"Is that a bandage?!"
Father stares at me, his eyebrows arched. His mouth is open, showcasing shimmering fangs.
I roll my eyes. "Obviously."
"Are you kidding? You are my son! You don't wear bandages!"
His voice screeches.
"Hate to break it to you, but I broke my arm. Pop-I had to set it."
Father seethed. "You are not wearing a bandage."
He leaped off his throne and grabbed the bandage roughly. He mutters under his breath, his hand glowing black.
I hear a crack and a searing pain jolts up my arm.
I grit my teeth, closing my eyes tight.
Father lets go of my arm and steps back, pulling at the bandage. "Won't be needing this." Then he mutters," What kind of son of Satan needs a damn bandage?"
Grandson, you mean.
I twist my arm, turning it around. Nothing cracks or cringes. It's like it never broke.
"This is where you say thank you."
Father looks down on me from his throne.
I snort. "Like you raised me to say thank you."
Father doesn't smile, his dark eyes glimmering.
"You overstepped your boundaries."
I run a finger around my arm. "What?"
Father leaps forward, kicking his leg out. His foot slams into my sternum, knocking the air out of me and crashing me into the wall.
He stands over me, cracking his growing knuckles.
"You and that mortal man. You both were drinking alcohol. You were talking about me."
"Like you don't complain about me."
Father lunges, gripping a hand around my neck.
He lifts me up, his body transforming.
I gasp for air and he smirks, squeezing tighter.
"That's not the point. I am Lucifer. And no on, no one, talks bad about Lucifer."
He slams me down onto the ground, sending shock waves of pain through my spine.
Tears well up in my throat and I choke them down. My head pangs with agony.
Father spits at my fallen figure. "I am the chosen wretched and divine, and you are scum. Remember that."
He spins and walks back to his throne.
He turns and looks back at me, fangs glittering behind an ugly smile.
"That girl, Ashley, she has power. Power that we crave.Power of sorrow, hope, all that good stuff. And if you want to come home, you need it." He pauses then hisses," Get it."
YOU ARE READING
Fallen (editing)
FantasyFather was lounging in his chair, his legs up against the armrest. He smirked at me as I come in. "Did you like my present?" I glower. "Oh yes. Very thoughtful of you. Sending an assassin to kill your son." Father laughs. "You should've been more ca...
