The rest of my life for the next couple of years was a blur. The demon that was trapped within me was dormant most of the time, but when it came out, I was helpless. It controlled me completely. It saw through my eyes, spoke through my mouth, and did its evil through my hands. It was like I had been divided into two, the demon me vs. the real me. The people that I killed in those years, the people that I tortured and burned, still haunt me in my dreams even now. All I could do then was watch helplessly, loathing myself with every cell in my body. How many times I fought against myself, trying to escape. But it was meaningless.
I remember the first death clearly, as if it's imprinted in my mind. It happened on the same night. That first night.
I watched in horror as my feet began leading me back out of the forest and towards my foster parent's house. I tried to cling onto trees and branches as I passed by them but it was like my feet had suddenly developed a mind of their own. By the time I had reached the front door, I had lost complete control. I snapped my fingers and the door -somehow- unlocked and swung open.
The house was littered with empty beer bottles, underwear and God knows what other junk. My "dad" peered blearily up from the TV screen, cradling a bottle of America's Finest, his eyes bloodshot. "You back, huh?" he sneered. "How long did you think you'd last, huh, punk?" His words were slurred, and with his hands outstretched, he teetered towards me. "Come 'ere bitch."
I couldn't move.
His hands enclosed around my neck, squeezing tightly. "Take that, you *@!"
And that's when I first noticed that something was very very wrong indeed.
Although I could feel my foster dad's fingers around my neck, he wasn't hurting me, if that makes any sense.
My mouth opened and I felt my lips move as a voice like knife on metal screeched through them," You really shouldn't have done that."
My "dad" looked astonished for a second, and then began to laugh, his piggy hands clenching my neck even harder. His head was thrown back and his shoulders were shaking. His yellow teeth danced in my view. I felt a surge of anger.
And then suddenly, out of nowhere, my hand shot up, and I had slapped him hard across the face.
He stopped laughing then, and touched both of his hands to his cheek. Blood trickled beneath his fingers.
I felt a surge of satisfaction, before I mentally shook myself, what was wrong with me? This was wrong.
"You...You..." His voice changed from shock to fury, "@$!% YOU!
Still tipsy, he tried to punch me. With a sudden strength that I hadn't known I had, I caught his fist. His expression changed then, just for a moment, before hardening again. He tried to wrench his hand away but it wouldn't budge. His eyes flicked from his hand to my face and then suddenly he staggered back, his face twisted in pure terror.
"Your eyes," he shrieked," Your eyes!"
I didn't have time to wonder about what the hell he was talking about because at that moment, my "dad" howled and I looked down to see that in the time of about a few seconds, I had somehow managed to twist my foster-dad's arm behind his back. I tried to pull my hand away, but I couldn't move it.
Was this what arthritis felt like?
SNAP!
But my hands were moving, how else did I just manage to break my foster-dad's arm?
He fell to his knees, whimpering, "Please...I'm sorry. I'll never..."He shuddered with broken sobs," I'm sorry, please...please, have mercy..."
"Have mercy on you, you little swine," the voice spoke through me again, "Ah, but your pleas are amusing. Alas, today I am hungry."
I felt my face break into a malicious sneer as I screamed inside. I tried to fight but I couldn't break through. It was like a layer of fog had descended over my mind. I couldn't even close my eyes as I had to watch myself bring my foot down on my foster-dad's neck. I had to watch as his face turned purple. As he tried desperately to pull my foot away. As his last choked breath escaped from his now blue lips.
And then the hand thudded to the floor, and he didn't move again.
I felt an evil savage triumph burn in the corner of my mind as the demon rejoiced in its sick victory, staring down at its prey.
Then it drew its gaze upwards.
Directly in front of it, me was a mirror. I felt my blood freeze as I saw myself, it smile a gruesome grin, my normally purple eyes, a bright liquid gold.
And then it, I brought my head down on my foster dad's neck and began drinking.
