In all my years, I don't remember being sad. My life has been a flurry of joy and discovery. Fairly popular in high school, I dedicated my time to studying, cheer leading and a good group of friends. My sense of style has always helped me stay popular, and with every passing year, I put it to good use by spreading positivity, and giving great advice for peaceful leaving.

It isn't easy to create the lifestyle you want, but little tips and tricks help. From the perfect outfit, to a beautiful decoration, to the perfect hashtag, everything made people happy.

And that was my goal. Keep myself and other people happy.

So I was. Which is why this whole stuck-in-Damian's-body thing makes no sense. It feels like punishment, but what for when all my life has been about spreading good vibes? #blessed #positivity

"Carolyn, are you okay?" Fifi asks, her voice small. "You look strange. If I didn't know better, I'd say you look... sad." She says the word and shudders, like it's a disgusting curse.

It is, for people like me and her. With a sigh, I head for her balcony and step into fresh air. Her neighborhood is silent for New York, so I can tune out the ever-present rumble of traffic and enjoy the silence. That until one of the neighbors starts screaming at a random man on the street because his dog just took a giant crap on the sidewalk.

"Ugh," I mumble, and I can feel Damian sharing my feelings.

"You gon' pick that up?" Fifi's neighbor yells.

"No, Imma spread it right here so you can step in it."

I've never really enjoyed Fifi's neighborhood that much. Her apartment is great, decorated with unique items from our travels, but the building itself... It leaves a lot to be desired. But I'm not going to let that get to me #goodvibesonly

"If you don' pick it up, Imma come shove it down your throat."

Oh my God, how can some people be so unpleasant? #getsomechill. When all this is over, I'm going to make a vlog episode regarding good manners on the street #wecanallgetalong. All we need is to try, smile, lift our eyes to the skies and--

My thoughts screech to a halt as I do just that. There are more butterflies flying above the city, their wings vibrant shades of yellow, blue, green and red. I reach my hand out, even if I'm too far away to touch them. They seem to be singing, a soft melody that drowns the malevolence of the city. Something shifts within me and I think Damian, wherever he is, is seeing this as well, through my eyes.

"Beautiful," I breathe, and he says the same thing inside my head.

We're both in awe as we watch the tiny butterflies dance in the sunlight, orange rays glinting off their delicate bodies. I'm not sure if I'm imagining it, but their wings seem to be spreading tiny specs of gold dust.

"Can I join you?" Fifi does just that, stepping next to me on the small balcony. "Oh, hello Mr. Smith." She waves at her screaming neighbor.

"Good afternoon, girl," he says, waving back. "Look what this bugger and his mutt are doing!"

"Oi! You can't leave that dog crap there," Fifi yells, all but lady-like.

I bring my hands over my ears, trying to block out the noise, her tone breaking my chill and butterfly-induced happiness.

"Fifi, do you really have to scream?" I ask.

She grins at me. "Sorry. I like my neighborhood clean."

I glance from the overflowing dumpster to a puddle of what looks like vomit, then back at her. Yes, the dog crap is the neighborhood's biggest problem.

"What are you doing out here anyway? It doesn't smell very nice."

Between the trash, the vomit and the poop, I'm not sure which smells worse. I just needed the air and... I look back towards the sky. The butterflies are still there.

"What are you looking at?" she cranes her head up as well, taking in the sky. "Huh, pollution cloud looking artistically pink today."

I don't see it. I see clear blue skies and beautiful butterflies. "Can't you see the butterflies?"

She looks at me like I'm insane. Maybe I am, but this is the sort of insanity that is totally worth it. The beauty of the image fills my heart and I instantly decide that once I get my body back, I'm going to get a butterfly tattoo.

Where?

"I think I'll have it on my hip. It's discreet, intimate and in good taste."

"What are you having on your hip?" Fifi asked, taken aback.

I blink and stare at her, then realize, due mostly to the laughter inside my head, that it was Damian who asked.

"None of your business, you perverted son of a bitch," I growl.

Fifi stares some more and Damian laughs some more, and I'm once again tempted to throw myself off the balcony just to spite him. Stupid body would probably land on its feet anyway.

You can bet I would.

How is he becoming so vocal?

I'm starting to get used to the craziness of the situation. By the way, the space at my disposal inside your soul is tiny.

That makes one of us. And you're the one with a giant hole in your chest.

You're doing just fine, beautiful. And not denying the giant hole in my chest.

Don't call me beautiful, you evil, vile, slimy-- I can't even think words bad enough to describe him.

