Demons Don't Feel Love

Chapter three: The Rising of Legion

I pushed through my sadness as we returned upstairs to my bedroom. Fuck love, it didn't matter anyway. A steady ticking filled the room. It sounded distorted, and eerie. The clock read 6:59, and I could feel a cold sweat forming along the palms of my hands. I reached for Daren, drawing closer to his side. He put his arm around me and said

"This is it, then. Let's see if this fucker really wants to play." What happened next was beyond any sort of logic. the mirror above my dresser began to make a strange creaking sound, as if it were straining to hold itself together. A small crack formed in the top right corner. Each snap made me flinch, as the crack widened and spread. Suddenly, with one last painful splinter, the glass shattered. I watched in horror as blood formed along the wall, spelling the words

R.I.P Annabelle
August 7th, 2000

Shock filled my body, leaving me speechless. Whatever this was, it was on some next level paranormal activity shit. There was no way I was imagining this! Daren seemed all too calm, as if he was somehow playing into this thing.

"Oh no you don't, she's mine, you can't have her!" Daren screamed, standing in front of me. Then I heard this voice, a voice that belonged in hell.

"And what am I supposed to care? You won't last long here, you stupid boy." Daren grabbed the knife from the dresser. He looked at me and said,

"This is impossible." His voice sounded something between confused and frustrated.

"Daren, what are you talking about?" I pleaded, backing into a corner of the room.

"Kill her!" The voice yelled. Daren put the knife down and walked towards me. I hid my face and cried as he sat beside me; He held me tight in his arms.

"It's okay. You're gonna be okay." He whispered. I felt something cold against my neck. "It will only hurt for a second..." This was it. This was my story. An obsessed stalker played upon my feelings and I let him in, victimized by my own trauma. His comfort and the way he cared for me was so obvious, too good to have ever been true. This story is for all my fellow ladies out there, should this story be told. This was my lesson about going with the flow, one that I would never forget.

"Daren..." I whimpered. "Please!" He dropped the knife to the ground. Tapping into a subconscious reserve of bravery, I grabbed it, and held it to his throat.

"kill me; but I must confess something." He stammered against the blade, as I threatened to claim his life.

"What?" I demanded. He began to laugh.

"I am..." He whispered and grabbed the blade of the knife. "Mother. fucking. legion!" Those words sounded in my ears, both voices at once, making me realize that I was in something far deeper than just being stalked or attacked. With a quick motion he snapped the blade in half, cutting his hand in the process. He never batted an eye at the wound, as if he couldn't feel it at all. I backed away from him slowly, my bravery lost, as if it had been stabbed instead of Daren's hand. He pulled a shiny, silver blade from his pocket.

"I can't hurt you..." He said, once again a hybrid of confusion and frustration in his voice. "You can keep your distance, but please hear my story." I curled up in the corner farthest from him. "After this, I shall take my own life." He said.

"I picked you out at the park, I knew that you would the perfect victim." He explained.

I looked at him in fear, as well as shock. "What are you..." I whispered.

"I know dear, you thought I loved you. It was only a kiss, it meant nothing." He stated with a wide grin. I cried, backing further away from him.

"Don't cry." He pleaded, his smile suddenly vanishing. "We demons don't feel love, it's not that I don't want to love you, it's that I'm incapable of loving." He said. "For whatever that sentiment is worth to you, mortal."