by YD La Mar
When it looks like Reese is about to devour Amoora, I push her spirit out of the realm. I probably should have let her stay. Amoora is a failure at being a messenger. She is barely good at being a demon, which is precisely why I sent her on this simple mission. How can a human see so easily through her disguise? Oh, I enjoyed it very much when Reese kept referring to Amoora as a male. This human does things to me. She entertains me.
REESE
The day goes by like every other day. Make coffee at work, smile at all the customers. Walk home and dread what awaits me. Daddy probably thinks all my smiling is flirting, so he’s going to punish me. I’ve gotten so used to it that my skin is probably just as numb as my feelings. How much harder can he whip me or cut me until it feels like the first time all over again?
Once I enter the front door, I immediately feel like something is different about today, but I just can’t put my finger on it. What is this? This feeling of dread is different than the one I get when I know Daddy is going to blow a gasket.
I had put food in the crockpot before heading to work today, so the house smells delicious. You can smell it all the way upstairs to my bedroom. After getting out of my work clothes, I go around to gather all the dirty laundry to start a load in the washing machine.
I hear the front door slam open and I brace myself for whatever Daddy is going to spew at me. Nothing happens, so I continue putting dirty clothes in the machine until I’m done. Starting the load cycle, I place the laundry basket against my hip and walk out of the laundry room that’s attached to the kitchen.
When I enter the kitchen, the sight before me stops me in my tracks.
Mama is standing a yard away from me with a handgun pointed right at my face. What the everloving fuck? She doesn’t come back to take me with her but instead; she comes to take revenge on me? What a fucking bitch!
You know what? Good. Let her fucking do it. I’m tired of all this shit anyway. I’ve done my time.
“Do it.” I dare her. This ain’t a fucking bluff.
She didn’t expect that response from me because her eyes widen a fraction before she sneers in my direction, spitting on the floor. What is up with this woman and spitting?
“You fucking bitch! You stole my man from me right under my nose. How could you? He’s the only man I ever loved! After all we’ve been through, after all you’ve seen me go through?!” Is she for fucking real right now? She is out of her damn mind. Since I have her blood in me, am I going to go out of my damn mind too? Might as well end the cycle now, Mama, before we both end up in straight jackets.
She has the gun in both of her hands now, but her hands are starting to shake. Hopefully, she gets me between the eyes. That would be the best way to go. Quick and simple. Less suffering.
Of fucking course, even my death can’t be simple. Daddy comes home at this exact moment and tackles Mama onto the floor. I’m still standing here with a laundry basket against my hip, of all things, looking lost in the sauce. Universe, are you for fucking real right now?
I watch with morbid fascination as they both wrestle each other on the floor. Daddy gets the upper hand with his strength and grabs her wrist. The gun flies out of Mama’s hand and skids to about a foot away from me. My heart starts to race with the possibilities as I drop the laundry basket to the floor. What do I do? Do I end it all? Do I end my misery? What if the shot doesn’t kill me? Will Daddy still fuck my body until his anger goes away? What if, what if, what if?
My mind is racing with the gory images to accompany those possibilities when something whispers in my ear and I have to admit it sounds like a sound plan.
My parents are still wrestling on the ground; I can hear Daddy throwing fists into Mama’s face as he straddles her body. It doesn’t matter anymore. She lost my loyalty when she opened her damn mouth. Everything seems to happen in slow motion. The bodies before me blur in exaggerated movements as I slowly lower myself to the ground and take hold of the gun. It looks like a .38 snub nose revolver from my previous research. Perfect for my little hands.
The voice whispers in my ear again. It would be so easy. Just do it.
Bringing myself back into standing, I weigh the gun in my hand. How something so small can do something so destructive is amazing. I straighten my right arm out, holding the gun with steady ease.
“I love you, Daddy.”
Daddy is on top of Mama, throwing one last punch and leaving her in a daze. Her head is lolling side to side, but I can tell she’s still alive.
Daddy has a determined look on his face. I watch as he stands up slowly, treating me like a wounded animal about ready to attack. I am. I am beyond wounded. I feel absolutely feral. I give him my best smile and he flinches. It probably didn’t come out as sweet as I thought it would.
Why does everyone always put both their hands up and palms out? What does that really achieve?
“Reese, baby. You know Daddy loves you. Haven’t I shown you that?” It’s the sweetest I’ve heard his voice in a while. He hasn’t used that voice on me since I was still in the age of single digits.
He jumps at me, taking me down. The back of my head slams against the ground and I’m pissed as well as a little dizzy. Gritting my teeth with determination, my hand is still tightly holding the gun in my hand. We’re rolling and wrestling, but I manage to get my knee in his groin, stunning him for a minute.
Bang. Bang.