Yeah, yeah. You need me though. And after all this is over, you can have your revenge. Whatever that might be. Hashtag good vibes only.

I hate that I instantly start plotting. I'm a kind, forgiving person #Imbetterthantat. I'm not going to let Damian Bradley and his nastiness get to me. I'm just going to admire the butterflies some more and get the peace I crave.

"You're acting really weird," Fifi says.

I tighten my hold on the metal railing, and I'm shocked and thrilled that it bends in my hands a little. Hell yeah, I'm strong. #superheromaterial. I'm like Captain Marvel. #girlsdoitbetter

Originally a man.

Shut up, Bradley!

"Seriously, Carolyn. You keep making weird faces."

Oh my, God, Fifi! You're breaking my chill now! But I just take in a deep breath and look at the sky. The butterflies are still there so I ask again.

"Can you see the butterflies?"

She squints. "I think that's a pigeon, Carolyn."

She cannot see the butterflies. Which means they're actually something supernatural. Hating myself for this, I focus inward and repeat the question to my host.

I can see them. They're wonderful.

I smile because I agree. But what are they?

I don't know. I haven't seen them before. But... 

There is silence and I hold my breath. Why does he always have to be overdramatic and keep me on the edge like this?

I like holding you on the edge. You're adorable when you're excited.

Creep. I swear I'm going to jump crotch first on something to teach him a lesson. He chuckles in my head and it only strengthens my resolve to actually do it.

Anyway, he continues, apparently wanting to keep his family jewels intact and maybe put some pretty babies into that wife of his, the first time you saw one of those butterflies was when that woman in the car made it.

I ponder on his wording, but I too remember that she seemed to sigh it out, the tiny flying sapphire. So tender, and beautiful, and fragile.

Yes, gorgeous. Damian sounds a little bored now. But maybe what you're seeing with your innocent eyes and my supernatural abilities are pieces of soul.

Um, what now?

"Carolyn?"

I ignore FIfi, because if Bradley is on to something, it just might make this mission so much easier.

They say that when something tragic happens, we lose a piece of ourselves. He points to the sky using my hand. Pieces of soul. 

"What are you pointing at?"

I consider this, and the more I look, the more I understand. I might not be very brainy, though smarts come in many shapes and sizes, but feelings and color patterns are something I can deal with. I try to remember every detail about the birth of the beautiful blue butterfly.

Sadness. When she turned off her phone, the woman was sad, like she lost someone she loved. And maybe there is a reason why blue is the color of sadness, even if no one is able to explain it intellectually.

"Sadness," I whisper, then point to a red butterfly. "Anger." Then a yellow one. "Jealousy." And the green one. "Envy." All the reactions to loss, the nasty traits of human nature.

"Carolyn, you're really scaring me."

"I can see pieces of soul," I say, finally turning to Fifi. "They look like really beautiful butterflies."

She gives me a sideways glance that screams Holy shit, this woman is crazy, but just says, "O-kay."

"This is great! It means that I can do this. Maybe the Devil doesn't want a soul, just a piece of..." My voice trails off as I realize there are hundreds of butterflies out there.

That's just this neighborhood, Damian points out, totally unhelpful.

Fifi's eyes widen with excitement. "Wait, you're totally right. Yes! We can do this! I should go find a leather outfit too so we can be a soul searching duo!"

The idea makes me cringe, but I force a smile. "Sure."

What's her story?

I ignore Damian, because I can tell he wants to make fun of her. Fifi needs excitement in life as well and a higher purpose. She's always been my trusted sidekick.

You both need to really get a life.

Moron. Unlike you, I have one, and a body, even if it's yours.

I'm not even going to bother to explain how my life is far superior to his. It should be obvious. He's a soulless hunter working for the Devil, while I'm happy and travel the world, forging meaningful relationships and gaining unforgettable experiences. Fifi and I are both happy, our lives full.

Really? Stare at Fifi.

That's a really weird and creepy request.

Just humor me. He sounds impatient, so I let out a dramatic sigh and focus on Fifi. 

Her grin fades and her mouth turns into a tiny O. I'm not sure exactly what I'm supposed to be seeing. I know Fifi's every feature, from her hazel eyes, her sharp cheekbones and slim cheeks, to the slight bump on the bridge of her nose which she refuses to admit is there. For once, she doesn't speak, so staring is easy. Though I have to admit I don't like the light shifting in her eyes, as if she's looking at something gorgeous and fabulous.

