The Demon I Used To Be

Chapter six

January 1, 2013

Birds singing, trees dancing in the morning breeze and the river swooshing: nature's music filled the air. I splashed two hands full of freezing river water on my naked self to wash off lather. As I remained squatting, I poured some more...then more, till I was completely rinsed. I had been taking baths there once in a while and washing my mouth as well so I didn't kill with stink - gunshots were more fun.
Unlike the other days, I put on some different clothes when I was done: the black jeans, white top, and ash hoodie I had gotten from the former gun owner. I broke a small branch that I could reach, from one of the trees, then scrubbed my mouth with it, meticulously. Afterward, I rinsed with some of the river water.
I hung my pouch on my neck then trudged up the hilly path through which I had come, planning my day. I left my almost used up bar of soap on a rock there; it'd always remained where I left it. It had been a week since the incident at the clubhouse. I had only killed one other person -ambulances got to the other two before they gave their ghosts up. The second person was an Asian woman. Although, she thrashed me first for eating food she'd ordered, so the gunshot was in self-defense. In short, she was unfortunate - I concluded.
I walked past the bar that had sold my first whisky. It was closed; asides the shut doors, there was a neon sign that said 'Closed', hanging on the wooden door. I stomped further into a proper street. 'Molly's Fresh Muffins (MFM)' was printed on a banner just below the roof extension of a brown booth, decorated with pictures of muffins of all colours. This place was also closed. Its attendant, probably Molly, was either hospitalized, buried or about to be buried. I picked a muffin: she picked a fight...with an eleven-year-old kid. Again, the gunshot was self-defense.
The further I went, the busier the street became. A young man dressed in ragged clothes pelted past me, pushing a cart filled with apples and yelling, Make way! Make way!" A fat woman swept the street with a long broom. A truck arrived. It had plastic chairs packed in about five stacks and some disentangled tables in it. There was a man tacking an end of a red decorative material to a wall, by my right; he stood on the next-to-last step of a ladder beside a woman who held up a blue decorative material above her head.
"Hey girl! Could you help get the scissors from the other decorator?" Another man yelled. He was reciprocating the decoration on the opposite side. "Sure" I muttered under my breath. I walked sluggishly towards the man and snatched the scissors from his hand. Immediately, I hurled it at the yeller. Oops! I missed; he dodged it.
"That was dangerous! You should've alerted me first!" His eyes were widened as he yelled. He was clearly getting over a nightmare since the scissors had travelled towards his eye, speedily.
"Is that so?" I responded, wryly then continued on my walk. I could feel his mad eyes on me as I strolled away.
'Buy a medium size Royal Icing cake and get TWO CUPCAKES WITH WHIPPED CREAM AND SPRINKLES AS TOPPING. Happy New Year to my wonderful customers' was handwritten in blue on a white cardboard and pasted on a glass door. I had just entered a mute street and the placard welcomed me. Above the placard was a card that said 'OPEN'. I dashed towards it. The door was ajar. The squeaking sound must've been unavoidable, because I pushed the door as gently as I could, before walking in.
"Oh! Sorry" a man with a white chefly hat on his head said. He took large strides towards me then flipped the 'open' sign over. "That was an error. We're not open yet" he said. I rolled my eyes. "I'm hungry anyway"
There was a continuous L-shaped counter with various devices, remains of cake raw materials and finished cakes on it. The large oven was at the end of the shorter edge of the L, which was by my far right as I walked in.
"You'll have to come back by nine"
"Do you think I even know what time it is?"
I reached the portion that had cakes of about the same size but with different shapes and colours: red hearts, white and blue circles, green floral rectangles, etc.
"Girl, you have to leave" he said through his teeth. "Bro, this little girl is famished" I replied, saucily. I rubbed off some of the icing on the white cake with my index and sucked it off. The delicious vanilla flavoured cream melted on my tongue. "Hey!" The man screamed, dashing towards me. I hurried away then opened my bag swiftly to get Alex out. I pointed it at the man who was about to pounce on me and he froze with his hands up in the air. "So you're here to rob. Why did you walk in like you were innocent?" His breath was heavy as he spoke. Sudor escaped the pores on his fore head. I fastened my bag close with my left hand then supported my right with it.
"I told you I was hungry, but no, I have to wait till nine. Not like I even have the money to spend." I yelled in annoyance.
"Fine. Put the gun down. I'll prepare something nice for you to eat"
I cackled loudly. "I want cake!" I glared at him. There was silence for a moment, followed by a smug smirk creeping unto the man's face. I creased my eyebrows.
"Oh my!" He sighed, letting his hands down. "How could I have let a little girl with a toy scare me?" I bet his question was rhetorical since he whirled around and headed to the door. "Leave my shop" he ordered. He held the door open. I snickered then aimed at his leg, just below his knee. I'd recalled how the last person that dared to call my weapon of destruction a toy died with a bullet in her feet. "Oh c'mon girl. Enough with the jokes, okay?"
He wasn't supposed to complete his statement successfully, but he did. I had pulled the trigger before 'girl' left his lips, but there was neither a sound nor a bullet. He slapped his face and shook his head at the silly girl I had transformed into. I flared up. "Fuck you!" I swore, again, darting the gun to the ground. Alex, wherever he was, must've been disappointed...again. The man folded his arms and stared blankly at me. I couldn't leave after making a fool of myself. I looked around. There was a knife, I hadn't noticed, beside the white cake. I reached for it and pointed it at him.
"Are you crazy?" The look on his face changed with his question; his eyebrows wrinkled and his lips remained parted after the question left. His eyes were also widened. I replied with a half-smile.
"Didn't you...didn't you learn..." He stammered then gulped. "...didn't you learn not to play with sharp objects from school?"
This question must have been rhetorical as well; he couldn't have expected a psych eleven-year-old girl with a knife in her hand, ready to rip him in two, to answer that. He gulped again...and then again. Somehow, I could hear his heart thump. It was like music against my ear drums. He moved closer, slowly, with his hands thrusted before him as he did. "Put the knife down girlie" he sang awfully.
I eyed his body, wondering where to incise first. His shirt adhered to his body, glacially getting soaked in sweat. I placed my hands by my sides but with the tip of the knife in my right hand still pointing the man. When he was a few centimetres from where I stood, he cornered his eyes and brought them back, rapidly. I decided to cover the distance and rid him of time to get himself either armoured or equipped. He began reversing his steps the closer I got. From that point, every other thing happened swiftly. I dashed to the door to slam it shut; the man had no right to get away, as far as I was concerned. I received a cake-board slap and tottered. I successfully prevented an expensive fall. His action got me mad. I ran into him and pierced his side, along the anterior axillary line on his left side. He groaned aloud. I pulled the knife out; it was harder than the piercing. He faced the count, likely in search of a weapon. I didn't give him the time. I pounced on him and punch his shoulder, severally; some of the cuts were prevented from deepening by the bones of his shoulder girdle. His long-sleeved shirt used to be light blue in colour before it got soiled.
I dropped the dripping knife and hurried back to the cake counter. I dug into the red heart-shaped cake with my red hands then stuffed my mouth. The white no longer matched my small hands. The door squeaked. I whirled around. My victim was finding his bloody way out.