His body goes a little slack right before he looks at me with a look of horror and betrayal. I betrayed him? Give me a damn break. I push his body off me and he falls to the side. There’s blood blooming on his chest, and there’s blood splattered all over me.
Daddy is laying on his back, looking at me with tears in his eyes. Blood is starting to trickle from the side of his mouth, and I can’t help but think that crimson is such a beautiful color.
Daddy opens and closes his mouth a few times before he whispers in his last breath, “I love you, baby.”
My eyes are filling with tears and I fucking hate it. “I know you do. I love you too, Daddy.”
Raising the gun in my hand again, I point it right at his face. At least I know how to show some mercy.
Bang. Bang.
The warmth of the blood splatters on my face quickly cool while the smell of smoke from the barrel dissipates. I’m still smiling as Mama comes back into awareness. She turns to her side, sees Daddy lying there and screams. She doesn’t scream from what just happened, no. She screams, “James! NOOO! James! I love you!”
The tears in my eyes start to fall at that moment. Even to the very end, she only sees me as competition. Whatever higher power or fates that shuffled this shitty deck of cards in life have definitely stacked it against me. How can so many things go wrong in my life? What did I ever do to deserve all this?
I drop the gun to the carpeted ground with a thump and cover my face as I sob.
A breeze moves my hair to the side as I hear choking noises come from before me. When I pick up my head, I see my mother choking on something invisible because she was just fine before. Her hands are scratching her neck until it bleeds, and it looks like blood is coming out of her eyes, like tears.
For some reason, the sight before me soothes my heartache. Is that what I look like on the inside? Because it’s what it feels like most days. When her body falls to the ground, it quickly takes on a grey pallor.
I’m standing where our kitchen meets our living room, staring at everything before me. I feel numb, but I also feel like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. A cool gust of wind blows into the house. Looking up, I noticed Daddy forgot to lock the door. Of all the things to be thinking about, why that? Why does the front door now feel like the doorway to freedom that used to feel so out of reach? The clouds outside move ever so slowly as I continue to stare.
The sound of sirens brings me back to myself and the present as I hear male voices come through our front door. The blue and red lights look fuzzy as my eyes begin to tear up again.
BEHERAA
I tasked another sprite with Amoora to watch over Reese. Why I continue to do so is beyond me. I can’t seem to shake this creature out of my mind. It not only angers me but annoys me to no end. What is this? What does she have over me that makes me like this?
I continue to blame that damn hedonistic demon for this curse. I never used to care or have this much stupid human emotion course through me to affect me so. This blasted phallus between my legs is out of control. The only control I have is when I am away from the female, yet my mind betrays me and drives me to send sprites after her. What is becoming of me? Is it humiliation she wishes upon me? Because I feel damn humiliated with how I am acting in regards to her.
Araaz is no more intelligent than Amoora, but the two together should work fine. I’ve only started pacing my throne room when I feel the pull.
I find myself in Reese’s home. The fates will not allow me to avoid her, it seems. I watch as Reese pulls the trigger and her father slumps to the ground. Her face is devoid of emotion and I can’t stop staring at her as I start to pull on her father’s soul. She raises her hand and pulls the trigger again. What is it about this one? Why does she grow on me? She is changing again.
The pathetic human she has for a mother says something that makes Reese’s face morph into a look that constricts my chest. Why does it feel like something is devouring me from the inside? I turn to look at the human on the ground, sprawled over a dead body. A sense of irrational anger takes over me and I grab her by the throat. She cannot see me but she can feel me as she tries to scratch my hand off, only succeeding in scratching her own flesh. Good. She needs to suffer.
When her soul is finally ripped out of her, I turn to see Reese’s facial features smooth out. Why do I feel a sense of pride? These confounding human emotions will destroy me one day. I leave this realm and give no further instructions to my sprites I leave behind.
I’ve reaped 20 souls in this damn city upon my arrival. These humans and their petty squabbles. Bloodshed and casualties spread like diseases. History likes to repeat itself. My demons are excited to play with some of our new visitors, while the innocents were guided to another realm. I haven’t heard from Araaz or Amoora. Time moves differently in the realm of the dead. The days and nights are the same in my kingdom. The lullaby of cries and tortured souls.
I’ve come to find that I miss Reese. There is a strange feeling of loss and absence in my chest. It took me a while to understand why my anger would become irrational every time I reaped a soul from a female that reminds me of her. They no longer even resemble her. It could just be their black hair, the shape of their hips or even the way they walk, like their souls were already sucked out of them.
That last part angers me the most. It was the look on Reese’s face when her mother spoke her last words. That look has been burned into the very depths of me. I wonder how long it’s been since that day?
