Destined Demons

Chapte Fifty-Four | The Plan - Part Two

ALAINA'S POV

I stare at the closed bedroom door, my entire body frozen as my name is shouted again. Booming footsteps come down the hall and my door is busted open, causing my eyes to grow even wider. I jerk in place, my gaze meeting my very alive father.

And I'm terrified.

His bloodshot eyes stare straight through me and for a moment I feel like throwing up. "I don't like being ignored," he seethes and my bottom lip begins to quiver.

"I..I..." I stutter repeatedly as I try to figure out what to say. His head tilts to the side and his eyes narrow mockingly.

""I, I, I," speak, girl!" He shouts at me and I jerk again, my burning eyes releasing a tear.

I don't say anything, I only stare at him in utter shock. It's the only way I've ever looked at him, besides in anger.

I'm so confused by this man. He died, in front of me. How is he here now?

"I said speak, dammit!" His voice echoes around the room and I take a step back.

"You're dead," I whisper so quietly I'm not sure if even I heard my words correctly. His face remains cold just like stone and I shiver.

"Do I look dead?" He asks, his tone calmer. "I can assure you that I am not."

"I saw you...die," I utter. "De..De Umbra killed you-I saw it."

His eyes narrow at me and he takes a step into my room. "Alaina..." He growls my name viciously and at that exact moment I realize something.

This isn't real.

My eyes falter as I stare at him doubtfully and he takes another step towards me. "You're not real," I mumble and my gaze falls to the floor.

A couple of seconds pass before I see his boots right in front of me and I feel something come down on the side of my head before my body hits the floor. My head hits the hardwood and bounces back up, causing me to groan loudly. I roll over onto my back as my blurred vision focuses on my father hovering over me.

"Believe this, little one," his voice echoes throughout my room, "I'm very real."

He jerks me up by my arm, causing my head to bobble back and forth, and he lifts me up into his arms, bridal style. My head throbs as he carries me down the hallway and I try to push out of his chest.

Okay, he feels pretty real...So maybe this isn't a dream?

"Let go of me," I demand, something I've never done. He drops me down on the couch and I hear it creak underneath my weight. I look up at him with wide eyes and watch as he sits down on the coffee table across from me, putting all of his weight on his elbows as he leans on his knees.

My eyes scan over his face and then to his neck and chest. There is no evident wounds on him, not like that night when he died. What the hell is happening.

"You were dead," I say aloud. "I just don't know how you're—"

He interrupts me by slapping me across the face again, and my head swings to the side. My skin burns from the impact and I feel tears prick at my eyes, but I'd rather die than let this man see me cry.

I slowly turn my head in his direction, my nostrils flaring and my breathing uneven. He doesn't seem fazed by what he had just done, and I would never expect him to be. He may have been dead but that doesn't mean he would've changed.

But I have.

I've changed.

"You used to think I was some helpless little girl, didn't you?" I whisper and he stares straight through me as if I'm not even here.