In every book, movie, and Italian poem written by some dude named after a Devil May Cry character (no, it isn’t the other way around... how dare you), hell is portrayed basically the same way. Hell is shown to be a miserable, sweltering hot pit of pestilence and disease. A land devoid of hope and filled with nothing but screams and the suffering of those who have offended a higher power. Guess it’s only natural that a demon has dragged me here to be tormented for what will feel like an eternity.

 

Two kids with grease and ketchup covered shirts shriek louder than a couple of banshees as they rush past me and towards the safety code violation of a playground built into the side of our friendly neighborhood Burger Bonanza. I know I haven’t lived a righteous life to this point, but I never expected this to be my ultimate fate. Making the incredible mistake of being early for our meeting, I’ve been awkwardly standing outside of this monument to heart disease for half an hour, waiting for Haley to arrive.

 

“Mommy, mommy! They have a ball pit! Can I go play?” Phoebe’s ever excitable voice clues me into the demoness’ arrival. “Oh, can I get nuggets? And fries? Oh Oh, and choco-milk! Pretty pleeeease.” From across the street, I see Haley being dragged along by the wrist by her daughter. She’s wearing a familiar exhausted smile that I’ve seen on basically every parent's face coming in and out of this joint. Note to self, never have kids.

 

“We’ll get you some food when we get inside, but we’ll have to wait to play for a while. Remember why we’re here?” The way Haley speaks to her child is so incredibly different than how she addresses basically anyone else. She actually seems… Gentle? Nice? Damn, that’s trippy. 

 

Seeing me, the girl perks up and doubles their pace. “It’s the drawing-man. Hi, drawing man!” I force a smile at my new nickname while waving at Phoebe. With a gasp of delight, Phoebe turns back to Haley, bouncing on her heels like a fountain of endless energy. “Is the drawing man going to teach me how to draw?”

 

Chuckling, Haley ruffles the girl's hair. “Don’t act like this is news, Phoebe. I already told you that’s what we’re doing today.” Looking me in the eye without malicious intent, for maybe the first time ever, Haley shrugs. “I hope that’s okay with you. She’s been going on and on about wanting to make cartoons ever since the park.”

 

My role in all of this finally established, I squat down to meet Phoebe face to face. “I’m not the best at this, but I’d be happy to show you what I know. I’m W, by the way.” I reach my hand out to shake hers.

 

After a second of staring blankly at my hand, something clicks in her and she starts laughing while aggressively shaking my hand. “I am Princess Phoebelicus Von Sparkle!” After she lets go of my hand she strikes a practiced and dignified pose right out of some fairytale movie.

 

Not wanting to break form, I pull back in mock shock and awe. Placing a hand on my chest I force out the most exaggerated gasp of my life before standing to curtsey. “A thousand apologies, your excellency. I had no idea I was in the presence of royalty.” I speak in a British accent so bad, I wouldn’t be surprised to be formally banned from visiting England by the queen herself. 

 

Both Phoebe and her mother chuckle at my ludicrous display. “Haha, it’s okay. I am a ben-- beno-- bena? Mommy, what’s that word from the movie?”

 

Matching my terrible accent with an even worse abomination of sound, Haley stands at attention like the royal guard. “The lady wishes to express that she is a benevolent ruler, but that W is on thin ice and further infractions shall result in a severe reprimand.”

 

“A repri-- what? I mean -- What she said!” Raising her nose to the sky, Phoebe beams with pride. “Now onward, for food!” A rallying cry I would follow to the bitter end.

 

***

 

After getting Phoebe her Barnyard Bonanza meal, the three of us find a seat in the least crowded corner of the dining room. Phoebe excitedly pulls out a small book of drawings and proudly puts them on display. Now, I’d love to say that the girl has such an incredible natural ability that it stuns me with the sheer depth of her potential… but that would be a lie. She is a little kid and her drawings are lopsided, deformed amalgamations of what I assume are supposed to be body parts? Of course I would never say any of this out loud, but it wouldn't be fair if I couldn’t at least speak the truth in my own head.

 

For a solid half an hour, I go over some of the basics of drawing that I managed to pick up over  years of watching video tutorials and struggling to find a style of my own. To her credit, the little girl focuses on the lesson and seems genuinely interested in improving. By the time she finishes her food, she’s able to make basic figures that actually kind of look like the characters she’s copying from the books she brought along.

 

“I want to make my own!” she confidently declares with a burning determination in her eyes. She flips to a blank page in her book and holds her pencil over the page, completely still, until her little hand starts trembling. “How do I make my own?” Her voice is crestfallen as she slumps over a bit.

 

Ahh, the eternal dilemma of where to begin. As someone with about as much creativity as a children’s cartoon creator, combing through piles of fairy tales to rip off and exploit for profit, I don’t think I’m the best person to answer this question. “Honestly, that’s up to you. For me, I always find it easiest when you’re making a character that’s either like you, or how you’d like to be. Using the page as a mirror into a perfect world helps me visualize what I’d like to see and makes it easier to draw.”

