Tortured Souls

Chapter 1

"Where is he?!", I demanded from the demon.

"Why even bother? He's ours now. It's too bad really that boy will be one of us. And the funny thing is with enough torture he won't even need to be posessed. It'll be like our own little boy soldier. Able to do all things evil just on human emotion alone. And that is beautiful", the black eyed bitch smiled at me.

Realizing I wouldn't get any further with the demon, I decided to just finish him off as I began the excorcism.

I woke up to the sun streaming in through the dirty windows. Looking over at the clock, I saw that it was 6 am. A full two hours of sleep. That's almost double last night's amount. I picked the demon book that was still on my stomach and put it into my bag. It's funny, I used to get nightmares of demons after reading the book. But now I almost slept better knowing I was slowly learning everything I could about finding and sending them back to hell.

Recalling the dream I couldn't help but shake at the thought of the poor boy whom I had been looking for for weeks now being slowly tortured by thoseblack eyed bitches. All because some damn demon came into his house and slaughtered his family only sparing his life to use him as a soldier. An eight year old a soldier? The mere thought made me sick. I really needed to find this boy.

I got out of bed and put on my usual t shirt with jeans. I was getting splattered in blood and dirt so often that I started caringless and less about what I wore. As a hunter, wardrobe and how I looked was the last of my worries. I walked over to the bathroom sink and splashed by face with cold water. As I dried my face on a towel, I saw my reflection in the mirror. I was nothing too special, avergae height, wavy dirty brown hair, and dull green gray eyes. Not that I ever really cared how I looked, I was raised into the hunting life so I never got a chance to worry about petty things such as looks. Though if I did have one positive trait about me, it would have to be my muscular arms. Years and years of combattive fighting and constantly finding myself running paid off.

I decided if I was going to get any work done today, I needed to start where I left off. I grabbed my map and computer. Opening my map, I grabbed a marker and put an X on the last place I had been with the demon. It was my own personal way of keeping my hunt organized and efficient. If my parents taught me anything growing up it was that in order to be successful on 100% of your hunts, you had to stay organized. "Organized and efficient", was their motto. That and "Shoot first ask questions later". I still followed both of those rules.

My family was always such a ruthless group of hunters. Ever since my brothers death they never gave me a break. From the age of eleven and up I was practically forced to be nothing but perfect.

As I got onto my laptop to research any odd coincidences in the area that could possibly translate to demon, I felt my eyes droop. My head feeling heavy and my body beginning to go limp, I realized I forgot one of my most favorite things about being up so early.

I stood up grabbing my car keys and book on demons which was covered in duct tape so no one in public would ever grow suspicious about a woman my age reading a satanic book. Which was a good thing because I passed by the hotel manager who gave my book a questioning glare. Who was he to stare? He was the one wearing a painfully ugly hawiian shirt with a nametag that read 'Barney'.

I began to pull out of the motel parking lot, my stomach rumbling. Hopefully there was some type of diner in the area.

After about 5 minutes of driving I turned into a little cafe on the corner.

"Hello, how can I help you this morning?", I nice old lady in an apron asked.

"Hi, can I just get a stack of pancakes and as much bacon as you can possibly fit on the plate, also I'd like a coffee extra caffeine, thanks", the lady smiled and went to go get my coffee.