Craig of the Dead

35. Ten Minutes

"This is bad." Craig muttered.

"Ya think?" I grumbled, jumping up onto the countertop, sitting next to the sink. My ankle hurt like hell. It was maybe the worst pain I had ever experienced. Honestly, I dunno how regular mortals could live their lives like this every day.

Before, it used to be more spread out. If my ankle hurt, then the pain would be equally divided among all of my body so that it only lasted a little bit and it wasn't very intense. Now, my ankle was seemingly throbbing and bleeding more as time went on. It just kept on hurting, the concentrated spikes of pain shooting up my left leg.

"You should probably run water ove--"

"Yeah, I know! Why'd ya think I climbed right next to the sink?" Stan bit his lip, never taking his eyes off my ankle. I didn't blame him. The sight of my own blood was almost enough to make me vomit. I mean, sure, I had blood before. But...not like this. It didn't just spill into the world uncontrollably as soon as something broke my skin. I thought skin was supposed to protect you! This was pathetic.

I threw my leg over the side of the sink, turned on the facet, and immediately regretted my decision.

"AHHH! WHAT THE FUCK? WATER'S SUPPOSED TO MAKE IT BETTER!" Whoever first recommended running water over a wound had clearly never been wounded before. There was no 'cool relief', there was just stinging now along with the pain.

"This is so cool." A kid in the back mumbled, staring with fasciation at my ineptness. I snapped my head in his direction, trying to find the little twerp who had spoken.

"What's so cool?" I asked, narrowing my eyes at him while simultaneously trying to keep my voice from shaking as the cool water stung my wound.

"No! Not that you're in pain....that's not cool....what I mean was..." The kid stammered.

"You gotta be patient with him. You see, Scott has diabetes." Butters told me.

"My diabetes has nothing to do with my stutter." Scott glared at Butters. "Damien, I just meant that you've always fascinated me and--"

"Always fascinated you? What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Wendy asked ludicrously. One glance at her and I had already figured her out. She was trying to dominate the room, to be the leading voice of the kids, but Craig trumped her easily. Just by slouching against the wall, staring at me with unwavering eyes, I could tell he could command the entire school if he wanted to.

Didn't mean I was gonna listen to him, though.

"Aw, come on! You guys can't look at me and say that it isn't a little cool to get to see a real life demon up close. Like, from the Underworld, actual son of Satan. A real life demon in person."

"Well, mostly demon." I corrected. "I've got more humanoid qualities when I'm in the upper world.

"Actually, none demon." Craig pointed out, staring at me with his trademark nonchalant expression. Still, behind his mask, I could definitely see fear. No, not fear, guilt.

Still, this little fuck was rubbing me the wrong way.

"Listen here you bastard, I wouldn't be here if someone in this place had any sense whatsoever."

"What's he talking about?" Butters asked. What am I talking about? What am I talking about?

"Huh, mayb— WHY DIDN'T ANYONE TELL ME ABOUT DAD?"

"Oh... that. Damien, we thought you knew already."

"So my dad's gone. I can deal with that. I never really liked the guy that much anyway, he was a prick. But he's the King of the Underworld, of fricking Hell. You know what happens to organized chaos when it's ruler just disappears and his son doesn't hear about it from anyone? I'll tell you what happens. A bitch takes the crown and the powers along with it, leaving me screwing around up here not knowing that my domain is being taken over by a power hungry Fury." I growled, staring down every last person in the room until everyone's eyes had drifted to the floor in shame. Good. Who doesn't tell someone that their dad 'died'? They just assumed I knew somehow?