The Demons Inside

Chapter One

Disclaimer: This is mine. All of it. So no takey. Thank you, come again.

Note: This is one of few times you'll see me write in 1st person. But I had this story play in my head while I was right between awake mode and slipping into sleep. And I remembered it all. Twist was I was the girl in the dream. So this is being written as so. R and R, please!


I knew it wasn't me who had control over my body. Definitely not me. That kinda doesn't make sense, but I knew it. And no, I wasn't sleep walking. You don't sleep walk when you're fully conscious. You're asleep when you sleep walk... hence * sleep walk*. But yeah, I knew I had no control over my physical movements. I, for one, wasn't stupid enough to be walking around Chicago at midnight... alone... when the gangs came out and the gunshots were fired. I had lived in Chicago long enough to know that people, male or female, shouldn't walk the streets past 11 unless you were in a gang and had "amnesty", for lack of a better word.... or you had a gun to protect you from whatever ghouls went bump... or bang... in the night. Let alone walking by yourself. And I was a little 17 year-old... a 17 year old girl in her pajamas. Warning bells were going off inside my head, but I couldn't stop myself from walking. As I said, I had no control over my body.

I don't think I'd ever been more petrified in my life.

I vaguely recognized the street I was walking on and desperately wanted to turn back. This was not a place I wanted to be... at all... ever... at night. Much too near to the projects for my liking. Call me someone who stereotypes or is a racist, but seriously... the projects were not a good place. I wasn't racist in any sense; some of my best friends were black and Hispanic. My roommate at school was black. I loved my friends all to death... so it didn't even have to do with the fact that the majority that lived there were African Americans and I was this pale white girl. It had to do with the fact that there were people with guns that would shoot me and watch me die with a smile on their face. That's what scared me.

I struggled to control myself. But mind against body didn't seem to work. Meh, screw all those people who say 'the mind can overcome all.' My mind was * not * overcoming my body right now, and that could possibly lead me to living eternity in a grave. Which was not a pretty thought. I didn't like the fact that when I died, I'd be buried 6 feet under. Man, I was a class act. Scared of heights AND of being too deep into the ground. ...or maybe it was the fact that I wouldn't be breathing when I was down there. I wasn't sure at the moment. My blood was pounding too loudly for me to think straight.

...maybe *that's* why I couldn't control my body with my mind. Hmm...

But then I had no thoughts whatsoever in my head except "I'm going to die!" I screamed, realizing that I did have control over my voice, as this person tackled me to the ground. My t-shirt rose up, giving the ash fault free reign to tear my lower back to shreds. But that wasn't on my mind at the moment. When I looked up into his face... well, I think it was a his... whatever scream I had mustered went dry in my throat, cracking into a whisper that I couldn't describe if I tried. My pulse was throbbing in my wrists, fingers and neck. I felt like my heart would burst from my rib cage. I'd have rather died that way then by this... this thing that was on top of me.

He (I'm still sticking with my thought that -it- was male...) was the scariest thing I'd ever seen. Fangs... long, sharp, white fangs were bared, glistening much too close to my face. And it wasn't like a vampire's canines... no no no... his fangs were a nice, few centimeters longer. I had no clue how in God's name he would be able to hide those in public. His eyes were this blood red color, the pupils like those of a cat. His face was distorted like the vampires in some episode of Buffy that had gone HORRIBLY wrong. It was past distortion of that show. This was full-out hideousness. His skin seemed this grayish green color in the light, but I wasn't sure. This black, stick-straight hair hung into his face, shadowing his eyes. That didn't make my pulse lower. And I was very, very slight aware of the wings that had seemed to sprout through his clothing and out of his shoulder blades. ...could you even call them wings? They were much like bat wings, except much more... nasty. Demon-like wings. And they were the greenish gray color of his skin. Ohhh, and did I mention the claws that were biting into my wrists? I don't think I did. Those things could probably slice me into a million pieces... and probably just as well as they did at the meat market. I felt like stomach lurch for a moment at the thought.

It was then that I felt like some experiment from the movie Alien. It seriously felt like something was trying to pry it's way out of my body. Except it wasn't attempting to come out of my stomach. Nope. I could feel it very distinctively trying to burrow it's way up my throat. I started to cough frantically, trying to breathe correctly. It was as if claws were digging into my esophagus, trying to get up to an opening... which would have been my mouth. I was bucking against this thing, which was still holding me in place. I noticed he wasn't bearing his fangs any longer; his eyes were just dangerously narrowed.

