Daemonum

Chapter ONE

They're everywhere.

They're crawling over me like ants on an abandoned picnic, biting and scratching and clicking. Pale fingers pull at my clothes and catch in my hair, dragging me down; down into a misty abyss, where a great beast hisses and gurgles. Screaming – a high wail like the whistle of a train blasting from between my own lips. I'm reaching, stretching, trying to grasp at something that isn't there. I'm watching the light fade above as I'm pulled down, darkness closing in, swallowing me whole as the beast below roars, and--

Jess's locker door slams to my left and I nearly throw myself against the nearest wall in surprise. It makes me think of the soldier in the apartment below mine who suffers from P.T.S.D. He's nice enough, but I occasionally find him jumping away from grenades that aren't really there, or reminding me to watch out for landmines on my way to work every afternoon.

The echoing sound of a beast is still there, just behind the roar of blood in my ears, and I scrub a hand over my face. Jess doesn't seem to notice what's just happened, or at least she's kind enough to pretend she didn't.

"Didn't mean to wreck your train of thought," It's as close to an apology as I'll get from Jess. "You're awfully jumpy today,"

Jess watches me with pecan colored eyes eyes as she finishes buttoning her work shirt and shoves it forcefully into her pants, efficiently – messily – tucking the button-up in. She ties her apron easily around her waist and leans into the mirror on the opposite wall, attention torn between the pins she's carefully fastening in her long dark hair and me.

I open my mouth, then close it. I repeat the action twice before Jess seems to realize that I can't find the right words, and he expression turns pitying in the mirror.

"Was it the accident again?" Jess lowers her voice like she's speaking to a caged animal, and I nod for lack of a better response. I know I'm lying to her face, but letting her build her own lies is better than trying to explain the truth about the mad-house living in my head. She has three pins in her hair now as she turns to face me; blue butterflies at the end of each pin are bright and cheerful against the dark waves of her hair.

"I thought the medicine was helping with the flashbacks," Jess tries and I shrug. Medications were useless, even when I did take them. Antidepressants made me moody, antipsychotics made me, well... Psychotic. About the only thing I took daily now was a multivitamin-- but the rest of the world didn't think so.

"It'll get better, Em, just you wait and see. The medicine will start working, and your new therapist will be perfect. I promise," Jess, ever the optimist, lurches forward and throws her thin arms around my neck. I awkwardly pat her back with one stiff hand, knowing she won't release me until her act of sentiment is returned.

When she finally steps away, I feel a little better about things despite myself.

Jess bounces away with a comment about being late for the start of our shift, but I linger awhile in the locker room, watching my reflection in a mirror hanging against the back wall. A pale creature stares back, tall and willowy in a way girls shouldn't be; my breasts are too small, my hips too narrow to compliment my broad shoulders, and my mid-length hair cut makes my jaw look square. My eyes are blue, my hair is brown. In short, there's not a single thing about me that is anything but utterly average.

A skeleton flickers into view where I am studying my reflection, hollow eyes and closed teeth covering the plain features of my face; it's wearing my uniform, bony hands limp at its sides. We examine each other like old foes, scanning from head to toe in search of something unknown.

Outside the locker room, Jess calls me.

I close my eyes, hold my breath and count to ten. I can still hear a beast roaring somewhere behind my ears.