Jack's P.O.V.

" What is going on here?!" the maid, Marianne, exclaimed.

" N--n--othin." I mumbled, tears still rolling down my face. 

Marianne looked at Mark and shrieked. 

" Jack, was he going to harm you?!" she cried. 

" NO! He's..." I looked at Mark, " my friend." 

" Your father will not approve." Marianne scolded. 

" I'll make him." I said standing up, offering my hand to Mark. 

Mark took my hand with a soft smile. 

" Well, Albert made you a snack in the kitchen. It's ready when you are." Marianne said, opening the door. 

Mark smiled at me as we walked into the house. I walked into the kitchen, Mark trailing behind. I saw him look uncomfortable at the pictures of devils cowering underneath angels. Angels stabbing devils to death. 

" Sorry... my dad has an elaborate art selection." I said, embarrassed.

" Oops. Was it that obvious?" Mark said, clearly embarrassed too.

" Kinda." I giggled softly, " Uh... sorry for loosing it back there. What you said was just mighty awful. I cannot believe your treated that way." 

" Oh, that's okay. I'm used to it by now." Mark said quietly, his velvety voice quite calming. 

" I'm not all that hungry, you?" I said, turning away from the freshly baked cookies. 

" Yeah..." Mark replied. 

" We can work in my room!" I said, dragging Mark up the stairs with me. 

As I turned the corner to one of the upstairs hallways, I ran into a strong figure. My father peered down at me. I looked in Mark in absolute panic. My father turned towards Mark, his eyes nearly doubling in sight of him. 

" JACK!" his voice boomed. 

I shrank back in fear. 

" WHY IS SATAN'S SON HERE!" he yelled in absolute disgust. 

" F--f--or a sch--ool project father." I replied shaking. 

Mark looked like a dear in the headlights. He didn't know what to do. I grabbed his hand and squeezed it behind our backs. My father directed his attention back to Mark, boring daggers into him. He eyed the large scar running down Mark's cheek. He scoffed. 

" I gave that to you. You're the worst Hell has to offer." he spat, turning and storming down the hallway.    

Mark didn't look fazed.

" I get that a lot." he sighed. 

" I'm horrified." I said in absolute shock. 

I placed my hand on the scar on Mark's face. I traced it down to his neck.

" H--ow? Wh--y?" I cried. 

" All of Satan's children receive a beating from God when their born. It's to put us into our place." Mark sighed. 

I quietly took Mark's hand and led him down the hall. I let him into my room, and he stopped dead in his tracks. I assumed he must've been staring at all the things in my room.

" I know, I'm a spoiled lil' bitch." I said, nudging his side. 

Mark grinned, his overly pointy K-9s shining a bright white. I led him over to a bean bag corner like thing in my room. We flopped onto the bean bags in sync, and both let out a long sigh. 

" So... the project..." I stated, kinda awkwardly. 

" Oh... yeah. Um, what were the guidelines again?" Mark said giggling a bit, " I wasn't listening." 

" Figures." I laughed along with him. 

As we quieted down, I looked back at Mark's scar. He was staring at me too, again. 

" I... why...?" I said with a loud sigh. 

" We're God's, well, your father, we're his mistakes. So, I guess we're treated like them?" Mark said. 

Mark seemed to not understand the logic either, but he just accepted it. 

" But... we learn from mistakes! We should embrace them, treasure them! Use them to better ourselves! However, I disagree. I think that you defiantly aren't a mistake." I stated. 

Mark just looked at me for a solid minute. 

" Aren't you supposed to hate me?" Mark muttered. 

" Says who?" I replied, placing my hand on his shoulder. 

" I dunno, everyone." Mark said softly. 

" Well. I don't. Quite frankly, I don't give a shit what people think! I can like whoever I want to, not matter what they think." I said, passion in my voice. 

Mark gave me another one of his sweet smiles, his chocolate brown eyes filled with a new hope. We ended up not working on our project, we just talked for hours. Hour and hours. And let me tell you, those were some of the best hours I've ever had. Mark suddenly asked a question that threw me off guard. 

" Does your father find it a sin to not be straight?" Mark asked. 

" Oh... um... I'm really not sure. From what I've heard, my father, and my brother Jesus, preached for love, no matter the standards. But everyone takes it their own way." I said, " But it would suck if he did, 'cause he would hate me." 

Mark looked at me questioningly. 

" Shit... I shouldn't have said that last part." I laughed nervously. 

" Oh... no! You should've. It's good to know someone like me." Mark said softly.

" Wait... what?! Oh my god! This is amazing!" I exclaimed, taking Mark's hands in mine, " I have a friend just like me, oh my goodness! Wait... were friends right?" 

" Yeah." Mark said, a small grin forming on his face.

" I've never had a devil friend before." I murmured, a giddy feeling bubbling inside me. 

" I've never had an angel friend before." Mark replied. 

" So... um... what are you?" I asked. 

" Oh, I'm bisexual, but I kinda like guys more." Mark said, a mad blush forming on his face. 

" Awesome! I'm just flat out gay." I laughed, " I'm glad I talked with you about this, I haven't told anyone this... so I'm trusting you here Merk." my Irish accent altered Mark's name at the end. 

" Of course, same to you Jack." Mark answered. 

" Thanks Mark." I said sweetly. 

" No, thank you Jack." Mark answered softly. 

Sorry if I messed up anything about Christianity or the Bible. I'm not too familiar with it, and I don't want to offend anyone. Remember, this is just a book. Everything in here is pretend for your people's entertainment. Peace! 

~ Brook