What's become of this woman? A liar from the very begging and a liar in death. Where are her youthful years and where are the men she used to please until it became ridiculous? Where is this woman?

In the center of the room(see her?) there is a woman - much less under that façade -, dancing and smiling and gracious as the devil in the flesh. You'll see her and you'll love her and loath her all the same, at the same time. She's there, ethereal, unreal, but still there. She's not young anymore(don't you dare say it to her face), she's the vestige of eternal pleasure. But even the eternal pleasure rots and corrodes.

Under every freckle - covered with make-up - and under her flesh, there remains the memory and the sin of a woman who used to aspire for more than what she is or was or ever hoped to be.

She's the devil in the flesh.

She grew old and angry and hopeless, like the devil himself.

The devil in the flesh...

And where are her men - they are hers and perhaps forever hers-? One is right over there(don't tell her to her face), near the fountain, still young(she f*cked him when he was much younger) and fresh. With a young damsel in distress. And see the devil in the flesh again? She wants to laugh at how stupid the girl is. She'll crumble to pieces like she does right now, under the smiles and perfume and the beautiful façade. But she's jealous. And angry(almost crazy).

(Sebastian is his name, and he watched her moan in the mud, like the pigs, like a rat, hiding, evasive, ashamed, but how she enjoyed herself.)

There is another one - right over there(don't tell her to her face) -, another one of her lovers(she's married), another one of her 'subjects', another one who knows her taste. How she writhes and wets herself. How she cries and reduces herself. How she's fallen to the ground now, crumbled and ugly and sad and lonely and less than less than less...

There's five in the room. She doesn't see faces; she remembers the place. The time. The fear and thrill. The smell and warmth. The sudden cold. The less than warm good-bye. The pain and pleasure all rolled into one. One is outside by the fountain and one(we don't count him, he never even knew her anyways) who calls himself her husband.

Celine(that's the devil's name) is by his side(not really, but just pretend). He smiles at her. It's fake(don't tell anyone, but he knows). (He knows and she knows he knows). But who cares? It's fun to watch and not care.

She smiles and he smiles. We all smile(oh yes, great evening, congratulations.) (Bleh).

It's a great evening, yes, to laugh at the devil in the flesh.

Why, you ask? Why would he...? We don't know. We were too young to understand. He fell in love, I guess. He was handsome, at some point(when he was still a man). We knew him(not anymore, because he hides between her legs), as David(Dave). We don't know where he picked that anti-hero thing. He's always had it for all we know. He's not a woman's man(not even her pawn, because he's not brought her the pleasure others have). He's this devil's toy. He complies to her demands and kills whoever she names. The anti-hero(don't tell him to his face) without a f*cking speck of self-respect.

And he's prepared this for her. All for her. Vengeance perhaps. His last resort perhaps, because(submisive and all) he never forgets. Not with her. 

Now(don't look while laughing, she'll see), it's almost enjoyable to watch him dance with her. She's afraid, see? He's still young(she always picks them young), and she's ugly and rotten and groped and dry under the façade.

Yes, she's sick(don't tell her to her face). For a while now, she won't survive if she knows what is best.

She's sick. She's always been. In more ways than one.

Tonight is hers(like men who once were hers), and tonight we all laugh(don't tell her why, not to her face), and tonight we all celebrate(for various reasons) and tonight we all gather around her, to tell her(with our eyes, not to her face), to scream at her, how lovely(ugly) she is, how delicious(like a roasted chicken on a silver platter)she smells.

In the middle of the room, a woman(the devil in the flesh), waves and smiles, and cries under the beautiful facade.

(We know it and enjoy it, but don't tell her to her face).