Sanctum

On breaking and entering

The demons walked down the hallways with purpose, avoiding searching eyes and suspicious nurses as they found their way down to solitary confinement. A hand laid on each door- suddenly sharper fingernails dragging across the metal- seemed to tell them whether or not Jason was in this room or that room.

A couple doors down, I figured out how they did it.

Jason’s demon would react to its original body.

“In here.” They muttered. Voices echoed down the hallway, and they looked up as Miss Hera turned the corner.

“Hey!” She screeched. “You’re not supposed to be-”

The lights flickered, and the demons disappeared into the room.

“Oh.” Hera muttered, upon finding no one there.

The thunder was only a distant boom in the sheltered room, padded walls and floor making it basically soundproof. Their eyes found Jason before he found us, locked up in the typical white straitjacket, huddled in the corner of the room.

Jason screamed when his eyes landed on me.

The demons flickered out of place, appearing behind him.

“Shh, little Jason, no need to be afraid.” They hissed, hands landing lightly on his shoulders.

Jason froze, locked up in his fear.

“It wasn’t your fault.” They whispered next to his ear, smiling widely. “Don’t worry, its just Jordan.” They assured him.

“You were there. In the hospital when I lost my sister.” Jason remembered, his voice flat. They nodded, the creepy smile staying.

“Not us,” they admitted, “But Jordan was there.” They giggled- a short burst of laughter that made Jason tense. I understood why, on some unfeeling level.

The giggle was a mixture of high pitched laughs from a multitude of children.

Creepy.

“Jordan, but not… You?” Jason asked, his frazzled mind putting the pieces together too slowly for the demons liking.

“Me.” They hissed in glee, the image of my body sort of glitching out of place and reappearing in front of Jason, crouched down in front of him. I heard him suck in a breath as my face was introduced into his vision suddenly, startling him.

The thunder crashed- a muffled noise inside of the padded room. Jason took in another breath, the old trauma still affecting him.

“So many children, so many memories,” they sighed, as if they missed their old selves.

“You’re Jordan’s demons.” Jason suddenly realized.

I could only imagine the look of terror in his haunted blue eyes.

A normal physical attribute the demons tend to evoke from me is pitch black irises. It’s not too concerning if you don’t know me too well, like most of the doctors. They- they being the demons- like to hurt people. Therefore, the sharper fingernails and teeth- if you didn’t catch that earlier.

Why do the demons like to hurt people?

Because they’re childish.

And I say this because I know.

I got every single one of them from a child. They take happiness in inflicting pain like the pain that’s been inflicted on them.

Along with the jet black tint of my eyes, the marks on my shoulders and collarbones tend to climb up my cheeks like plants reaching for the sun. Luckily I don’t end up with a face full of black markings- I get by with two or three scars slicing across my cheeks, disappearing at the beginning of my eyes.