Okay, I must admit Damian is gorgeous and fabulous, but she knows it's actually me. I squint and stare harder, trying to put her off. It doesn't work. A silly enamored smile fills her face. I just want to scream, but stop when I notice something, like a thin silver outline hugging her body.

Damian takes over and our eyes scan the outline. I can tell Damian is looking for cracks in it, but he finds nothing.

Fascinating. She's never lost anything in her life.

That was actually true. Fifi comes from a happy family who loves and supports her. She's always had friends, was never bullied, and managed to get a freelance job straight out of college which she still has. I don't really remember her being seriously sad about anything.

Her soul is intact, Damian declares, and I'm glad it is. She deserves that. A slither of doubt creeps up my spine, and I wish I could look at myself, see if my lining is just as full as Fifi's.

It's not, the annoying voice inside my head says. My soul wouldn't have fit with yours if yours was in once piece.

His voice make me want to cry, but his tear ducts don't work. I hate him, I really do, as he denies me the most basic relief. I break eye-contact with Fifi and storm inside. I drop on the couch, my face in my hands, as my mind runs at fifty miles per hour.

That's not very fast.

Shut up, Bradley!

But I can't be angry, I'm just sad. Because I know the exact moment in my life that a beautiful sapphire butterfly detached from my soul and headed for the heavens. I was ten and spent over a day on an uncomfortable hospital chair, waiting for news about by Nana.

The woman who raised me, who showed me the wonders of the world and taught me what love really was. She hadn't even been that old. Just crossed the street and got hit by a drunk driver. It wasn't natural. It was violent. She died after three days of intensive therapy, her body broken and battered.

I cried so much. I never felt so broken in my life. And when my mom told me that she was gone, it did feel like a little piece of me was gone. The happy, carefree granddaughter of a wonderful woman.

I buried the memory in my adult life, because it still made me cry, and I never lived anything even slightly similar again.

I'm sorry, Carolyn.

I ignore him, still annoyed that I can't actually cry. His body is so frustrating. I can sense something amuses him, but I still have the blues.

If it makes you feel any better, the chip of your soul that is gone is tiny. I can barely fit in here.

His words are so inappropriate, but stir something inside my mind. I stand, fists clench, posture straight and filled with confidence. I can now see pieces of soul. I can find the one I lost and put it back. I can be whole again!

Um... Sure, why not?

"Like it or not, Bradely, we're doing it," I declare. "I need my soul back."

"Who are you talking to?" Fifi asks, obviously freaked out by my sudden revelation.

"Fifi, we're on a mission!" I say instead. "We need to get my soul back!"

"Um, okay. Is it your soul that the Devil wants?"

Oh, right. There's that, too. I completely forgot. Just like I forgot we're actually waiting for Butch to come back with information about that.

Like a given, the Ouija board carpet lights up and the tiny demon appears in a puff of fabulous pink smoke. At least he has style.

This time, he doesn't start running around like a cartoon mouse. His cheeks ar puffed up, his lips pursed and his eyes bulging, as if he's hardly containing himself from laughing.

"Any news?" I ask after ten whole seconds of silence.

Butch bursts into hysterical laughter. I tilt my head and jump when after a few seconds,Fifi joins in.

Oh, boy, Damian mumbles, entirely not amused. This is going to suck, but ask him.

"Well?" I insist.

The little demon laughs some more, then finally draws a deep breath. "I could get obliterated for this, but it's just too funny."

"What is?" Fifi asks, even if tears of laughter are streaming down her cheeks already.

I'm honestly starting to envy her. Life must be easy when you just go with the flow.

"The piece of soul," Butch says, drawing gasping breaths between laughter. "The one that you gotta find." More gasping and more laughter. "It belongs to Satan."

I freeze, my body now stiff as a board. I don't need Damian's bemusement to tell me that something is very off here.

This is not funny.

This complicates things.

I cannot agree more.

👸👸👸

Chapter word count: 2524

Total word count: 14,451

Look at me, so close to the end. Just 6k words to go. And there's still story in there. I might just be able to wrap it up... well, not in 6k words, but I might keep it under 30k. Shortest thing I've ever written.

So, you actually get some backstory about Carolyn here. She too is missing a piece of her soul, which is the only reason Damian could actually use her. He needs some space in there as well, even if it's a tight squeeze.

And now she has her goals. Her own soul as well as the devil's. Did you see that coming? And how will Carolyn actually find it?

Stay tuned for more fun and find out! Every vote and comment and all your support is very appreciated.