Haunted Hearts

Chapter 10

Same brown eyes, same thin mouth. His stern and weathered face, marked by the lines and wrinkles of a life filled with unaccomplished responsibilities. His features were rugged, with a square jawline and high cheekbones. His hair, dark and thick, worn at a moderate length, disheveled over his shoulders. He was even wearing the same white shirt and denim pants from his last day alive. My body took one breath and couldn't manage to take another one. It was my father. How was this even possible...

"It's Ronald! Open the door, Sebastian!" The landlord called from the other side of the door.

My heart shattered when my father made eye contact with me, and as a devilish grin appeared on his lips, I knew it wasn't him.
He opened the door and Ronald was there with his cellphone on his ear, probably trying to call the authorities. Quickly, he hang up as his eyes drifted past the figure of my father into the house.

"My God," Ronald uttered, his voice a whisper in the darkness, as he stepped into the shadows of the house. "You've— transformed this place, Sebastian."

"Indeed," My father's voice, dripping with authority, echoed through the room, but it wasn't his own—it was the sinister melody of the demon that now wore his guise, "this place was disgusting," he purred, a smirk playing upon his lips.

My heart hammered in my chest. "Disgusting? I give you a place to live and you call it disgusting?" Ronald spat, his anger palpable.

"Enough theatrics, Ronald," my father—the demon—chimed in with superiority, as if Ronald were a mere inconsequential speck in his grand design. "Name your price."

"It's not up for sale." He replied dismissing him, going back to the door, "and I suggest you start looking for another place to stay."

What?!
No. No. No.
My heart sank all the way to my stomach as my eyes filled with tears. I was going to be homeless after all.

Once Ronald reached the doorknob, my father, or rather the demon wearing his skin, stopped him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Ronald," he murmured. And as my landlord turned to face him, I noticed his eyes were... not brown anymore. "This house is now property of Morgan Brando, is that clear?" his voice turned to something out of this world. Even Ronald's body started trembled in response. My mouth instantly dropped at the sound of my full name on his lips. How did he know?

Ronald, entranced by some unseen force, nodded robotically. "Yes," he murmured, his words hollow and devoid of will.

"Excellent, send the paperwork when you're ready," my father intoned, his form cloaked in shadow as he dismissed the landlord, his gaze piercing through the veil of reality. "Begone."

And like a puppet cut from its strings, Ronald shuffled out into the sunlight. His thoughts, his brain were still being influenced with. This demon, with its sinister powers of manipulation, could easily ensnare me in its web of deceit. A lump formed in my throat, choking off my breath. Maybe he played with my mind just now to capture my soul. The thought alone made me shiver, and I knew I needed to find a loophole to this damned bargain. But I couldn't think about this, not right now.

Because despite standing in the presence of the most terrifying entity I could imagine, my gaze remained fixed upon my father—the male figure who had forsaken us, who had failed in his duty to protect. The very same creature who, even in death, continued to plague me with his influence, leaving me tangled by the neck in this predicament. If only I could move, if only I could break free from this paralyzing grip and confront him for his betrayal.
I would smack his face.
Punch him with all my force.
Cry in his face.
Spit on his shoes.
But I couldn't, my body remained unresponsive, spread on the couch in the same position the demon had left me in.