Cramped Quarters - Love Under Lockdown

His door was closed, as it often was. Though I somehow doubted that he kept a chair wedged under the knob. It was unlikely that I might try to baptize him in his sleep.

If half of what I’d heard about people like him were true, it would not be a pleasant experience. Steam would start to rise from his skin as soon as it was touched by Holy Water. Fuck, my dad used to talk about Satanists like they were fucking vampires.

I wanted to knock but something stopped me. He sounded really busy, the sound of his keyboard audible through the door. I didn’t want to disturb him. It might have seemed like a pathetic excuse, but it was true enough. Before I left, my ear was caught by the song he was listening to.

He is/ He’s the shining and the light without whom I cannot see. And he is, insurrection, he is spite, he’s the force that made me be.

It sounded like church music, but, knowing Augustus, it was about Satanism.

How odd.

Now I was really curious and determined to find out more about him and his beliefs.Chapter Twelve - AugustusI was okay. It was the first time in a long time that I hadn’t woken up screaming. So, in that sense, it was a nice change, really.

Lifting my head, the keys that were on my pillow not wanting to let go and leaving their impression in my skin, I noticed the record player was still spinning. The needle was thumping in effectively against the label.

Rallying all my strength, I arose like Lazarus and limped on my snoozing right leg to the player, putting it out of its misery.

Slipping the record back into its sleeve, returning the precious, vintage, vinyl to its alphabetical spot in the row on my nightstand, I selected my next outfit from the free-standing closet and headed for the bathroom.

I did a quick sweep of the common space, making sure Rachel wasn’t around. If she was, then I would retreat and give her space. The coast was clear, and I booted it to the bathroom, suspending the hanger of fine, secondhand clothes on the hook set into the back of the bathroom door for this expressed purpose.

No sooner had I sat back down at the desk, showered, and dressed, with breakfast in hand, then I saw a message come through on my email system. An instant message, it stood out against the white background, in hues of pink that were close to red but not quite there.Rachel: You up?It was technically possible that I was still logged in from the day before. I decided to be nice.Me: Very much so. Just had a shower.My words came up in dark blue. The color and font selection were meant to be default as well as random, so I didn’t look too far into it.Rachel: I thought I heard you.Me: Who else might it be at this time of day?Rachel: Noon?Shit, it really was, too. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d slept that long. Nearly nine hours in a row. There was definitely something different about Rachel. Something that managed to soothe my savage mind.Me: That’s late for me.Rachel: Figured, I mean, I usually hear you much earlier.Me: So you can avoid me?Rachel: At first.Me: And now?Rachel: Reconsidering.That was a surprise. Not that I wasn’t happy to hear it. If nothing else, everything would be a lot more pleasant for both of us if we didn’t act like we were walking through a minefield every time we left our rooms.Rachel: I was going to knock yesterday but you sounded busy. I heard your music. It was nice.Me: Ghost.Rachel: What?Me: The music. It was a Swedish Metal band called Ghost.Rachel: Metal? Like, Heavy Metal? It didn’t sound like it.Me: They do things differently in Europe. ;)I could hear her giggling through the wall. It was beautiful.Rachel: It sounded fascinating. I loved the instrumentation, particularly

at the beginning. Oh, and the choral sections. It almost sounded

like something I would hear in church. Particularly with the Latin

in the chorus. Was it about God?It would have been the perfect time to lie. I don’t know what else I would have said but I knew that the worst possible thing would be to tell the truth. That the song was about Lucifer. Or at least the idea of Lucifer. Using it the way most LaVeyans, particularly in the later period, did, as a metaphor. A symbol of rebellion against absolute authority.

We could very well use someone like Voltaire, who did the same thing with the royalty of France and suffered for it. In the name of freedom and personal autonomy. Lucifer just had a bit more chutzpa.Me: The truth?Rachel: If you don’t mind. :PMe: It’s actually about the devil. Or more accurately

Lucifer. How the idea of Lucifer is portrayed in Pop