After recording the first song she showed me and spending time together, Delilah says she has to talk with Lucy and develop her social media presence. I let her get to it and watch from my window as she crosses the street and enters her house with her things. Jesus is standing near my closet when I say to him, "I hope I made the right decision."

"What do you mean?" He asks.

"Not having sex with her. It took every fiber of my being to stop her. I mean, I really wanted to do that with her. But I know there's a better way to go about these things."

"It's hard to have trust in something when the whole world tells you to do something else."

"I mean, is it really that bad of an idea to do it now? Why should I wait?"

"I don't know. Do you think she's worth it?"

"What do you mean?"

"Do you think she's worth waiting for? Do you think she's worth it to the point where you'll wait for you and her to be unified by God to become one flesh together?"

"When you put it like that, it sounds amazing. But I'm seventeen, Jesus. I've never even watched porn or touched myself before. I just started touching her. And it makes me feel crazy."

"And I admire that you haven't given into the pleasures of flesh."

"It's just hard not to want these things, you know? She's—a goddess! And I'm—bleugh!"

"My precious Judas, you are more than your body. Do you know why she said yes to you in that Chick-fil-A?"

"I still couldn't tell you."

"Because you noticed something about her that wasn't about her appearance! While everyone else is focusing on her looks and staring at her and calling her a goddess, you're the one asking her questions about her spirituality. Her dreams. Her identity. You're the one that's actually caring for her in this town. And yes, you would be a fool not to notice her beauty, but you would be a greater fool to not notice the woman within. And you Judas, see the woman within. That is who you are waiting for. Not the woman you see on the outside, but the woman that cares for you on the inside."

I look into his brown eyes and I can't argue. He's right. Delilah isn't her body. And no matter how much I want to have that, I need to wait for it. Because if we both make it to that point, we'll be unstoppable.

However, she doesn't really believe in what I believe. So is she willing to wait like am? Or will she get bored and move on?

My phone vibrates. I pull it out to see it's Squid texting me.

Them: Hey you up?

Me: Yeah. What's up?

Them: Need your help. Can you pick me up at this address?

They send me their address. They're about ten minutes away.

Me: Okay. What's this about?

Them: Tell you when you get here. Thnx

It's raining when I arrive at a park in the middle of town. I see Squid in a red hoodie lying down, taking refuge under a tree when I park. I park and text them when I'm here.

They text me back.

Them: I can't walk

Me: Why? What's wrong?

Them: Nothing. You're just gonna have to carry me to the car.

I sigh after reading that message and then look at Squid's shivering body. Something is off about them. I'm not sure what but they need my help. I get out of the car and approach the tree until I'm standing over Squid. They're in the fettle position and they're almost as pale as Lucy.

"Hey, Judes," They say.

"Squid, what's wrong? Why are you in the park at this hour? And you don't look too good."

"Well, you know. You ever hear the phrase, 'Don't get high off you're own supply'?"

"Oh, Squid..."

"Yeah I uh—I can't stand or walk without feeling like I'm gonna fall. I—I need your help."

"Why aren't you home?"

"I sorta got into an argument with my Dad. It's kinda the reason I'm high. I can't go back home. Not like this. I just need a place to come down. Please, Judy. I'll owe you one if you do this for me."

I rub my eyes with my fingers then kneel down and slip my arms under their knees and kneck. I then pick them up off the ground and walk them to the back of my car. I open the car door with my right hand and lay them in the back seat.

"You're gonna be okay," I say, laying my hand on their forehead.

"Thank you, Judes."

I hop into the driver's seat and begin heading home.

I put Squid under my covers and put a cold wet rag on their forehead. I get them a bottle of water and sit at their bedside.

"It feels weird," Squid says, "It's like I'm stepping in and out of my body."

"I can't imagine how strange that must be."

"You um—you believe in God right?"

"I do."

"Do you ever—like—doubt?"

"That he's real?"

"Yeah."

I think about it, "I can't say that I have."

"Really?"

"I know it's common too, even for believers. But I've seen and heard Jesus for as long as I can remember. Even his disciples doubted him and he was right in front of them in flesh. And sure, I've questioned him. But I've never asked if what I'm seeing was real or not. It never mattered to me. Because I know if you or anyone else was living in my shoes, they would see him, and they would believe like I do."

"It must be nice. Knowing that God is real."

"It's more than nice. It's scary. Knowing that something so powerful spoke everything good and evil into existence. And that it has a plan. And that it for some reason loves you, even though you mess up all the time."

