I know the Devil

"Father I have sinned. I have a confession."

I lean against the confession booth relieved that I could finally tell someone this niggling secret that haunted me.

I wasn't Catholic, heck I wasn't a Christian but when your mom worked four jobs just to keep a roof over your head and your best friend and only friend think you are a psycho, a priest seems like a reasonable option to tell a sin that robs you of sleep constantly.

"What is it, my child?" The priest's voice comes out through the window.

"The devil kissed me and I liked it."



As I walked back home, my head down, hands tightly holding on to my backpack because of my squalor-like neighbourhood which breeds crime.

I couldn't help but smile a little, amused at the priest's face as I tried to convince him I didn't mean a figurative devil but the real deal.

I'm Prudence, a runt litter, a nobody in my private high school, and a charity case on scholarship but somehow the devil chose me.