i went to the doctors believing

the devil had control over me and

i was finding it hard to breathe and

finding it hard to fight the feeling

When she awoke, Chloe was frightened. Her sleep had been amazing. She had been dead to the world for however long, and once the panic subsided and she remembered where she was, she realized that she felt refreshed. She had stayed awake so long because she was afraid of nightmares, but her nap had been dreamless and heavy. Through the curtains, light was dim and gave the entire room an iridescent glow. An expensive analog clock on one of the walls showed a small hand nearly reaching a roman numeral VII, and she was experiencing a fuzzy deja vu.

Her hands grabbed up to her chest, where her blouse was buttoned to her neck. In fact, the only disturbance to her previous day's outfit was that her shoes were elsewhere, and a corner of her blouse had come untucked from the waist of her pants. This caused her to blush, as she vividly remembered the graceful way Lucifer's large hands had discarded every stitch of fabric from her body, but she did not recall getting redressed.

Lucifer was asleep next to her, his back exposed from the covers as he lay on his side. It was like nothing had happened. If she listened closely, she could hear his deep breathing ending in a quiet snore.

Chloe curled onto her side and found herself staring at Lucifer's back. The scars against his shoulder blades stared her back. His angel wings. Her hand was shaking as she entertained the deja vu and reached forward, her three fingertips pressing to the back of his neck. She was holding her breath as her fingers traveled down, just barely touching the top of the scar.

In an instant, Lucifer's eyes flipped open. He reached back and grabbed her wrist, then turned to protect his back against the mattress. His eyes were furious when they contacted hers, but softened when he saw her brief look of terror. "Don't," he said plainly, and slowly let go of her wrist.

Chloe nodded and pursed her lips, glancing at the analog clock. She must have been disorientated. She fingered the collar of her blouse as Lucifer stood, the covers dropping from him and revealing his ass, clad in a fitted black boxer short. It was too late to look away, as once he turned toward her, he caught her staring. "What?" he asked, a mischievous grin becoming him. "I do prefer to sleep in the nude, but I thought I would express some modesty so as not to disrupt your slumber."

Clearly, Chloe's brain had short-circuited or something, as she continued staring at his face and chest with an odd, empty expression. Her lips formed to make words that didn't come out, giving the appearance of a confused goldfish. "What!?" Lucifer asked again, forcing a laugh, though he was growing more uncomfortable by the second.

"How long did I sleep?" she finally asked, though that wasn't the first question on her mind by a long shot.

"All afternoon and evening. Out like a light. Had to check your breathing a few times," Lucifer was only joking, but the way she was gaping at him made his skin crawl. "I'm kidding! You were left completely undisrupted."

"And you just woke up now?"

"Well, yes. After you… you know. Why?"

Chloe sighed and shook her head, pulling out her messy bun so she could retie it into a neater ponytail. "Nothing," she came to a conclusion. "I just had a weird dream."

"About me?" Lucifer seemed overly pleased as he pulled a white t-shirt on and rummaged through his closet for pants. When he was met with silence, he looked at Chloe again, who only looked away and shrugged. Lucifer gasped and then let out a hearty laugh, covering his mouth with two fingers. "Did you have a dirty dream about me, Detective?"

Chloe's entire face was burning. "No."

"You did!"

"I did not!"

"Was I good?"


"Bit defensive, are we?"

"Stop," Chloe held a hand up in finality and looked around desperately for a distraction. She had a fleeting thought about work which turned into widened eyes, springing up from the bed and searching for her bag. "Where's my phone?" she asked, frantic. She found her bag with her shoes at the end of the bed and dove into it, waiting impatiently for the phone to turn back on once she pressed the power several times.

"You needed to sleep," was all Lucifer said as he buckled a belt around his waist; the main thing on his mind was choosing which sport jacket was most functional yet still classy for the day's activities. She was of no good to a criminal investigation with bags under her eyes.

"People are dying, Lucifer. I can't not answer my phone for like, twelve hours," she was almost in tears, beginning the scroll through all of her missed texts and calls. Once this case was over, she was so getting fired.

"I'm sure you didn't miss anything," was the only somewhat comforting response Lucifer could think of. Chloe almost threw a shoe at him.

"We missed a person of interest apprehended," she retorted, emphasizing his inclusion in this despite herself. She held her phone out to wave a photo of the suspect in his face, which just looked like a blob of colors from the way she was shaking it about. "No more days off," she said as she crammed her shoes on. The last part would become her mantra.

"It was a few hours off," Lucifer corrected, and he was going to point out that she was still wearing the same outfit as the day before, but knew he would be left behind if he didn't shut up and follow.

"Are you joking?" Lucifer held back a laugh once he had swindled his way into the interrogation room with the suspect. The kid couldn't have been more than 18 years old, terrified and on the edge of vomiting. "This is our suspect?"

Chloe followed and shut the door, cup of coffee in one hand and files in the other. Despite shoving a dry bagel in her face moments before, the coffee was still making her jittery. "Not a suspect. We just have some questions," she insisted, sympathizing a bit with the red headed boy sat opposite from her. She could see his hands shaking, though the handcuffs kept them together. "James, is it?"

"Jimmy," the boy replied, his posture significantly dipping when he glanced at Lucifer. Lucifer didn't react, his pompous air enough to intimidate the teenager.

"Jimmy," Chloe repeated with a nod. Lucifer stayed silent beside a chastising grin at the boy. During the whole drive to the station, Chloe had been busy with her phone and would not even look at him. He was rather frustrated that none of his caring activities had warranted the gratitude he was searching for, and he felt like he was in time out. He supposed he would watch his tongue and let things ride out for this session, always a challenge for him.