"Do—do you have to be sober from drugs to go to God? Do I have to clean up my life before I go to him?"

"No, Squid. You don't. You don't clean yourself up to get into a shower. You get into the shower to clean the dirt off of you. God comes to you as you are. You don't come to God when you're 'ready'. You come to God when you need him."

Their eyes look to the lower left, then back at me.

"Is it okay if I stay here for a couple of days?" They ask.

"I'm sure my Mom will be fine with it. I'll crash on the couch in the meanwhile. Are you still high?"

"It's getting better but yeah. And there's another thing."

They reach into their jacket and pull out a large ziplock baggie of white oval-shaped pills.

"This is all of it," they say, "Burn it. Flush it down the toilet. I don't care. Just get it away from me."

I take it out of their hands. I had no idea I would be responsible for disposing drugs on a Sunday.

"Hey, Judes?" Squid says.

"Yeah?"

"If you wanna ask you can ask."

"I don't follow."

"My name. It's pretty obvious my real name isn't Squid."

"I don't want to pry."

"It's just—I've never felt like myself until I found Squid—you know? It just made sense when I found it."

"Can I ask why 'Squid'?"

"Well let me answer that question with another question."

"Alright."

"What do Squid's do?"

"They ink?"

"And what do you do with ink?"

"You squirt it in predator's faces?"

"And?"

"—Write with it?"

"Boom! Pow! There you go!" Squid shakes their head in a little celebratory gesture, "I feel like writing is really important. Once something is written down within, it can't be erased. It can be covered, sure, but it's still under what's covering it. Once you give somebody an idea, you can't take that away from them. That's why I'm Squid. Because I want to inspire people with the right ideas and I don't want my real name or my gender or my religion to get in the way of that. That's why I love the internet—because once you put something on there, it's there forever. Which means burning books is a thing of the past."

"A lot of people don't understand that things on the internet are forever though. And that can also be used as a weapon."

"You can say the same thing about The Bible."

I'm taken aback by this.

"Think about it," Squid says leaning forward, "The Bible could be used as a tool to heal the world, or a weapon to destroy it. How are you gonna use it Judes?"

"Well... I want to save and seek the lost. And to do that, the bible would be a helpful healing tool."

"I wish more Christians were like you."

Some silence befalls us. Then Squid speaks up saying, "I—uh—I gotta tell you something. I haven't told anyone else. Only my dad knows."

"Okay."

"I got really sick a few weeks ago. My lungs started filling with fluid. We went to the hospital and did some tests. For some reason, they wanted to look at my lymph nodes. So they did a biopsy."

Their steel grey eyes find mine.

"I have lymphoma," They say, "The kind is called anaplastic large cell lymphoma. It's why my dad and I have been arguing..."

I'm frozen in my chair; my mind a mosh pit. Cancer. Cancer? Squid has cancer? Why Squid? Why now? Why would someone so young have such a disease? What do I say? There isn't a manual for responding to a friend when they tell you they have cancer.

"Are—um—are... are you okay?" I manage.

They snort, "I'm—I'm actually pretty optimistic about it honestly."

"That's shocking."

"Why's that?"

"I don't know—I just—I feel like I'm taking this worse than you are and you're the one that has cancer."

"I mean—I am high. And I've been pretty tired. I've mainly just been vegging out all day. My dad hasn't taken any of this very well. He started drinking again. Which makes me argue with him about it. I swear—he can do things like paint your room, and be the first to call you by your preferred name and support you, but then he'll come home at three a.m reeking of booze raiding the fridge and eating the lunch you packed for school. You scream at him right before he takes a bite of your sandwich and then chaos ensues."

"I'm sorry."

"It's fine. Shit like this just happens. There doesn't really need to be a reason for it. In a way, we're all gonna deal with something like this sooner or later. Either eighty years from now or at the ripe age of seventeen. We all come face to face with Death.

I think about my mother pulling that pulling the trigger on herself while I was in the room. I was eight when that happened. Eight years old. Far to young for anyone to meet Death.

"I just don't get it," I start, "Why am I so lucky? Why do I have Jesus? Why do I perceive the world this way? I feel like I'm going crazy. Like I'm actually not real. Not a person. Just some character. Ink on a page. Like you said."

"Who cares if you're not real? Does what you experience feel real?"

I think about it, then nod.

