HellChild

The Living Killers

     I woke up in my cell. A guard was yelling roll call, so I got up and went outside like all of the other prisoners.

     "Name." He said when I was standing in front of my cell door. "What is your name?"

     "I don't have one."

     "Of course you don't have one." He slapped me across the cheek. "I said what is your name! Answer me and stop being difficult. What is your name?"

     "HellChild." I said. Then I ran my hand through his chest. I held his heart in my hand. He gave a few shuddering breaths, blood running from his mouth. The wound is starting to seep blood, covering my hand in it. Then I felt his weight on my hand. I pulled it out, his heart still in it. The guard's corpse fell to the ground, and it tossed his heart to the side. My third kill.

      I looked up to see expressions of horror and respect from the other prisoners. "Who is in here for murder?" I asked. A man with a broad chest stepped forward.

     "I am." He said. He looked strong, and to an ordinary person, intimidating. "So, who are really, HellChild?"

     "I don't know. I don't know who I am, or where I come from. I am from Hell, so Demora, my master, calls me HellChild. I have no memory of who I was before now." The look of skepticism on the prisoners' faces was enough to tell me that they don't believe me. "You do not believe me? I just killed a man with my bare hand. But, I suppose anyone strong enough can do that. Alright, let me try one more thing to convince you."

     I feel the power in me rise to the surface. My shoulder blades protrude outwards, unfurling into black wings with various holes. My hands grew long, black claws, and my skin is turning a deep blood-red color. I grow curly black horns out of my head, my teeth are pointed and stained black, my eyes are red beads surrounded by darkness, this is my power!

     "Is this enough proof for you?" I asked the prisoners around me. My voice is now a blood curdling sound that can snap eardrums. It is deep, scratchy, and horrific. "Do you believe me now? No mortal can do this! I came here looking for something, and you helped me find my power. I thank you, humans, for helping me destroy your kind."

     I flew away, leaving the prison building a flaming wreck. I hear the screams if prisoners and guards alike. I turn my head around to see their burning bodies disintegrating to ashes. Nothing but bones remain. News of my existence is sure to get around. Good. I want the humans to know that a demon is walking amongst them. I turn back to my original self, but now I have a red low-neck dress with a black pattern around the shoulders that goes down past my breasts, and my hair is no longer a light black and a little wavy, but now it is as black as obsidian, and it has a wind-blown look to it.

     Some of these humans think they are killers, that they kill a life out of revenge, or to see what it feels like, or maybe to get something they want. But they are not killers. They are murderers. I am a true killer. I kill cleanly, and I have no remorse. These human killers are nothing compared to me. No matter. They will all die soon enough.