Deliver Me To Evil

Bed Sweet Bed

I woke up hours later from medicine induced nightmares, soaked in sweat, still trembling in fear, tears streaming down my face. I sit up slowly and find the little trash bin my mom put next to my bed and vomit in it. Turns out, I have a stomach bug. Somehow the little... event I'd witnessed earlier just triggered the first of many, many bile expulsions. 
"Sleep well?" I yelp and jump about a foot off my bed, facing the darkened corner, where a male's silhouette graced the chair I put my dirty laundry on when I'm lazy. I don't recognize the voice.
"Who are you? What are you doing here," I ask.
"Don't you recognize me?" The silhouette stood and slowly walked to my bedside. "Don't you know your own daddy?"
My father's features suddenly came to form in the dim light coming from my window.
"Dad? What are you doing in here... " I trailed off. As my eyes adjust to the dark, I see my dad's mouth smiled, but his eyes said something entirely different. Fear suddenly twisted my stomach.
"Who are you, " I whisper, my voice trembling.
His smile growing more sinister, he sits down on the edge of my bed and I scoot away from him.
"And I was under the impression that you were a dumb girl. I'm glad you aren't, we can't have an idiot girl ruling, now can we? No, I am not your "Daddy". You and your insolent brother saw through the facade almost immediately." I stare at my dad's face as he explains that he is not, in fact, my dad, confusion swirling my brain.
"So, " He went on, "my name is Malachy. I hail from... Well, Hell."
He paused.
"Excuse me?" I laugh, my sarcasm breaking through my fear and confusion. This had to be some kind of an elaborate joke, right? Annoyed, my dad stands and turns slowly, his arms outstretched, modeling.  

  "Keep up, child. Thiiisss, " He gestured to his body,  "is not your father, Billitrix Knight. Think about it, I know things your father doesn't, I don't act like him, I don't talk or walk or eat like him. I'm NOT him. Well, okay, yes, technically I am but, I'm not." He stares back at me for a moment. Exasperated, he sighs, "would you like me to SHOW you? "
Suspicious, but vaguely curious, I nod my head, and then really wished I hadn't.
  My dad's face seems to melt off the bones. In fact, all of his skin did this, and within seconds, my dad's skin flopped to the floor, leaving me looking wide eyed at a bare skeleton. Paralyzed with terror, I watched as the skeleton grew and shrank in certain areas, molding and forming an entirely new body. A couple of seconds later, a new, naked man was standing in front of me, with the same chillingly sinister smile, but with a new mouth. New tears streaming down my cheeks, mouth agape, I glance over the man before me and look down at the mess of flesh and clothes on the floor, bile rising in my throat. The room began to spin and grew darker than before, then I felt my head hit the wall behind me, and then nothing. 

  The sunlight streaming through my window told me it was morning. I cover my eyes with my inner elbow to block out the light. As I struggle to keep the vomit down and reach for the newly empty bin by my bed, I try to remember my dreams from last night. I remember bits and pieces of a few nightmares, but there was something else... Something I can't quite put my figurative finger on...

  And then, at the exact same moment I beat the threatening bile, I remember. My dad, his melting skin, the naked man, his creepy, sharp-toothed grin... Except I don't think it was a dream, after all... The next moment, I fill half of the bin. 

A soft tapping comes from outside my bedroom door, and my mom pokes her head in, her long straight hair in a half-assed bun. "Hey, baby, how ya feeling?" She asks in a sympathetic voice. I look at her under my eyelashes, my face still mostly in the bin. She sits next to me and strokes my hair. "I'm sorry you feel so crappy, hon..." She takes the bin from me and ties the bag with an impressively straight face. 

  "How do you do that?" I ask her, gesturing to the bag o' bile. She laughs, "Years of practice, baby, AND I'm a nurse, so, I see a lot of puke." She sets the bin down and wipes my sweaty face with a warm, moist washcloth. I grab her hand and her eyes meet mine.