering look. As of that day, it was trendy to look slightly, ambiguously Asian, so that was the look the eyeliner gave me.

I never understood how it worked, but I also never asked. It wasn't really relevant, after all, as long as it did its job.

Next, I applied the newest, thick-lash mascara and the look was set. I stepped back and admired my reflection in the mirror. I twirled. The beautiful, delicate silk rippled over my skin and accentuated the best parts of my body: my breasts, my butt, my cinched waist. Really, I couldn't look any more like I walked straight out of a Vogue editorial, and I loved it.

With one last kiss to my reflection, I walked out of the bathroom, grabbed my clutch and went to meet my ride.

The chauffer, as always, wore a suit, sunglasses and white gloves. He opened the door of the limousine for me, and I graciously entered it after batting my eyelashes at him. As always, he remained stoic. When he closed the door, I huffed. He was always playing hard to get, but one day, I'd get him.

Arriving at the event took about thirty minutes, which I spent sipping expensive champagne and scrolling through my socials. I had gained nearly two thousand followers in the last hour after getting ready for the event on livestream. That's how my sponsor preferred it, as it allowed the people to see the transformation in real time and it always left people begging for more. Women fell over themselves to get these products; to become me. Men destroyed their lives, and their marriages, for the fantasy of me.

It was exhilarating.

The event was a movie premiere of some sort. I wasn't interested. I was only interested in the red carpet. Celebrities posed for pictures in front of the reporters and paparazzi, showing off their own gowns, their own makeup, their own bodies for the masses to consume. Some of them arrived with their spouses, others with their lovers. Some arrived with both.

I always arrived alone, but my sponsor always joined me as I stepped into the red carpet. This event was no exception.

"You look lovely, as always," my tall, sculpted Adonis said as he brought my hand to his lips.

"And you look dashing," I replied. He smirked, allowing his golden canine to glint in the flashes of the camera.

"You don't look a day over twenty five," he complimented me as he wrapped my fingers around the crook of his elbow.

"I better not," I replied, "or this arrangement wouldn't work."

Somebody screamed our names from the crowd and we turned to smile and pose for the camera. A short, thin and frail looking reporter approached us with a slightly trembling frame. She looked way too old to be there, and way too old to still have to work for a living. Her face looked familiar to me, though. I tried not to let the feeling nag me; it was irrelevant whether I knew this reporter or not. Throughout my career, I had spoken to my fair share and I couldn't be expected to remember everyone.

"Hi, I hope you're both having a wonderful evening," the reporter greeted us with a frail, trembling smile.

"We are, thank you," I replied, flashing my million dollar smile. The one that showed off my perfectly aligned, straight, bright white teeth.

"Could you tell us what you think of the upcoming film you're about to watch?" the reporter asked, which was... odd. It wasn't the kind of questions I got asked, and it made me go blank for a moment.

My sponsor's hand tightened in my arm, and while he took over for me, I understood his warning.

"We are very excited to see Derek Damon discover the Lost City of Atlantis. It looks like it's going to be packed full of adventure and action."

"Yeah," I added, "the myth of Atlantis has always been fascinating to me. I'm interested to see this new, modern take on the ancient legend."

"Oh, really?" the reporter asked, gaining a glint in her eyes that wasn't there before. I felt dread pooling in my stomach. She continued, "so, you have heard of the ancient people punished for their hubris and arrogance. Tell me, do you think we can learn anything from these ancient peoples or are we doomed to their same fate?"

This reporter wasn't just odd; she was an anomaly. I immediately felt as though I was under attack.

"We can always learn from everybody," I said, "it doesn't matter who they are."

"So you agree that the ancient Atlanteans were rightfully punished for their behavior, then," she continued. My sponsor's hand tightened painfully on my arm. I scrambled to find an answer; what were they Atlanteans punished for, again? For their sins? Because they wanted to make a tower to the heavens? Because they murdered?

"I think that Hollywood has incredibly creative tools at their disposal to make us reflect on our actions as individuals and about humanity as a whole," I deflected, "it isn't my place to judge the moral standing of a society that lived millennia ago, nor of the society we live in now."

The reporter smirked.

