Stranger

ch12

Devon is a freaking demon.

I still can't believe it! I have read about them, web surfed about them, but, as many of you, I had always left them in the realm of the fiction. I had debated that they may have existed before , since many wrote about them, but I was sure they were long gone. Nope, turns out they're not.

To say I was shocked was the biggest understatement of the century. No, of my life actually.

First, I had been confused, then I'd thought Devon was joking with me, then I thought he was pranking me, then I thought he was some criminal who had captured me, then I really started worrying about his mental health, but it all went flying out the window and burning in flames in a snap of a finger. Literally.

He had snapped his fingers and his palm had erupted in fire. Live, hot, burning fire. On his palm! And then he snapped his fingers again and then a cube of ice came next. I know, I still can't wrap my head around it!

All I had were questions. How was that possible? How did he do it? How did he control it? Was it painful? Was it hot or cold? How can he control it? How well did he control it? But the one that topped these all was the most important one. Was it all real?

I had truly thought that I had lost my mind. I thought I was far gone. Maybe the panic of hearing Roger's voice at the front door and the fear of his presence in my home had made me lose it for good.

Oh, yeah, Roger came to visit. No big deal. But, on that later because it faded in importance for now. Right now, Devon was the main occupation of my mind.

Like I was saying, I had been surprised. The level of it had been so high that I didn't leave my room for the whole weekend. My mom thought that I had slept through Roger's visit, so she assumed that my lack of interaction with them was due to some illness. Not just any illness, but a mental illness I had wanted to correct her, but I had come to the conclusion that it wasn't it.

People don't vanish into thin air and Devon did this exact thing. After bringing me back to my room -don't ask me how because I can't think about it anymore- he had just vanished and left. And by vanished I really mean vanished. Poof, into thin air. You would blink and miss it, that's how fast it was. All I caught was a hint of mist, like a blurry image the way you see when you stand up abruptly, and then he was gone.

I had stood frozen in the same spot looking ahead of me, waiting for what I have no idea, but I couldn't move. I was afraid something would jump on me or that something was going to happen. But after coming to terms that nothing was going on, I walked straight ahead and past the spot Devon had been and I didn't feel anything. I don't know what I expected to feel, but it wasn't there.

So now, five days later, I was successfully avoiding him at all costs. Say whatever you want, call me whatever you want, but I couldn't help it. I was afraid, damn it!

He had threatened me, warned me that he would kill me and at the time I had brushed it off as just some words, but now I wasn't being that foolish. Devon could in the literal sense kill me in a snap of his fingers. That was all it'd take for me to turn to ice or ashes, no in between, and this really terrified me. What if the next time I say something out of the line he snaps and decides to end my life. I wasn't taking that chance. That's the reason how I came to avoiding him.

Occasional meet ups were awkward as hell. I would wave at him when I'd see him in class because due to his schedule change, we shared a bunch more classes except for the whole Friday. I was also hiding at lunch, buying my food quickly then running to the library to eat it.

He was aware of this, he wasn't stupid not to see the obvious, after all, he notices things better and faster than anyone else, but he wasn't commenting on it. He'd acknowledge my waves with a nod, not approaching me to ask why I wasn't talking to him or sitting with him in the classes we shared, not asking why I had suddenly skipped spending lunch time with him, not anything. But, words weren't needed when his eyes portrayed his thoughts.