Dear Diary, I don't know what the devil looks like... To be honest I think nobody does.

One time, my Sunday school teacher had shown us pictures and blatantly told us the grotesque figure with sharp teeth, claws, and hideous pitch eyes were the devil.

It'd made sense to me and later that day in school, (that is the public school I attended before I got a scholarship to Evans high school, a private school for the elites and a hell for the not so lucky) I'd called Bethany, the weird brunette who had been my lab partner for two years and have an endless supply of mucus on her nose, a devil. She'd cried and cried, so much so that guilt had clenched my soul in a vicelike grip even as I notice the hate for me that dug deep into hers.

Well, let's just say that was the last year she was my lab partner. That had prompted my earlier rooted belief that okay maybe the devil was indeed hideous if just the mere mention of his name had invoked such strong emotions.

Another lesson I learned about the devil was a total discrepancy. I can't remember where I have come across this particular slice of knowledge.

Maybe it was Belle's uncle who wears a white robe that made the "satan" in me get thrilled at the thought of dipping my hand into scarlet paint and ruining his white.

Of course, that was a thought I never shared but I was eager to see if his tainted garment would make his so very high shoulders normal like the rest of us.

He was a priest, I think that was what I've heard few of the women call him, so it made a great deal of sense if he was the one that told us the devil was Angel Lucifer, the morning star and so beautiful with a glorious voice that made Heaven swell.

Another lesson had taught that the devil was anything that tempts, I guess Brittany the blonde with fake extensions, well, was one since she had posted that unflattering picture of me in the sixth grade on Instagram and had tagged me in it!

The devil was not all that when he met me, He was Law Tyler, the sullen-looking boy with stormy grey eyes that always kept to himself but somehow was at the popular's table. Everybody wanted to figure him out, the girls too and so they'd come in their numbers, clinging and falling but he'd not even spared them a glance.

He was the Devil and I don't mean figuratively, I mean Satan, Lucius, Morning Star.

Whatever you call him is in Senior year with me, Row 5, Seat 17.

Two seats away from me sat the devil with grey eyes that turn pitch black when no one was looking.