He wasn't sure if he should kiss her or kill her...or both. He wasn’t beyond murder. He’d accidentally shot a man when he was thirteen, and well, once you’ve done it, it wasn’t that big of a thing to do it again. She was kind of pretty. It wasn't like he was going to get in trouble for it, either.
The girl in front of him stood beside a mirror and behind a wall. She brushed her hair and started to change while never knowing she was being watched. Her long chesnut hair got swept up into a sloppy pony tail. The tattoo on the back of her neck made its debut, and a cheesy-red pheonix greeted the world. She thought she was so tough. She would be easy, though. She was just like the rest of them.
“Do I have to do this tonight?” he mumbled.
“Yeah, you do,” Levy's perky voice squeaked through the trash-piled alley. “If you screw up again, we’ll lose points. I want these points.”
“Points, eh?” he sighed. “Alright, if you say so.”
“I say so,” she pushed. “Go.”
He went. The window creeked. The glass whispered under the knife, and he cut it without a sound. It was back to the lab again. It was just back to work. He’d take her out, collect his points, and return to hell where he beloned with Levy at his side. Points were everything. Get enough of them and you could buy a week or two on earth to drink beer and eat Doritos. It didn’t matter what you had to do to get them. It was the little things that really mattered. People just didn't get it. They wasted the little things they had.
The gritty lock slid back under his thumb. The window was easy, too. He almost didn’t stop to think about it, but he did. He twitched his muscles so that things went silently. He didn’t need her to turn around, see him, and start wailing like a fat woman having to wait on a burger. That was the last thing he wanted to hear, so he worked like the ghost he was. It was convience only. It wasn’t like he could die again.
“Leon, hurry up,” Levy huffed from the sidewalk.
“I’m a Deadman not a Demon,” he snarled.
Levy was going to scare the girl into being noisy, and all of his work would have been a waste. She never did know when to shut up. She used to pull that crap all the time. She'd get on the phone in check out lines and complain about how slow the cashier was being. Leon couldn't work any faster than he already was. It wasn’t like he enjoyed having to do crap like that anyway. Still, he needed her. They always split the points.
The woman was already in bed when he got inside. The television flickered over her body and a mangled mess of blankets. She slept on her side like most people did. Her wavy hair faced him, but she didn’t have enough time to open her eyes. Thankfully, he didn't have to listen to her scream. It was quick, neat, and efficient: the way he always worked. She was gone.
“2,000, right?” Levy asked as she jumped into the room from the window.
“Yeah,” Leon sighed, “2,000.”
“Heck yeah!” She squealed again. “I know just how I’m going to spend it, too.”
Leon didn’t answer her. His eyes hung over the freshly-dead woman in bed and the hand that was slung out over the mattress. Her nails were red like the sky was the day he died. He ran his fingers over the stitches on his neck. People who went to hell didn’t get new bodies, and he didn't make a pretty ghost.
Levy followed his gaze and got quiet for a change. She stuck her pink lip in between her teeth and bit it a little. She did that a lot when she thought about things—when she thought about things.
“It kind of sucks, ya know?” she said. “Don’t you feel kind of bad? I mean, all we're doing is dragging more people down here with us.”
Leon shrugged. He didn't think about that kind of thing because it just didn't matter. Nothing he thought would change the Devil. Nothing he thought about would bring him back to life again.
“She was probably a bitch anyway,” he said as he flipped through the carpet and plucked up stray pieces of glass.
“I guess,” Levy shrugged. “I’m glad you do the dirty work.”
“You’re welcome, princess,” Leon said and tossed the glass back out of the window and onto the cement below.
Levy gave him a sort of crooked smile that was a little cute—even for her. She took her tiny body out of the window and jumped to the ground. Her blond hair looked white in the moonlight. It reminded Leon of a knife. He couldn't get away from seeing blades. He’d gotten sort of used to it, though. He slid outside after her. She was already skipping towards the trees and singing her “points" song. She loved being called “princess”.
The two disappeared into the woods without being seen. In the morning, the cops would come and a cold case would be made—not that it would matter. The woman was dead to Earth. She’d wake up in hell or heaven and start a new journey. They didn't know which. They were just out “pointing up”.
“What're you going to do with your points, Leon?” Levy asked as they marched past the broken trees and curious owls.
“Go stalk my old girl, I guess,” he said, “maybe get a cigarette. I gotta get rid of this taste in my mouth.”
“Why don’t you leave her alone already?” Levy said and kicked her foot against a rock. “Seriously, like, you can’t be with her any more. You're dead, and she’s not. Why not go watch something more fun? She’s so boring.”
“She ain’t like us,” he mumbled. “That’s for sure. Besides, you think shopping does you any good?”
Levy shrugged, “I like it anyways.”
“Then you understand,” Leon said and cracked his neck. The sting never really went away. She never really went away, either, except when she got points. She'd run amok on Earth doing whatever it was she did during life. He wasn’t quite sure, but it got her out of his hair for a bit.
“Whatever,” she nodded. “I just want out of that place. You understand that.”
“Don't we all?”
They reached the cemetery in record-time. Levy went left. Leon went right—until they both found the right tombstones. Levy sat cross-legged on the grass above her grave. Leon all but fell on top of his. Their spirits sank past their rotten bodies and back into hell. It wasn’t where either of them wanted to go, but it was too late to change destinations. They’d be “pointing up” until God decided to throw the devil and hell into the lake of fire—whenever that would be.