The next day, it was a rainy Monday morning. A rainy Vancouver never brought any comfort to me. Damien always did, but he wasn't here. I was all by myself in an overcast apartment as I get myself ready for work. It was cold, the bricks in the walls of my place weren't heated so I had to layer up my clothing.

I had some extra time before I had to leave so I spent this time lying in bed with Salem cuddled up to me. I wanted to cry, but the black cat would purr in my ear prompting me to hold the salty water back.

I could not stop thinking about him. His body, his blue eyes, or the way he would run his hands through his hair after a shower. The way he would look at me before he said he loved me or squeeze my hand whenever we went for a walk. I missed the heat of his body warming me up.

I close my eyes wishing that I could forget what Damien had told me. That he was one of the fallen angels from heaven and become a devil, overtaking the big kingdom of hell. It felt like so much for me to take in, but there isn't a complete shadow of doubt over my relationship with him. I still wanted him. I loved him. He was the only man I have ever loved, so how could I see myself leaving the only man I love? The only man I will most likely ever love in the way that I love him.

Before I know it, I have to leave for work. I grab my bag, coat and keys and leave out the door driving faster than I should to the publishing house. I forget to bring an umbrella so the short walk between the parking lot and the entrance to my job leaves me a little drenched. I walk past the reception nodding my head at the girls behind the desk. They give me a warm smile bellowing a, "Good morning Miss Bennet."

I smile back at them and walk straight to the elevator. Thankfully I was the only one there but since it was covered in numerous mirrors I couldn't get away from my reflection. I stare at the girl in the mirrored image. Her hair down, the fringe almost covering her eyes from the wetness of the rain, dark circles from her sleepless night and an upside-down smile. I try fixing my hair running my fingers through the knots and pushing my fringe to the side. Quickly I dab some berry lipstick onto my lips and just in time the elevator door opens.

I walk out and walk past a small reception with a girl behind the desk. Sophie was on the phone. I smile at her and walk past to my small office with a big glass window and a white wooden door. I was one of the three copyeditors for Association of book publishers BC, but I used to be an intern assistant to the big boss before I changed my position almost a year ago now. It was one of the best decisions I could make.

Then it dawns on me, maybe I could make the best decision to stay away from Damien, to avoid myself from getting hurt. I shake that thought out of my mind quickly. I needed to get some work done to distract myself. I was given permission to leave work for a longer break today anyway so that I could go see my father, I missed him and maybe he would be able to give me some advice on what I should do.

At lunch time just before I leave, I get a quick call from Lily asking if I want to join her and Hardy for some dinner at Notch8.

"Yeah sure," I say to her.

"Great, I've made dinner reservations for 5:30 pm, we'll see you there," she states and hangs up the phone.

This will be good for me. Going out and seeing my friends will be a further distraction from my urges to curl up in bed and cry.

I quickly grab my stuff and leave work. My anticipation to see my father is causing me to walk faster than normal. The girls behind the reception desk glare as they watch me leave, no doubt some form of jealousy that I'm getting out earlier than them.

I slip into my car, turn on the GPS and drive away towards the Fraser regional correctional centre. Taking the highway, it tells me that the drive should take no more than an hour. So, I decide to listen to the radio while I focused on my driving.

By the time I arrive, the rain has stopped. Leaving all of my stuff in the car apart from my phone and wallet, I make my way towards the entrance. The building is all red brick and green tile roofs all shaped and spread out in different and rather awkward positions. There is a mother with two small children walking in front of me, the little boy and girl jumping up and down no doubt excited to see a family member, perhaps their father like me. I feel a number of cold chills down my back the closer I get to the main doors. I've done this before, I've done this, many times before, so why am I freaking out? Perhaps because there is still so much, I want to discuss with my father about the incident, but our time together is always so limited.

When I walk through the doors there is a small line of people lined up to see someone at the prison. We all have to walk through security, leaving our coats and bags to be scanned on a moving tape of some sort. My turn goes swiftly and smoothly as always and when I make my way to a small desk for my name badge, I see a familiar face. A grey-haired policeman whose name was George. He has seen me coming in and out to visit my father more times than I can count on my fingers.

George is looking down at some papers, not aware of my presence.

"Annabelle Bennet," I say my voice a little husky.

George looks up at me and smiles. The wrinkles around his eyes creasing even more.

"Ahh, here to see your father, how have you been?" he asks as he pushes the sign in book in my direction. I take the pen and sign my name and date on a long list of names.

"I'm good, how are you George?" I ask politely back.

"Getting old but holding up well," he jokes, and he hands me my name badge. I take it and attach it to my trench coat pushing my hair to one side so to make it more visible.

"Best regards Anna," he says with a big smile and I move along as to not hold up the line.

I sit on a cold plastic bench with a few other people with a surprisingly young-looking guard watching over us as we wait for the prisoners to be rounded up and brought to the visitor's room. The smell is very metallic no doubt from all the metal gates. There is a hint of sweat in the air too. It's surprisingly very humid causing my palms to sweat. I fiddle with my hands trying to dry them on my trousers but its no use.

Then we hear a loud buzz startling the little children sitting beside me. Its time. We all stand to our feet, some more excited than other.

"Please walk through the door one at a time," says the guard loud and clear like we are some elementary school children. We line up and slowly make our way to the visitor's room.

