Drake

The Incubus

By: Ashley Hartwell

INTRO:

Have you ever seen something so horrifying that you couldn’t even move? Something that your mind couldn’t even comprehend and you’re left in a shock like state, knowing you’re in danger but not being able to do a thing about it? Well I did and I’ll never forget it.

Drake was my alter ego, not your average one, however. He had a past, a painful one at that. He was the demon god of pain in another world, my own specifically. I never knew exactly what went on inside his disturbed and demented mind, but there were parts of him I did understand occasionally.

One day he went ballistic, something deep in his gene pool was triggered and another side of him reviled. It scared me to the point where all I could do was stare and watch as the horror his actions took place. However, it wasn’t just the new found fear of my “friend” that frightened me, it was something else, something deep in the hollow of his pitch black eyes that took over my body and wrapped around my heart and lungs, freezing me in terror.

Chapter 1

The day stared off nicely this Saturday morning, though I prefer darker gloomy days as opposed to bright sunny and cheery ones. There wasn’t much to do today, just like all other weekends. Every Saturday I would physically wake but mentally I was still asleep watching television, the words that came from who ever or what ever on the screen went in one ear and out the other.

I would all ways wake before Drake, my kind hearted demonic alter ego. Never once have I been awakened to see his ebony eyes glaring at me, nor have I seen him up and walking around before ten o’clock. At the moment he was snoring beside me; I just stared at him, watching the raise and fall of his particularly loud breathing. I glared over at the clock to the right, it was eleven, extremely late for me, but I didn’t really care considering the late and crazy party we had gone to the pervious night.

A gentle nudge in the shoulder was enough to move Drake’s bulky arm off my waist and set me free of his weight. I sat on the edge of the bed, realizing I was still fully dressed with one shoe on and a missing sock on the other. “Hey,” came a voice from behind me. I jerked my head around to see Drake, awake, but the need of sleep still apparent under his eyes.

“Oh my god, Drake, what happen to your face?” I asked, noticing the four deep gashes on his left cheek, as if someone had slashed there claws at him. The wound was pitch black with demonic blood and had healed over with a crusty scab.

“What do you mean?” Drake answered, placing his left hand on his face. He quirked a brow and got up, heading over to the bathroom across the right side of the queen sized bed. I sat and watched with wonder as he stood, almost forgetting what was going on as I stared, transfixed to his muscular body, watching every movement as his muscles flexed beneath his soft white skin.

The bathroom light flickered on, Drake turned the corner and all I heard was the deep socked words from his mouth echo and flood into the bedroom. “Whoa, I don’t have a clue as to how that happened.”

“Well, a lot of stuff happened last night,” I chuckled; giving a clue to show that I remembered more than he did.

“Okay, what stupid crap did my drunk behind get into?” Drake asked, peering around the frame of the bathroom door as he pulled his pants up and buckled his belt, grinning, for he new I was about to tell him something interesting.

“Does the song ‘Touching You’ by The Darkness ring a bell?” I almost burst out laughing just thinking of how much of a fool Drake became when beer was involved.

“I didn’t.”

“Yeah, you did,” he started laughing too. “Up on the bar, fly down, boxers showing, using your own tail as a microphone,” I giggled. Drake covered his face with his hand in embarrassment.

“Let’s hope you’re the only one who remembers that,” he sighed.

“I don’t know, it was pretty funny, I don’t think anyone will be able to forget,” I said, still grinning as the image of Drake dancing like a girl kept replaying in my head.

“Well lets go find out, shale we?” he said, sitting back down on the edge of the bed to put his shoes on.

I found my sock and fixed my shirt that was half way off, tucking in the surprisingly still clean wife-beater. A quick run through my hair with the brush and Drake and I headed out to the bar, most likely meeting out friends there. The streets were quite this day, there wasn’t many people walking down the dirty, ghetto side walks as they usually would be on Saturdays. It was odd and the people I did see had paranoid looks on there faces, as if they were expecting something to jump out a tare there faces off.

As we descended upon the ‘Silver Bullet’ bar we noticed FBI cars and police cruisers parked out front, though no one was outside. I looked up a Drake, whose expression was as confused as my own. In side there was police tape being set around an area in the back of the bar, I tried to look at what the officers were guarding but there were too many people and I was to short.

Just as a police man walked by I stopped him with my hand. “Hey, what’s going on here?” I asked, quirking a concerned brow.

“There was a murder last night, no one saw what happened,” he explained, not looking too worried about the situation; that’s what was different about Xowi law enforcers, they’d tell you anything and let anyone observe the crime scene.

“Who was it, that was killed I mean,” Drake asked.

“We don’t know, the body is too damaged to tell,” the officer said.

“Really? Man, I gotta see this,” Drake said, being the lover of gore and anything that was dead, for some reason it struck excitement into him. He flew passed the police man and I, I tried to stop him but it was useless trying to pull a seven foot, three hundred pound, determined demon from what it wants.

“Drake, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I warned, stopping behind him as halted at the sight of the mutilated body. “Oh my god!” I almost shouted, immediately covering my nose and mouth to block out the gruesome smell of death; it was like a combination of old trash and vomit. The girl’s body or what was left of it, had no face, the skin had been literally torn off and disappeared some where. Her clothes where shredded and she lay naked on the bar’s dance floor.

“Whoa,” was all Drake could say, though I know he was thinking of how the combination of smells in the air was about to make him loose what ever he hadn’t already thrown up last night.

All I could do was stare at the dark red blood that formed a pool around the body and examine the markings the killer had left on the skin of her chest, arms and legs. And then something caught my eye. I stepped in for a closer look at the girl’s right hand; it was opened and covered in some kind of pitch black liquid.

“Drake, come look at this,” I said, still staring at the hand.

“What?” He bent down beside me and also stared, but as he thought of what he was looking at, I noticed him lift his hand to his cheek. Drake stood up and stormed out of the bar in a rush.