The Butterfly Effect (Rewritten)

Chapter Eleven - And Then There Were None

I haven't read the Bible, but I've heard of the Seven Deadly Sins: Pride, Greed, Lust, Envy, Gluttony, Anger, and Sloth. Divina warned me of the demons I'd be facing: Addiction, Anorexia, Anxiety, Bulimia, Depression, and PTSD. I knew how one or two of them came into my life - as for the others, I had no clue.

"There's more than seven mental illnesses," I discerned, "why only these?"

"You have a connection to each one. They will be the most likely to help you."

Everything about the psyche ward hadn't changed on the outside. However, there was a single difference I could make out. It was the color. It was as if the sun were being blocked out on a cloudy day. The surroundings had been sucked of luster. But the hospital's patients were the most terrifying aspect. On the inside... I saw them.

Each patient that passed me had a face that flickered like a TV screen with bad reception. In each flicker their skin blanched, their veins bulged black, and their eye sockets were void of eyes. They held shadows instead - the same feature as the other demon-slaves. A quiver crawled along my flesh when I realized what it had to mean. Their souls were undecided, victims but not yet claimed, and in the spirit world it was on display.

I kept moving despite my building fear. Twice I had asked myself since I left Divina's side, am I in over my head? I cast away the thought. It was too late to turn back, much too late. No matter what the end result was for me I could not look back. I'd lose my nerve if I did.

I found the first demon in a young girl's room. Her door had been wide open at the end of the hall on the right side of the dorms. She couldn't have been more than twelve, pacing back and forth in her room.

"Do you like it?" A sweet voice asked me. "I named it Anxiety's Dance. Fitting, no?"

A demonized version of the girl had snuck up behind me, severing the path between me and the door. I hadn't heard her move. Rather than the real girl's blonde hair, Anxiety's hair was a dry black in the same style, along with deep bags beneath black eyes. It occurred to me that maybe all demons did that - took the form of their victims, shedding one skin to the next.

"You're Anxiety," I confronted her.

Did demons even have a gender? I didn't think so, but it seemed fitting given its current form.

"A pleasure to meet you, Emory Mathison, though we've met before."

I thought of all those restless nights of nocturnal panic attacks, the inability to calm my breathing right before a presentation, how lightheaded I felt after, the overthinking, the over-analyzing, and the fear of being myself. I turned my head to see the real girl. She had resorted to biting her nails until they bled.

"At least I can finally put a face to the name. I came to make a deal."

Anxiety wagged a finger at me. "So quick to get to the point, why don't we stop and dissect the situation?"

As she carried on, the demon made slow circles around me. "You're on the run from my sister, Sue, which can only mean one thing: you killed yourself," she giggled, "and now you're asking me for something. What could a demon offer? By asking me for something, you run the risk of me turning you over to my sister. Why, I wonder. This deal of yours must be good for you to risk such a thing. And if you're asking for what I think you are, then my, oh my, you can't be working alone. Someone told you I had something to offer. But why would they go to such lengths for a human?"

I paused, considering her words. What does Divina get from this? I shook my head. It wasn't important at the moment. Anxiety was either trying to plant doubt or install fear. It's what a demon does. No more.