 

I see Haley stare at me with a pensive expression before turning back to Phoebe. The little girl thinks on my words for a moment before lighting up. “I got it!” Struck by a sudden jolt of inspiration, Phoebe’s pencil races to and fro, quickly forming a cohesive portrait of…

 

“Haley?” I ask, honestly impressed by the likeness Phoebe manages to achieve in so short a time.

 

The demoness pulls the paper towards herself and stares at it for a second. Wordlessly scrutinizing the piece before returning it to Phoebe. “Sweetheart, you’re supposed to draw yourself… not me.”

 

“But, Mommy, I want to be just like you when I grow up.” It’s one of those rare moments when a kid says something so profoundly pure and innocent, it could melt the heart of a yeti. Hand to god, I have to stop myself from audibly cooing. Yet Haley just stares daggers at Phoebe.

 

“Absolutely not. You will not be like me, understand?”

 

I understand that your reaction is harsh as shit. What the actual hell? “But…” The little girl is stunned by Haley’s response. “Why not?”

 

Biting back a growl that could have been a roar, Haley composes herself before speaking again. “Phoebe, I mean it. Nobody wants to be like me. I don’t want to be like me. I am not a good person. I know it’s a lot to ask but… be better than me. Please.”

 

This is one of those moments where I honestly wish to be anywhere but where I am. Inside of an active volcano? Sounds lovely and toasty. Stranded in the arctic tundra? I’ll save a ton on AC. At a Chumbawamba concert? I’ll put in earplugs and their music won’t keep me down. This right here… is a special kind of uncomfortable that I don’t want to touch with a ten-foot pole.

 

Phoebe starts tearing up a bit. “I-- I’m sorry, Mommy.”

 

Regret washes over the demoness as she sees what her outburst has caused and she immediately hugs the girl. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m just a little tired, okay? You didn’t do anything wrong. Hey, why don’t you go play in the ball pit for a bit? Sound fun?”

 

The little girl looks up at Haley with wide-eyes. At times, kids can be highly intuitive and I swear that Phoebe recognizes that her going off to play for a bit will be good for her mother. The little girl puts on a slightly strained smile, voice still dripping with a sadness she hasn’t figured out how to hide yet. “Yeah, sounds fun. I’ll be back soon.” With that, Phoebe hops out of her seat and runs over to the playpen.

 

After Phoebe is gone, Haley deflates into the hard plastic seat. I don’t know if it’s the unflattering fluorescent lights, or the fact that she’s too tired to mind me finally getting a good look at her, but Haley is… haggard. She has dark bags under her eyes and her whole face seems sunken just a bit. “You’re lucky, that girl thinks the world of you. Not a lot of kids say they want to be like their parents.” I say this with the aim of maybe cheering the demoness up, but my words only seem to add pain to her exhaustion.

 

“I’m not actually her mom, dumbass. She’s my sister.” The insult isn’t necessary. How the hell am I supposed to know that when nobody sends me the memo? “The real ‘mommy’ skipped out on us. Left us with our aunt without so much as a goodbye. It almost killed Phoebe. She didn’t speak, didn’t eat, hardly moved a muscle… for weeks. She loved our mom, being abandoned like that… she couldn’t take it. I thought she was going to die. All I wanted was to take care of her… to be the person she needed. And then I changed. Now I’m a damn near carbon copy of her.” The last word out of Haley’s mouth is packed with enough malice and ill-intent to light a fire in her eyes. “Almost immediately after my change, she came back from the brink. She recovered, and I’m so happy for that… but I’ll be damned if I let her end up like me or our bitch of a mom.”

 

“Haley, I’m so--”

 

“Don’t fucking finish that thought. Please. The least you can do is spare me the pity. This isn’t any of your business… sorry about venting like we’re friends or something.” The woman sitting across from me is a far cry from the confident badass she presents herself as in school. Guess everyone has their limits. “If you want, you can just go now. I appreciate you coming out for her. I won’t bother you anymore.”

 

This is it... freedom. Haley will leave me alone, which will eventually lead to the rest of the goon squad backing off. I can have my peaceful and uneventful school life. Maybe I’ll be able to meet some friends now that I’m not always being chased from class to class. All I have to do is walk away and everything I want can be mine.

 

“Oh come on now, Rome wasn’t built in a day. If Phoebe really wants to learn how to draw, it’s gonna take at least a few more lessons.” Look at me, acting like I’m anything other than a complete amateur in my hobby. Haley opens her mouth, presumably to refuse before I speak over her for once. “Oh no no no, don’t go thinking this is some kinda charity. What do I look like, UNICEF? I don’t even know what that means. Point is, I expect payment for services rendered.”

 

Looking dejectedly at the table, Haley sighs. “Yeah, I wouldn't expect anything for free. So don’t worry about it, I can’t afford whatever price you have in mind anyway.”

