The Devil You Know
Samantha always knew she was different.
It was something she got told all the time.
At home, by her parents.
In school, by teachers and fellow classmates.
It felt like an insult - and often that was the intention.
‘Samantha should do more to fit in’: that had always been the mantra of her school reports.
It wasn’t that she ever thought she was special or superior.
Far from it in fact.
If anything, she usually felt woefully inadequate when compared to, well, anybody else she knew.
In her class alone there were girls who were sportier, prettier, smarter, funnier. Some were more exotic, with their own girlfriends, or directional haircuts, or spicy hot-takes or stories of growing up in other states, other countries.
Meanwhile, Samantha hadn’t even gone past the city limits.
All these other girls had their part to play in the undulating dynamics and rich tapestries of their friendship groups. But Samantha… well, she didn’t fit into any of those pigeonholes and so she had continued to feel more adrift and alone with each passing term of high school.
This time though, stood in the school library, the words felt unfamiliar.
Good, even.
“There’s no one else like you, Samantha.”
The new librarian was slight and soft spoken. Her features were forthright, with pale blue eyes fixed intently on Samantha.
But even in the hushed tones of their surroundings, her voice was convincing, bordering on commanding.
“You just have to believe in yourself.”
The words flattered Samantha, but she did, perhaps for the first time in her life, accept them.
She felt her cheeks flush - a little with embarrassment, a little with pride, a little with power.
The librarian noticed this and reached out a hand and touched Samantha gently on the elbow.
“It’s true,” she reassured, before looking around the emptying library to make sure no one else was nearby, “Look, I really need to talk to you about something. Something important. Hang around for a few minutes, the place will close soon, let me just make sure it’s quiet and then I can tell you… tell you everything.”
And with that, she scuttled away around the corner of the aisle, leaving Samantha stood in the same position, staring at the books in front of her. A moment passed and Samantha shook herself out of her stupor and looked up and down the stretches of books either side of her.
All was still and quiet, apart from the gentle flutter of the banners for Friday’s Winter Wonderland Formal.
“Ugh,” Samantha thought to herself as she looked up at them in disgust, “Another event, another opportunity to not fit in.”
She put her hand on the shelf in front of her and absent-mindedly ran it along the tops of the books it held.
A sharp pang bit into her finger and she instinctively put her hand to her mouth.
A taste of iron.
She looked at the small cut on the tip of her index finger, and then down at the cause.
A tall, thin book stuck out and above the volumes either side, a tiny trail of crimson streaked across the top.
With her other hand, Samantha pulled the book free from its neighbours and turned it over to see the front cover.
GELLAR’S GUIDE ON THE STRUGGLE AGAINST DEMONS AND ASSOCIATED CREATURES
(AND THE SLAYING THEREOF)
The title looked handwritten and swirled across the book’s cover. Samantha’s finger ran along the edge of the pages and she started to flick open the slim tome.
“We’re alone now,” the librarian’s words and sudden reappearance startled Samantha and she dropped the book onto the floor by her feet.
“Sorry,” she stuttered as she bent down to pick up the book.
“Oh no, my apologies,” replied the librarian, “completely my fault I assure you. Oh, you found the book already - see, I knew you were the right one…”
Her words hung in the stale library air for a moment.
“Wha-what do you mean?” Stammered Samantha, “What is this all about?”
The librarian, smiled gently and put her hands on top of Samantha’s.
“This…” she started, “This is all about YOU, of course.”
Samantha just stared back at her, trying to find even a sliver of a clue from the inscrutably kind face in front of her.
“OK, OK, let me start at the beginning. There’s good and there’s bad, right? In the world? And well, I’m not going to lie to you here Samantha, the good has taken a real hammering over the last few years. The bad it’s… it’s everywhere. The good is outnumbered and that is why we need the good - we need YOU - to fight back. And that book, the one in your hands, that’s the start. You just have to read it and then you’ll know what to do next… you’ll just know.”
