Demon Cleaner / Eltorey

FIVE

Six days.

Six whole days had passed without Elton doing anything to freak Corey out.
But honestly, he hadn't really done anything but sit in his room silently.

He never showered, the smell of sweat that followed him made it obvious.
It was almost two weeks out from his possession, Corey wasn't sure how much Elton was eating, but it clearly wasn't enough. His skin was grey and his shirts looked bigger on him everyday. Corey tried to take him out for food, but he refused, just scurrying away to his room. The hair on Elton's head and face was wild, unkempt and dirty.

Corey had taken up the bulk of household chores. In between making sure Elton hadn't turned to a corpse, Corey was cleaning up around the house, doing their laundry, feeding and walking the dogs, along with trying to keep up with the multitude of appliances that had started malfunctioning around the house.

It was bad. Corey tried bringing people around the house to liven Elton up, but nothing worked. He was barely even talking to his own mother when she called.

Corey was going crazy.

"Elton," he pounded on the mans door that night after finishing his own dinner, "there's food out here and I want you to try some."

"I don't want any," the older mumbled from his room. Corey grunted, and pushed the door open. He stared around the room.
There wasn't a single light on, and Elton was sitting on his bed, staring out the window. He didn't even move as Corey walked in.

"What's going on?" Corey asked, slowly approaching the bed.

Elton just shrugged.

"Well, can you please come out and eat some dinner?" Corey asked softly, "and shower or something? You smell like shit, and I'm kind of worried about you."

"I'm not hungry," Elton's responses were tense and curt. Corey took another step forward and sighed, reaching out to touch the mans shoulder.

"Don't touch me," the older growled, without even being able to see behind him.
Corey froze, pulling his hand back and covering his mouth. He took another look around the dark room, allowed his eyes to focus.

Objects and boxes were spilling out of Elton's closet, old Ouija boards and broken crosses, surrounded by small candles and pages covered in Elton's scribbling. Corey felt his heart sink, unsure if he was more terrified or betrayed by the sight.

"Elton," Corey whispered, "have you kept fucking around with paranormal shit?"

Still staring out his window, Elton let out a small chuckle. He played with his fingers on his lap.

"I thought I told you to drop it," Corey raised his voice, "it's fucking you up, can't you tell? How are we supposed to get you better if you won't listen to anybody?"

Elton laughed as Corey's voice trailed off, shaking his head. It was a strange laugh, almost robotic. Elton's throat gurgled before he turned to stare at Corey.

"You really fucking thought I'd sit back and let him be in control for a week?"

Corey shook his head, furrowing his eyebrows as Elton stared up at him. His eyes were different again, but in a way Corey had never seen.
They looked pitch black, as if they had been hollowed right out of Elton's head, and his voice was barely recognizable.

"You two are fucking pathetic."

Corey gulped, suddenly unable to speak, feeling as if hands were closing around his neck. He felt his blood run cold and he realized his worst nightmare had been confirmed right in front of him.

Elton was possessed. Fully, demonically, possessed.