And whatever had been inside me came out of my mouth. I hissed in breaths of Chicago polluted air, realizing that I was clawing at my throat, as if I could breathe easier that way. I let my eyes slide to the monster that was standing in front of me. He had this little thing clutched by the head in one claw. I don't have a clue HOW he held onto it. The thing seemed see-through. It was like one of those critters from the Darkness comic... nasty, demonic looking things with a mouth full of long, sharp teeth, black alien eyes, claws, and random spikes sticking out of their body. Except this one actually seemed like a ghost. But I knew it wasn't when the thing that had been on top of me moments before sliced it in half with his other claw. A green smoke came from the little demon as it disappeared in his hand... and the "spirit" (that's what I was calling it... it's what I figured spirits looked like... somewhat...) screeched loudly before dove down into the ash fault at my feet and disappeared.

I was beyond horrified. Horrified was too slight a term to describe what I was feeling. I had always wrote about things like this. Demons, ghouls, all the fun stuff of the fantasy/horror world... but experience it? I doubt many fantasy/horror authors want to meet what they write about. I don't know if Stephen King would have the balls to meet all of his monsters, especially if they tackled you in the middle of the night, when you had no control over your body. But with all due respect, *screw* Mr. King. All I know is I was petrified to stillness. I knew, could actually feel, that I once again had control of my body. That thought lead me to also realize that whoo!, I'd been possessed by a demon. Which lead me to realize I'd been attacked by one as well... and that he was still in front of me. So I looked up.

But I wasn't met with the sight of this demon-winged, fanged thing with crimson eyes. No... the -man- I looked up at was nothing of the sort. I started to feel nauseated as I studied him. He was a handsome boy... aren't they always?... with dark olive skin. His eyes glinted silverish blue in the dim street lights. I saw no red or cat-like pupils. I think I was starting to shake... not entirely sure, though. He was dressed in jeans, gym shoes and a black t-shirt. The only give away that he and the demon-man were one and the same was that one, his shirt was tattered in the back. It was barely hanging on his shoulders. Two, he had the same, stick-straight black hair hanging into his face. I wanted to cry.

"Are you alright?"

I jumped at the sound of his voice. Deep, and at the moment, very scary on the dark street. He must have gotten the idea that I was too scared to speak, or really move for that matter, because he knelt down to look me in the eye, this time his tone lighter. And he made sure to stay away from me. He must have went through something like this before... he very well knew that I didn't want to be bear him. It didn't matter that he looked human now. A minute ago he was some thing straight from Hell that looked like it could use me as it's play toy. "Say something so I know that I haven't frightened you out of speech."

"Eep," was all I could muster. He gave a slight quirk of his lips. I, for one, did NOT find any of this funny. I found it rather dreadful and scarring. God, I was going to go home with mental issues. More than I had already, anyways.

"I need to speak to you about things. You're my only hope. I know you're the one." The look in his metallic eyes made me almost cringe.

"The one?" I croaked out, my fear level rising another few inches. 'The one'. This did not sound good. At all. Why me? Oh, why me? This wasn't nice. Now I knew how the characters in my stories felt. I promised myself I'd never abuse them again.

"Yes, the one." He stood now, towering over me. I felt like a rabbit about to be snatched by an eagle... then taken to its nest to be torn apart for it's babies. Damn me and my thoughts through metaphors and similes. "I'll find you again... go home, before more harm comes to you." And he turned and walked away. If it was possible to actually fade into the darkness, this guy did it. And very well, at that.

And I took his advice. I found my footing, made sure I was able to walk without stumbling, and I ran home as if I was in some race that lead to the Goblet of Christ.


The next day I woke up with horrible pains in my already screwed up back. I had muscular problems in my back that always caused problems when I attempted sports or had to sit taking hour plus tests. But I was in more pain than usual, and it wasn't just my muscles that hurt. I went through a few moments of uncertainty, not knowing why in God's holy name my back was killing me. Then it all flooded back to me, leaving me feeling sick.

I'll never know how I got past my parents the night before. We live in a one-floor place with a basement; flats were common in Chicago. And in my neighborhood, unless you were reaaally rich, you were living in a flat... so they'd have heard the front and back door easily. And my dog would have barked his lungs out when I came back. But I'd managed to get out of the house unnoticed and back in unnoticed. I felt very, very thankful at that moment. Had my parents caught me, I'd be a goner. They'd have killed me, or at least tried.

