TwentyThe first thing Lucifer noticed when he woke was pain. Intense. Debilitating. He passed into unconsciousness.
When he next woke, he took note that he lay in broken glass, fine bits of which scoured his corneas when he opened his eyes. Squinting through tears, he had the urge to reach up and scribble 'wash me' in the grimy, cloudless sky. This sky would never rain, nor would it ever be clean. He didn't know how he knew it, but as he lay there taking census in his body, it felt true.
The air was flat and stale—breezes never blew here either. It appeared to be twilight, but there was no light source that he could see. His body ached, every nerve raw and screaming. He felt heavy, the clothes he wore even heavier. The glass ground into his joints and poked into the soft tissue. Even his
