You were a small child, weak, broken, and bruised at the age of seven. Your parents abused you every night for as long as you could remember. They treated you like their slave. They didn't provide you with anything but a long worn out shirt that went down to your knees.
You sat in your bedroom, which was basically a closet with a worn out blanket and a small pillow, burning holes into the locked door with your emotionless stare. You were curled into a small ball, the room not having enough space to stretch your legs.
You were finally done with the way your parents treated you. Your bony fingers wrapped around the handle of the ritual knife you took from the library earlier that day. You didn't know why it was there, but it was still as effective as a knife from the kitchen. You picked the lock with a hair pin you stole from your mother's jewelry box. It was time to set up.
The door clicked open. You silently made your way to the side of your parent's bed. The ritual knife was in the study room along with a bowl, two chairs, and duck tape. You had two pieces of cloth in your hand, both soaked in chloroform.
You hopped onto your parent's bed, quickly covering their mouths and noses with the cloth. You saw their eyes shoot open, filled with fear. They grasped at your hand, trying to peel it off. You almost let out a chuckle as their muffled screams reached your ears, but you forced it down, digging your sharp nails into the side of their cheeks until blood bubbled to the surface.
Their movements grew weaker and their limbs became jelly. A hint of amusement sparkled in your eyes as they stopped moving. You slowly slipped the cloth off of their faces wiping the blood on your shirt. Now, you had to drag them to the study.
You were panting when you finished taping your parents to the chairs. You set the bowl and ritual knife on a table, waiting until they woke up. You wanted them to feel agonizing pain before they die.
In the time you had left, you reviewed the steps of summoning a demon portal in a book you saw your mom read all the time. You heard a small noise behind you.
You turned around and saw your mother struggling against the tape. She looked at you, eyes filled with anger. You weren't afraid. She gave that look so often that you started to ignore it.
"What's the meaning of this?!" She yelled. Her face was red and spit flew out of her mouth as she spoke.
You stared at her, refusing to answer. You picked up the bowl with the ritual knife placed inside and set it on the floor.
Your mother's eyes widened at the sight of the knife. She called for your father to wake up, but he didn't move. You shrugged. Maybe it'll be more exciting to hear both of them scream instead of just one at a time.
You walked over to your father's side. You tapped his shoulder,"Wake up father..." You said quietly.
He stirred in his sleep a little, mumbling quietly, but he didn't wake up. You frowned. You grabbed the ritual knife from the bowl and held it at one of his fingers.
"No! You monster!" She screamed.
"Is that what you think?" You asked.
You set the ritual knife in your father's lap, pulling up your sleeves to show the scars from the abuse. Her eyes widened in realization. Tears welled up in her eyes, anger replaced with sadness.
"I'm not the monster..." You spoke, then turning back to your father.
You picked the ritual knife back up and held your father's pinkie out like meat on a chopping block. You dug the tip of the blade above the knuckle. You put a bit of pressure behind it, watching the sharp point disappear into his flesh. Blood welled up from the cut and rushed down the sides of his pinkie, staining the wood.
Your father's eyes shot open. A scream erupted from his throat, echoing through the study. You drew the knife back, seeing your father awake. Once he took a look at his surroundings and figured out what was going on he eyed you with a glare.
He growled at you, struggling against the bonds holding him to the chair. The chair shook and jerked with his movements, but you didn't flinch. Now, both of them were awake. It was time to get down to business.
You picked up the bowl and walked over to your mother. She trembled in fear, seeing your eyes had no emotion. You ignored your father's angry demands to stay away as you held the blade to her neck.
"You demon child...." She said, voice quivering.
You smirked," I suppose you're right."
You then quickly slit her throat, blood spraying all over you. She tried to scream, but it came out in chokes and gurgles. When the blood turned into a constant red stream, you held the bowl just below her throat.
The blood filled the bowl quickly. You set it down next to the leg of her chair and watched her die, with amusement and relief in your eyes.
Once she stopped twitching, you picked up a big paint brush from the dark wooden table and dipped it in the blood. You drew a big circle in the clear space. You walked back to the bowl when your brush went dry.
You drew a star in the middle, all points touching the circle. It was a pentagram, the book explained. Next, you needed the body of a dead male.
You walked over to your father. The anger in his eyes drained and was replaced with fear just like your mother's. You decided to make your father's death quick.
You jammed the knife in between his ribs. You watched the life drain out of his eyes. His blood landed on your clothes in thick red drops as he coughed up the crimson liquid.
You sliced open the bonds and wrapped his limp arms around you shoulders. You hauled him onto your back, grunting with effort. With shaky legs, you dragged him to the center of the pentagram.
You dropped the body in the center, landing with a thud. You watches the blood pool around his lifeless body. You read more from the passage in the book.
'Place five items that were most dearest to them on each of the points of the star.'
You took out a necklace. It had a sold chain with a red pigment as the jewel in the center. It was beautiful. Your mother wore it all the time. You didn't know who gave it to her because she would slap you if you spoke out of turn.
You set the necklace down on the bloody point of the star. It glowed brightly with a red light.
You placed your mother's wedding ring down next. This time, it glowed blue. Your father's gold watch was next. It glowed with a warm yellow light. You set a wedding ring your father treasured dearly down last.
The pentagram glowed white. Your father's body was engulfed in blue flames. His body burned into ashes and were absorbed by the demonic pentagram.
A portal of some sort appeared where your father's body was. A beam of blue light shot up to the ceiling. You walked closer to the light and jumped in.