Funny part was, I didn't know how I'd gotten out OR gotten back in. I was the only person in the house without his or her own house key. So I was feeling pretty crept out, too.

After pulling on a large sweatshirt because it's always freezing in my house in the summer, I grabbed my glasses. I couldn't see well without them; last night I'd worn my contacts. Thank God for that... or I'd have to explain broken glasses to the parentals. I opened my door and stepped out of my room. I squinted at the clock by the computer, then put my glasses on so I didn't have to strain my eyes or seem stupid. It was past 11. Dad was at work already. I looked on the computer screen and sneered. Mother dearest would tape a note there to make fun of me. I snatched it and read.


Me and your sister went to the store with Maria. Didn't have the heart to wake you up at 9. We won't be back until later; we're stopping by Gloria's for the day. Your twin went to his baseball game and is sleeping by your cousin. And your father's going out after work. Be good. Feed the dog and the bird. DO THE DISHES.

Love, Mama"

I groaned. Maria was my older, older cousin. Older than me by 20 years, but one of my best friends. I told her almost anything. I'd have loved to tell her about last night, but that'd be impossible until tonight or tomorrow. They were going by my aunt Gloria, who lived a nice 40 miles into the suburbs. Dad was at work and going out after, my brother at his baseball game then my cousin Danny's for the night, and mom and sister weren't home for the day., this day was working out perfectly and horribly at the same time.

I opened the parrot's cage on my way to grab the phone. As I dialed my best friend Tina's phone number, I watched the bird climb out and make beeping noises. My parrot, named Ramses because of my love for Egypt, loved to mimic phone calls. And he did it perfectly. Ring, dialing 7 digits... he was good. Sometimes we weren't sure if it was the bird or the phone ringing. He was an African Gray; body was gray, tail was red. The red reminded me of that demon's eyes, but I snapped out of it as I heard Tina's groggy voice. I wasn't the only one getting up after 11.

"Hellow?" A yawn.


"Gia?" She sounded a bit more awake now.

"Yeah... I need you to come over. Now."

"Why? Something wrong?" She sounded slightly concerned, as if she was debating if I was joking with her or not. I was good for joking with people.

"Yeah, something's just a little bit wrong... so come over. Please?" I think the edge to my voice captured her.

"I'll be there as soon as possible."


So I waited.

About 20 minutes later Tina walked in my door. She was my best friend of about 7 years. We've been like sisters since 6th grade. We ended up going to the same high school, so things worked out perfect for us. She was this Asian girl, not much taller than me. She had this weird hair for a Chinese person. It was all dark brown except for these streaks of blondish color around her face. It was natural, too. She said it was from stress. I'm not sure. Maybe she's just special. I like to think so. She was wearing jeans and a stretchy, fitted white t-shirt thingy. I hate those. For 3 years, I'd preferred my big, black t-shirts with words on them.

"Wow. You look like shit, Gee." She raised an eyebrow at me. Tina was Asian, had been born in China... but was more Americanized than her younger brother, who'd been born in the States. So she didn't have much of an accent, except a Chicago one, if one at all.

"Thanks so much," I said sarcastically, gingerly sitting on the couch so as to not kill my back even more. I probably should have cleaned it and all... but it was on my back. I was flexible... but not that flexible. I looked at the TV across from me. I could see my reflection in it. I kinda did look like shit. Seemed paler than usually, my hair was a mess. I hadn't bothered to brush it. Well, wouldn't anyone after being attacked by a demon the night before? I was still surprised that I wasn't as shaken up about it as I had thought I'd be. Maybe it was because I had forgotten the fact that he'd said he'd find me again... and ah, damn. I remembered. Worry, worry.

"So what's wrong?" She had a hint of concern to her voice.

I didn't even bother saying anything. I turned so that one leg was on the cough. Tina only blinked, as if trying to tell me she didn't see yet and I was stupid. So I lifted the back of the sweatshirt up, along with the t-shirt underneath it. She moved to stand behind me and I heard her gasp, saw her cover her mouth out of the corner of my eye.

I guess my back must have been really cut up, because she turned me to face her with this freaked out look in her eyes. "What the hell happened!?"