I mentally pull on the essence of my sprites to summon them. Amoora and Araaz appear before me. Amoora, the shape of a human child with skin the color of the dark depths of the seas. Araaz, a ganglier creature without eyes. The horns that protrude out of his head should be too heavy for him to carry as it is much too oversized. The same goes for his teeth. It makes his face look like nothing but a mouth and teeth.
“Well?”
“Master, she has moved to a different location. The third this past year.”
“Yes, yes, Master. She moves.”
“She resides in a small residence and continues to perform duties behind a desk. The building has many humans that come and go. They walk mindlessly and stay for long periods of time.”
“They all look the same. Like minions following a master that hasn’t been seen.”
I rub my face with my hand. The thing about sprites, especially ones as worthless as these, is that they are worthless at everything they do. Even something as simple as keeping a visual check on Reese becomes hard. What do I care for mortals who come and go?
“What of the female? Reese?” My patience is wearing thin and these sprites are starting to look like a snack just to end my misery of having to listen to their rambling.
“She comes and goes too. Yes. As mindless as the others, but she does not dress the same. No.” What fresh hell must I go through to get a straight answer from these pathetic creatures?
“She remains the same, Master. She goes to her building and then returns home. The building of her residence has many other males and females that come and go.” At the word ‘other males’, I snap my jaws at them.
“Enough. You two will be tasked to assist Baphba with the torture of souls who have committed pedophilia. Make sure you pay extra attention to the soul named James.”
“Oh yes, Master!”
“You honor us, Master.”
Their laughter and glee can be heard echoing down the chambers. It seems if I want something done right, I will have to do it myself.
REESE
It’s been seven years since that fateful day I became an orphan. The good thing about the timing was that I was already considered an adult, therefore, I was on my own. It’s not like it made any difference, seeing as I was pretty much on my own for a while before that day. Both sets of my grandparents had already passed away long before the day of the incident. Mama was an only child and Daddy never kept in contact with his estranged brother.
My parent’s case was labeled self-defense, especially after one of the neighbors chimed in about what they used to hear from our house. It seems someone did hear my cries when I still had them. As for my mother, she would have been charged with intent to murder if she was alive, but instead the coroner labeled it natural causes. No one could understand what happened, truly, but the bloody tears coming out of her eyes made the workers want to close the case in a hurry. It also seems the roommate she was staying with reported her to the police right when she left. She’s been planning that fateful day for a while, not hiding the fact one bit.
Seven years of trying to rebuild my life. Seven years to start over, again and again until finally, I think I’ve found a comfort zone. The personal assistant ad I responded to said they didn’t require any college degree, so I jumped at it. It pays much better than the coffee shop I used to work at back in my hometown.
I made sure to move a few towns over. I was tired of being the ‘drunk’s daughter’ to the ‘only one left at the crime scene’. Small towns and their gossip. Funny enough, my dad had a small life insurance policy that helped me start over. Do I like the fact that my pedophile of a father is still tinkering with my life? No. But I would be stupid not to use it.
My personal assistant job pays decently. Fifteen dollars an hour allowed me to start from living with multiple roommates to finally living on my own. I moved about three times this past year. The apartment I’m at now is a mile walk from my job. I just have to make sure to pack small heels in my bag to switch into when I get to the building. The company I work for creates advertisements for other companies like car dealerships and such. I don’t know much of the details as they have me pushing paper, mostly. I don’t mind it. It’s busy work, and it keeps me from interacting too much.
I don’t hate socializing; I just hate the questions that come with it. My life isn’t the best conversation starter.
The nice thing about my job is that it’s just a casual nice dress code. I didn’t have to go out and buy a bunch of new clothes and it helps me blend into the background when I purposely dress frumpy.
But today is not my day, it seems. Seriously, after years of turmoil and drama, I stay away from that stuff. I stay away from any form of people relationships. Josh works in one of the cubicles deeper inside the building. I don’t know for sure because they keep me out in the lobby mostly doing petty stuff like getting coffee and dropping off outgoing mail to sorting random papers.
I’m bent down, making sure I got all the outgoing mail I dropped earlier when I hear someone clear their throat behind me. It sounds masculine. When I get
back up to standing, I turn to see that it’s Josh. My hackles rise and I’m automatically on defense because I have not had the best luck with men in my life. Does that make me cynical that I put all men in the same category? I don’t care. The only person I ever cared about turned their back on me years ago and I haven’t seen him since. Yeah, I’m still bitter about it. But that also means I’m still hung up on the bastard since I can’t find it in me to forgive him.
“Hey, Reese.” You wasted my time to say hi? I attempt what I hope is a kind smile.
“Hey, yourself.” I’m trying my best not to drop the load in my arms as I start walking briskly towards the lobby doors. The sound of footsteps follows me, and I internally groan. Come on now.
“Hey, wait up! Reese, are you doing anything Friday night?” Good god, no. But I’m also not looking for anything to do with him either.