"Then that's all that matters," Squid reveals, "We might just be the dream of a being far beyond the stars. But this dream can be amazing. It can end in the blink of an eye and you wouldn't know the difference. You can get some kind of devastating news. Someone you love could die on their way home from work. You can get injured. Your boss can fire you. But as long as you're loved and you're not alone, it doesn't matter how long you have. Life is worth it. And to me, Judes, you're a person. A great one too."

"Everyone else at school seems to disagree."

"I did till recently. And if I can think you're great, then anyone can."

I look over to the closet and see Jesus standing in it, a huge smile on his face.

"I have one more request, Judes," Squid says.

"Anything."

"I've never had someone pray for me before. Can you pray for me?"

"Of course. Okay. Do you want me to do it out loud or—"

"I don't care."

"Well okay. Um. Okay. Well. Hey God. Bless the soul that is my friend Squid. They are a loving, kind, brave, and... resilient soul. Right now I ask you to give them your grace and your spirit and you let them know that they're not alone and that you haven't given up on them and that you love them. With all you're body. And all your heart. And all your spirit. It's in you're great cosmic existence I pray, amen."

When I'm done, Squid's eyes are closed and their breaths are shallow and calm. I smile, kiss them on the forehead, then leave the room and try to figure out what to do with the bag of drugs in my hand.

Then, there's a knock at my door. At this hour, I'm thinking it might be Delilah. But when I get downstairs and open the door, it's not a short blue-haired woman with ocean-green eyes. It's a lanky, red-haired, crimson-eyed girl.

"Hiya. Whatcha got there?" Lucy asks.

I hide the drugs behind my back even though she's already seen them.

"Sleeping pills," I lie.

"In a zip lock bag?"

"Yep."

"I guess you wouldn't mind if I took one then. I couldn't sleep so I thought I'd stop by and say hello," she starts to run her index finger up and down the threshold.

"No! I mean—uh—these are really strong sleeping pills. They'll—blow your dick off."

"Oh well now I have to try them."

Before I realize it, she's in my house and her arms are around me. She rips the bag out of my hands and twirls around me like a ballerina. I look around me in a daze then find her at the threshold of my door again. She reaches into the bag and pulls out a single pill. Before I can stop her, she flicks it into the air with her thumb and catches it with her mouth. She swallows it in one gulp and then leans back into the doorway.

"Fast acting as well," she coos, "You've been holding out on me, Judy."

"Those—those aren't mine."

"Oh, I know. They belong to our wizard friend that's here. Though it seems they're getting rid of such yummy merchandise."

"How did—how did you know Squid's here?"

"I didn't. But you just told me."

Not only is Lucy cunning, but she's also a Devil with that tongue of hers.

"Plus the drugs are a dead giveaway," she says, "You're not the type, Judy. No offense."

"Why are you here, Lucy?"

"Isn't it obvious? I have an insatiable desire I must quench. These drugs aren't nearly enough but they'll quell my hunger for now."

"Are you here for me?"

"And more! I have a reputation to uphold after all. I am the Devil. How's your dad's head feeling?"

"Right. You expect me to believe you gave my Dad a brain aneurysm?"

"Come now, Judy. Do you really believe that's the only thing that's a part of my plan for you and sweet D?"

"So you're telling me that you did give my Dad an aneurysm? How can you have that power?"

"You're killing me, Judy. I am the Devil, remeber? What part of that are you not understanding?"

"You're not the Devil, Lucy! The Devil is a man—"

"Says what, a book? Who was the Devil to the Romans? Hm? That's right, Venus—a goddess. For the Egyptians, it was Isis. For the Norse it's Freya. What if—and this might really blow your dick off—what if the Devil has always been a woman and an equal to God?"

"That can't be true."

"Why not? Because Jesus says otherwise? Ask yourself this Judas, would Delilah have gone to church with you if your Dad didn't die? Because I think you know the answer to that question."

The moonlight is shining against her back and her red eyes are gleaming into mine. She speaks with such conviction. She really believes she has all of this power.

"Why are you telling me all of this?" I ask.

"Because my sweet Judy. You may love God, but you have been taught to hate the Devil. However, doesn't the same book where that comes from tell you to love your enemies? That is why I am ushering in a new age, where man shall love God and Devil. Unified under both. And you are the key to it all."

The living room light turns on and I turn around to see my Mom in her pajamas.

"Who are you talking to?" My mother asks. I turn back to the open door to see that Lucy has vanished.

"The Devil I guess," I say, staring at the empty doorway.