"Do you know why we had to bring you in this morning?" For some reason, Chloe could not avoid the gentle mom voice she had not had to use since Trixie was a toddler.

"No." Jimmy's response was in the tone of an aggressive toddler, so her tone was appropriate.

Though she sympathized, Chloe was not giving him the benefit of the doubt if the other officers had had enough suspicion to bring him in. She fingered through her file and notes for two photos and placed them in front of Jimmy. The first was a screenshot timestamped from Wednesday, before the murder of Dick Whibley. It was hotel camera footage of a boy who looked to be Jimmy, holding a black plastic garbage bag on his way out of the very stairwell where the body had been found. The second photo was from the following day: Heaven's Waters. Security footage placed a boy of the same description toting a black plastic garbage bag out a back door. Retrieval of the garbage bags had become a dead end, because the trash pick up service on both days had conveniently already carried away the potential evidence. "We have recognition of someone matching your description at two different crime scenes in the past three days."

Jimmy looked over the pictures, his face pale. Upon staring him down closer, Lucifer assessed Jimmy's tongue was twitching in his mouth to come up with the most believable lie. "I work there," he stated finally, swallowing hard.

"You work where?" Chloe prodded for specifics.

"At The Grand." He was referencing to the hotel, and pointed to the accompanying surveillance photo from that scene. "I'm a janitor. So I was taking the trash out."

"So you are confirming this photograph is you?"

It looked as if Jimmy had not realized he could have denied the screenshot was of him. The face was blurry, and the major descriptor matches had come from the height, hair style, and black garbage bag in both scenes. While Jimmy did match the height provided by the police software and sported curly red hair as well, he might have been able to buy himself more time had he denied it entirely. With Lucifer now lingering behind his chair like a shark out for blood, he finally spit out a tiny "yes."

Chloe made a note to check his employment records and then tapped on the photo taken from Heaven's Waters. "Do you also work here?" Though she was avoiding using the names of the locations, earlier officers had extracted him from Heaven's Waters' employee break room this morning once the footage had been compared against their staff listing.

"No," Jimmy denied it, wondering if it was too late to use this tactic.

"Then why were you taking the trash out there as well?"

"I wasn't."

"Are you saying the first photograph is of you, but the second is not?"

"Oh, go on with it, Detective," Lucifer blurted out, startling both Chloe and the suspect. "He was taking the trash out at his job. Case closed, as far as I'm concerned. Not our guy. Look at him, he's a miserable, depressed teenager." Jimmy wriggled in his handcuffs again, attempting to cover self-inflicted cuts that scattered both of his wrists. Chloe noticed the cuts also and her stomach churned, but her following glare at Lucifer was interrupted by a chime on her phone. A text. Another crime scene, with the victim on the way to the ICU.

"Lucifer," was all she said as she stood up and grabbed her notes, cocking her head to the door. Lucifer raised a brow before chuckling dryly.

"Another victim, I presume? And you were in here interrogating this poor kid for nothing."

With a quick word to the suspect that he would be free to go once he spoke with another officer, Chloe dragged Lucifer out of the room by the elbow while punching the coordinates of the hospital nearest to the crime scene into her phone's maps application. Though there were many unanswered questions with Jimmy, she had to reach the latest victim before it was too late.

Martha Hendricks was unsurprisingly the CFO of Thread Again, a booming thrift store chain that planned to open seven more locations in the southern California area before the year's end. The retail slot was competitive, even for this secondhand format, and Martha had spent countless hours and sleepless nights on the phone with executives as she clawed her way to the top by the skin of her manicured nails. Getting stabbed was almost a relief, as if she finally had an excuse to take a day or two to herself. She was floating by on pain medication administered by a hospital IV while the doctors decided the extensivity of her wounds. Her eyes were closed in a peaceful sway of consciousness, like the back and forth of the wooden swing her father had built for her on the biggest tree in their childhood backyard. She could almost feel him pushing on her back as her blood pulsed, unaware one of her injuries was causing this delusion.

"Martha Hendricks," a female voice interrupted her peace, so her look was cross when she opened her eyes again. The voice was rushed and panicked, belonging to a run-down looking blonde accompanied by a well-dressed male counterpart. Martha wondered if she had ever looked that terrible while at her job. A woman in a position of authority had to remain poised and perfect at all times. After three years of calls, talks, one night stands, backstabbing, and favors, Martha had learned the ways of being a successful woman in business. This girl could learn from her.

A doctor tilted Martha onto her side to dress the wounds on her back, so she had no choice but to focus her eyes to Detective Decker, who had introduced herself vaguely.

"Do you know where you are?"

Martha smiled and nodded, which sent a searing pain through her neck. She winced and tried to return her thoughts back to the lovely swing.

"Do you know what happened?"

She had been stabbed, she knew that much. Pain was returning the more she tried to answer the Detective's questions, so she decided to stop trying. The sun was beating down on her face. She could feel a slight breeze as she swung back and forth, causing a smile to return.

"Do you have any enemies?" The male voice prompted, and Martha's smile faded once more. It was no longer her father lovingly pushing her back on the swing of this fantasy. It was a girl she recognized but could not place, who withdrew a blade to bury in her back each time the swing moved fro. This happened a total of four times. The swing stopped dead at the fourth, and then the girl sliced across Martha's neck. This disturbed her enough to muster the last of her energy for an answer to the man.

"A little girl," Martha choked as things and machines around her started beeping and buzzing. "A little girl."

Next, the sound of doctors yelling accompanied blackness. Martha's fantasy ended, as did her life.

well, i want to tell you a secret

you can take your double standard love and keep it

i can't help the devil likes to make my heart a double bed

and i can't help he sometimes likes to come and rest his little head

"hermit the frog" property of marina and the diamonds