The librarian smiled again and lifted her hands from Samantha’s.
“Take the book and read it, tonight.”
Samantha started to shake her head slowly, trying to formulate any kind of excuse.
“Listen, you can do this - you have to do this. This is why you’re different, this is why you’re special. Read it and then bring it back tomorrow - you’ve got this, Samantha.”
The librarian smiled again. It made Samantha’s heart sing a little, and she smiled awkwardly back.
“OK. OK, I will, give it a read,” and she slid it into her backpack.
The librarian sighed with relief, “I knew you would understand. Just keep it secret for now. Don’t tell anyone about any of it, bring the book back tomorrow - you’ll know what to do.”
That night, after she had tackled her homework and her chores were done, Samantha sat on her bed and stared at the book in front of her.
For some reason, she felt like this was a big occasion. A turning point.
She leant forward, picked up the book, opened its front cover, and started reading the scrawled text within.
The words electrified Samantha. Her skin prickled and fizzed with every new paragraph. Everything was explained. Her life, how she felt, everything - it all suddenly made sense.
She felt different because she was different.
She was treated differently because those around her saw her differently.
But it wasn’t because she was awkward or clumsy or… well, for any of the things Samantha hated about herself.
It was because she was good.
And those people who were around her every day, the overwhelming majority of people in her life, well, they were not.
Actually, they were not just not good. They were, in fact, emphatically evil.
Demons, as the book described them.
Beings of evil, given life purely to choke the good and the pure out of the world, purging it forever.
But pockets of resistance persisted. They fought back. They tried to turn the tide. They did what they could to push back and preserve a glimmer of something special, something pure, in the world.
Hope.
And as the pages slipped by, and the night gave way to the first shards of morning, Samantha read on to the conclusion and her own realisation started to dawn.
________________________________________________________________________
The sound of the sirens filled the air until Samantha’s ears rang and the noise warped and folded in on itself.
Underneath the wail of the sirens, there was shouting.
Shouting and screaming.
She blinked slowly and looked around at the school gymnasium where she was sat, cross-legged, on the floor.
At first it was difficult for her to take in the enormity of what had happened - what was still happening - but, by increments, it started to filter through to Samantha’s consciousness.
“It’s funny where your mind goes in these big moments,” she thought to herself, as she looked up at the tinsel and streamers flittering in the breeze of the gym hall’s air-conditioning, the torn banner hanging limply from the ceiling and then the single balloon left bouncing forlornly across the dancefloor.
And the red.
There was so much red.
And suddenly there were the men at the door, pounding their fists against the makeshift barricade, the furious heat of their voices steaming up the glass.
There was a crack, the tinkle of glass on the wooden gym floor. The sirens and the voices got louder and Samantha wasn’t the only one at the Winter Wonderland Formal any more.
________________________________________________________________________
Samantha always knew she was different.
It was something she got told all the time.
In court, by the prosecution - and her own defence team.
In her secure unit, by the wardens and her fellow inmates.
It felt like an insult - and often that was the intention.
‘Samantha should do more to fit in’: that had been the mantra of her first few psychiatric reports.
It wasn’t that she ever thought she was special or superior. Even with the huge media circus that had accompanied her incarceration, she still felt woefully inadequate when compared to any one else in the unit.
On her wing alone there were murderers, serial killers, would-be terrorists and even a self-proclaimed ‘celebrity monster’.
Meanwhile, Samantha had rarely gone out of her cell.
All these women had their part to play in the undulating dynamics and rich tapestries of their gangs in the yard. But Samantha didn’t fit into any of those pigeonholes and so she had continued to feel more adrift and alone with each passing day.
This time though, stood in the prison library, the words felt familiar, just in a different way.
Great, even.
“There’s no one else like you, Samantha.”
She looked up at the owner of the voice and a crooked smile wrinkled at the corner of her mouth.
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