The room is all white with metal chairs and tables all lined up in rows like in a classroom. It smelt like metal and paint and my brain assumes that they must've freshly painted the walls. I stand near the door my eyes searching for my father in the midst of prisoners in navy coveralls.

Then there I see him, smack in the middle, his eyes meeting mines and a huge smile appears on his face. I walk towards his direction and when I am right beside him, he stands and gives me a quick hug. Nothing too long as to not break any violations, but long and intimate enough for tears to align on my lower eyelids. We break the hug quickly darting our eyes to one of the police officers in the corner looking at us and sit opposite each-other.

"It's so good to see you Anna, how have you been? How is work?" excitedly he asks me.

"I'm doing okay dad, and work is good, how have you been holding up?" I ask him. I bite on the inside of my cheek to stop myself from crying. Seeing my father like this was very hard for me.

"I'm good, I am treated well enough, and listen I only have one year left to my sentence" he tries enthusiastically.

"Yes, and for a crime you didn't commit," I frown my eyes looking down onto the shiny metal table. I am haunted by the memories of the incident. Blood all over the couch, a knife and a lifeless body with multiple wounds.

"You really shouldn't have taken the blame," I start and look around the room to make sure no one is eavesdropping, "taken the blame for me," I whisper. My hands are in front of me resting on the table, clenched into a single fist.

"Sweetheart," he says my nickname in a way that prompts me to stray my attention to his face. "You were only eight, you didn't know what you were doing," he says softly and quietly.

"I must've known what I was doing dad," I say in a quiet panic, "it is my fault you are here," I continue shaking my head, "I-I feel so guilty about that."

I look down onto the table again and briefly feel my father's hands around the clenched fist that I have created. He squeezes them in his big hands as a sign of reassurance before quickly letting go.

"You have nothing to feel guilty about, that bastard deserved it for what he did to Elizabeth, assaulting her all those years, I just wish I knew about it sooner," he says, and a sad expression appears on his face.

My dad probably feels more guilty than me knowing that Elizabeth, my older sister, was sexual assaulted for a whole year by someone he considered to be his close friend. Shortly after his trial she committed suicide prompting my mum to divorce my father. It's been fifteen years, the same age she passed away.

Damien doesn't know the full extent of this past history of me and my family, but momentarily thinking about how he is the king of hell, perhaps if I told him the whole truth and nothing but the truth, he would be okay with it.

But until the day I die I will be eternally grateful for my older sister, for saving me from going through the same kind of trauma.

"How is Damien?" he suddenly asks when I am lost in translation.

"Damien is good, I think," I say trying to appear of smiles.

"You think?" he cross examines me with slight confusion.

"Well, we decided to spend a few days apart from each-other."

"Why? You always talked about never wanting to be apart from him, did something happen?"

"We just had a silly argument," I remark not wanting to say anymore.

"I do hope you'll work it out between the two of you," he states and just then another buzzer goes off. Both of us briskly turn our heads to look at the clock. Ten minutes is nowhere near long enough to see my father.

"Alight, time to say goodbye everybody!" voices one of the guards. Standing on top of one of the chairs their hands grasping their belt.

I turn to my dad and frown, "I'll be back as soon as I can, dad," I say as we stand.

He embraces me into a quick tight hug.

"I love you Annabelle," he whispers to me.

"Love you too, dad," I murmur back, and he releases me from his embrace.

We twinkle at each other and I stand beside my chair watching my father walk away. His back to me, I watch as a guard puts his handcuffs back onto his wrists behind his back and whisks him away.

I take a few seconds to recollect my emotions before I turn around and leave the room. I walk past the mother with the little boy and girl crying while they say goodbye to a man. As I continue walking, I walk past a couple of guards who eye me suspiciously as I troop over to George. I take off my name badge and hand it over to him.

"Positive visit?" he asks me.

"Yes, of course, it was lovely seeing him again."

"Will we see you again, soon?" he asks as he pushes the sign out book. Hastily and messily I sign my name.

"Hopefully, have a good day George," I beam.

I turn on my heels and walk away before I can allow him to say anything else to me. I had so much to think about.

I strut back into my car, the clouds a dirty grey, it looks like it's about to rain. I shut the car door a little too loud and rest my head on the steering wheel of my BMW, grasping onto it with my hands.

If it weren't for the incident when I was eight and my boyfriend being the devil my life would be normal right now. I wouldn't have to be feeling so guilty about what I did when I was a child out of a sudden anger with what that man did to my sister, or try to make up my mind about whether I wanted to continue my relationship with the love of my life, who also happens to be the devil.

Maybe my boyfriend being the devil is some kind of a sign. Maybe that's where I belong for stabbing a child molester to death. The images of that night become very vivid in my mind though I don't remember much. Just that my dad saw the body and I had to explain with Elizabeth what, why and how. He forced us to leave, Elizabeth helping to clean his blood off of mines and her body. I was eight, she was fifteen. We were just children caught up in something we shouldn't be. I know my father feels so incredibly remorseful over the situation with what happened, but when he found out the truth, he was livid. I will never forget the way his anger appeared in a flash all over his face. 

I quake these bad thoughts out of my mind and decide to drive back to work for at least two more hours. I will be able to distract myself before I see Lily and Hardy.