 

Yeah, I know she can’t afford anything monetarily. She tried to hide the fact that she was paying for Phoebe’s food in coins collected in a plastic sandwich bag. Saying she isn’t hungry ain’t fooling anyone. “Pretty sure you’ll find my rates fair and equitable. For every lesson I give, I demand one hang-out day.” From Haley’s expression, I can only assume that I’ve grown a second head. Gotta say, not the metamorphosis I was hoping for. “You see, getting chased around all the time… well, that shit comes with a stigma. Do you know how many people want to hang out with the weird danger-prone, demon-bait human? None, nada, zippo. You’ve ruined me for other friendships and now you gotta take responsibility.” I think I just invented the shotgun friendship. Can’t wait for Billy Idol to write a hit song about it!

 

“Y-you can’t just say we’re friends and then poof, friendship. Shit doesn’t work that way?” A little bit of energy surges back into Haley as she stutters back into the conversation.

 

Shrugging off her valid concerns, I counter, “So you can just declare us enemies for life the day we meet, but suddenly a friendship is too complicated to just announce and make so? Newsflash, lady, more people in this world have friends than nemeses. Pretty sure this should work out just fine.” The demoness flops her mouth open and closed like a fish out of water. “Now, you sit tight and I’ll go grab us some grub. I got a whole mess of stuff I gotta talk to a friend about and--”

 

“Like your mirror to a perfect world?” Haley’s looking me directly in the eyes. There isn’t an ounce of judgment in her voice or expression. She’s just waiting for a response, still as can be.

 

“Yeah, like that.”

 

“So… the other day when I called you that name to insult you…” Here it comes, the harassment, the teasing, the abuse. Flashes of my time on the playground getting pushed around for trying to be like Willow come rushing back. That damned sketchbook should have stayed buried, or better yet, been burned to a crisp. If I had just never thought to bring it out again, this wouldn’t be happening and -- “I am so, so sorry!” What? “I had no idea. What I said was thoughtless.”

 

Waving away her… concern? Why’s she concerned about being mean all of a sudden? “No, it’s okay… actually, you kind of helped me out. I mean, I still don’t know exactly what’s going on, but you kind of gave me a nudge in the right direction.”

 

“So… do you want me to call you Willow from now on? Legitimately, I mean.” Hearing her say that name again-- my name again, feels wonderful. Just the way it sounds coming from her is some kind of miracle. Speechless in the familiar way I get anytime the subject is breached, I nod. “Alright then, Willow. Nice to re-meet you.”

 

Haley smiles at me. Not some menacing and predatory grin, not some teasing and cruel joke… she actually just smiles at me. For a single, ephemeral moment, everything is okay. One person outside of my family accepts me without question. Someone who until recently I thought hated me, accepts me. I am Willow.

 

Pushing back a sudden wave of fatigue, I stand up to get some dinner. High on the euphoria of something as stupidly simple as being called by my name. I make my way to the counter and find a cow-girl running the register… at a burger joint. This is some fucked-up Twilight Zone shit. Am I morally obligated to order chicken or fish now? “Hey, can I get two double burger specials and a large fries?” Morals be damned, I’m already in hell.

 

While I’m paying for the food, I feel a tug on my shirt and find Phoebe standing behind me. “W… you and Mom are friends, right?”

 

Awkwardly collecting my change from the pissed-off cashier who I’m just now noticing is wearing a “Meat is murder” pin, I look back at the girl and shrug. “I mean, I’d like to think we are… Yeah, why not? Your mom and I are absolutely friends."

 

My legs are immediately seized in a tight hug as the girl sniffles into my jeans. “Thank you.” Thankfully there is no line behind us so I’m able to stand still and let Phoebe hold on until her arms are tired. Without me even having to ask what just happened, Phoebe says, “Mom is sad a lot. I don’t know why. But… if she has more friends, then she’ll be happy, right?”

 

I grab my tray of ethically questionable foodstuffs with one hand and Phoebe’s hand with the other. She smiles up at me as I start leading her back to the table. “Don’t worry, I’m her friend… so I’ll try my best to make her happy. But for now… how about I show you how to annoy the heck out of her?” With a fit of giggles and a cheer, Phoebe starts pulling me along as we head back to Haley.

 

***

 

Three whole hours later, I finally manage to find my way home. It’s only nine o’clock but I feel like I’m crashing and burning here. Maybe I need to start drinking coffee or something, because this is ridiculous. Mom pops her head out of the kitchen and sighs. “You know, Willow, the least you could do is call and let us know you’re going to be late. Your father was worried sick about you.”

 

“Oh, and you weren’t worried?”

 

Waving me off and guffawing, mom rolls her eyes. “Please, no daughter of mine is such a weakling that she needs to be fawned over. Us Bosque girls are built tougher than most!” As Mom keeps talking, I’m hit with a fresh wave of exhaustion and nearly fall over. “Actually, I might have spoken too soon. You okay, hon?”

 

Holding my head with one hand, I steady myself on a chair with the other. “Yeah… I’m just really tired. I think I’m just gonna head to bed if that’s okay.”

 

I know Mom says something in return, but I can’t really hear it. Everything is blurry and my head is swimming. Taking two steps away from the table, I flop over and fade out.