"Of course you'd say that, Bella," she said, "you never did have an opinion on anything."

"What publication are you working for, again?" my sponsor intervened.

The reporter's smirk widened as she replied, "I'm writing for the Lakeview High School newspaper, as part of their journalism club."

Oh.

Oh no...

My thousand dollar smile froze on my face.

"What? You didn't expect to see an old friend running through these circles, Bella?" the reported continued, now with a notoriously goading attitude added on top, "didn't expect to meet your best friend?"

"I'm not... uh... listen, you must be mistaking me for someone else," I stammered slightly, "I don't know who you are or the publication you work for."

"Let me jolt your memory, then," the reporter said and pulled out a picture from her pocket. She came prepared. This was an ambush.

The picture showed the class of '18 in long rows with their gowns and caps. They all looked young. They all looked happy. And there, in the front row, I saw my younger face next to Vera, my best friend, who looked my age. Which made sense. We were both born in the year two thousand. It wasn't natural to look twenty-five nearly sixty years after graduating high school.

"What do you want?!" I asked, unable to hide the panic in my voice. Around us, I noticed people moving slower outside of our immediate circle; no doubt under the influence of my sponsor.

"I want the truth," Vera demanded, "I want them to know you're a liar and a fraud. That none of your beauty is real. You should look like me."

I recoiled. I looked at Vera's wrinkled skin, at the moles and spots that marked her hands and her face; at her sagging cheeks and forehead. For a moment, I saw my face interposed on hers, and I shuddered, huddling closer to my sponsor, who brought up his other hand to pet my hair.

"What can I offer you to keep you quiet?" my sponsor then asked Vera. Vera scoffed.

"You keep quiet, Devil. You have no power over me," she replied.

"I know, but everyone can be bought. So, name your price: I can make you look as young as Bella, I can make sure you won't have to worry about money until you die or I can make sure you don't die. Whatever you wish, I can grant, as long as you stay quiet," my sponsor offered.

I saw the glint of ambition in Vera's eyes as she was tempted, but the stubborn old hag still stuck out her chin and hardened her posture.

"I want you to release her from her bonds," Vera challenged, "she deserves to be free of you. She deserves to be a real person."

My sponsor chuckled.

"Hold on," he said, "you think I'm keeping her like this?"

"You must be!" Vera exclaimed, "No one in their right mind would agree to this life, especially no one as smart as Bella!"

My sponsor's chuckles turned into a full belly laugh that had some of the others, albeit slower than usual, looking our way.

"Oh! This is rich! I haven't had this much fun in eons!" my sponsor exclaimed and he removed his glasses to wipe away imaginary tears. The eternal flames of Hell in those orbs made me shiver with desire, as they always did. Vera, however, flinched violently away.

"Bella, love, I think this is your misunderstanding to clear up," my sponsor told me with a smirk. He was definitely having way too much fun with this.

I looked at Vera, and at what she had become. I was overcome with a sense of relief that, as long as my sponsor remained by my side, that wouldn't be my fate. I straightened my back. I had nothing to be afraid of, for I have the life that I've always wanted.

"He didn't trap me, or cheat me, or tricked me into anything," I told Vera.

"He must have! You were young! You were gullible!"

"I was smart and I knew what I wanted," I retorted.

"So much so," my sponsor interjected, "that she bound me to her."

My sponsor then lifted his sleeve to show the small ritual tattoo I had carved there with a ritual knife I paid a small fortune for and a bit of Holy Water for intimidation purposes.

"For all intents and purposes, she's my wife," he finished with a smile in my direction. I smiled back.

Vera reeled back in shock. Her eyes widened and her mouth parted in a soundless gasp. Her eyes flitted from me to my sponsor and back again until they settled on me.

"How could you?" she asked, and to her credit, she sounded genuinely heart broken.

"As I said, I knew what I wanted," I replied.

"At what cost?!"

"At any cost," I replied, "I get to be young and beautiful in this life, and the queen of Hell in the next. I don't see how it gets any better than this."

"How many people did you trample to get here? How many are you poisoning with your influence every day? I came here to save your soul, but I see I was mistaken: you are just as bad as he is! Maybe you're even worse!"

"It depends on how you see it, doesn't it?" I retorted with a smirk, "people get to feel beautiful with what I offer, I feel admired, my sponsor gets to have fun once in a while. It's a win-win situation."

"It's only a win-win situation if you deliberately ignore what's going on outside of your personal bubble," Vera continued. I rolled my eyes. I was getting tired of this, and this time it was I who squeezed my sponsor's arm. He got the message.

"I think I know who you are," he said to Vera, and once again, Vera recoiled from his attention. What a fool she was.

"You have no power over me," she said.

"No, not over you, but I do over someone else, don't I? Over someone you love?" he asked.

"No!"

My sponsor smiled a shark-like smile.

"Yes! I remember now! Your granddaughter! If I'm not mistaken, she's a dedicated fan of our brand, isn't she? How would she feel about getting a care package for free?"

"You stay away from her, you Devil!" Vera exclaimed, and for the first time in this entire interaction she didn't look afraid of him, but ready to throttle him. He looked, for his part, immensely amused.

"That's why you're here, aren't you? You aren't really trying to save me, but her, right?" I asked, "Even before I summoned him, we hadn't talked for a few years, already."

"My granddaughter is starving herself to death, on purpose, because of you! I thought you had also been tricked into this terrible lifestyle, but now I see you are the perpetrator. He's just the means to your ends!"

"Ouch," my sponsor said, placing a hand on his chest in faux pain.

"Not all of us want to be goody two shoes," I replied, quite a bit offended, "you are free to choose the life you want, just as I do and your granddaughter, too."

"How can it be called a choice if it's been shoveled down her throat? She grew up on this. This fake lifestyle of yours is all she sees. That, in my opinion, isn't a real choice."

"Well, too bad. That's how the world works. Deal with it."

"The world didn't use to work like this! We didn't grow up like this!"

"Times change! Oh, for goodness sake, you are the embodiment of 'the good ol' days' phrase! Get on with the times!"

"Because they were actually good! People talked to one another, helped each other out! There was community. There was beauty, real beauty, to admire, unlike yours."

Oh.

Oh, she did not just say that.

I glared at her, and this time she recoiled from me. Good.

"I have not spent years of my life cultivating and nurturing this body for you to call it ugly," I spat, "you, an old hag, a wrinkled sack of aging bones, you have not right to judge my looks in any way, shape or form. I am the epitome of beauty standards!"

"How can you not see that that's the problem!?"

"How dare you?" and I was proud of how low my register went, "why are you here? What did you think you were going to accomplish?"

"I was hoping to save you, or to convince you to change your ways. Now that I see that I can't, you leave me no choice but to do this, instead!"

Old Hag Vera pulled out a gun from her purse, aimed at my head and shot me at close range. The wound was grisly, and even if I had survived, I wouldn't have wanted to because it completely ruined my face. It would have scarred and it would have been ugly. No, the bullet did as it intended and killed me on the spot.

I watched, next to my rapidly cooling body, how the entire red carpet burst into chaos and panic. People began running and trampling each other, which was fair, and screams drowned out every other noise. Even as my body cooled down, reporters and paparazzi around us didn't miss a beat for an exclusive picture of my brains on the carpet. Even in death, they couldn't get enough of me!

My sponsor tried to comfort me where he stood next to me, but honestly, I was fine. I knew I'd be fine, because he'd take care of me. And I was fine, also, because I got to see how Old Hag Vera was put in cuffs and taken away to the police station on very obvious first degree murder grounds. The trial was very quick, very open and close case.

Moreover, as I watched the proceedings in court from the shadows, I got to meet the precious little granddaughter that Old Hag Vera had killed me to save. She was a pretty little thing. Couldn't have been more than fourteen years old, but I could already see the makings of the fine, beautiful woman she'd become one day.

As the bailiff took away Old Hag Vera for a life sentence, I made myself visible to her. I made her see as I approached her precious, little granddaughter and I made her hear me strike up a conversation with the distraught teenager. I got to hear her scream of despair as she was utterly helpless to stop me from doing whatever I wanted to this young thing.

"How would you like to be a model?" I asked the young teen, whose bloodshot eyes lit up in wonder and awe and I thought to myself, yes, this is the life that I've always wanted.