Lost To The Devil

Chapter 8:Is he gone?

Mum looked terrified from what I could glimpse, but she finally pulled herself together, determination on her face as people stared. She grabbed hold of the demon as he screamed and writhed around.

Mum pulled my body out of the car until it hit the floor. The demon was oblivious as he fought to stay inside of me, kicking and flailing my arms everywhere.

Mum came behind him on the floor and hooked her arms under my shoulders and lifted and half dragged the demon up. He lifted my legs off the floor and into the air as he tried to get her to drop him, but she had a firm grip even as people looked on. He screamed and screamed, trying to claw at Mum’s face, and managed to reach back and grab her hair.

“Get OFF!” He roared at her, but she kept pulling us along the ground, her grip tightening even as he struggled against her with unnatural strength. That was until he really lost it, and I knew why, he was about to be pulled completely free from me.

“Get the f***k off me, you stupid f.ucking c.unt!” He bellowed, and it was not my voice people heard this time. It was deep, ancient, and guttural, full of pure rage and hatred. A ripple of fear spread across the growing crowd. Some people gasped, but the young teenage girl and her friends, who had been excited by all the commotion, screamed and ran back inside.

Mum almost dropped me but didn't, and finally we were back inside. I felt the sticky feeling wrench away from me violently, and I came back into myself again, sweating and gasping for air.

My body felt like it had been a punching bag, and every bone in my body ached, but I was back, and that was all that mattered.

“Grace, my god, what on earth was that?” Mum cried, dropping to her knees beside me.

“I don't know. I feel sick,” I managed to whimper between my shivering. I wasn't really cold, but I was in shock and a lot of pain. Mum led me up to bed, her touch careful, protective, like I might shatter if she held me too tightly. She tucked me in where I slept for the rest of the day and night, dream-free.

A week went by, and I hadn't heard a peep from the demon Belial.

I was wary during that week, fragile and still healing. I crept around the house, every slight noise making me jump or scream in terror. I flinched constantly, expecting a slap or a kick or maybe even a bite, but there was nothing, no nightmares, no visits from him in dreams, no whispers, just absolutely nothing.

By Friday I woke up feeling happy and refreshed, Mum thought that the tablets were working and was happy to start leaving me alone again and was due back at work Saturday.

I was feeling happy again, and it helped that it was a warm, sunny day. The sun streamed through the window in the morning, warm and bright, lighting the room in soft gold.

I pulled on a white vest top, a checkered shirt on top, my skinny jeans, and Vans trainers. I didn't bother with makeup except for some mascara and lipstick to add a little colour to my lips; I was a girl, after all, and as for my hair, I just combed it through and added a little messy look to it.

For the first time in a long time, I felt good and decided to head out to the shops.

I bought a couple of tops and whatever else I felt I needed, and on the way back home I decided to pay the church a visit; I had someone to thank.

Sitting in the pew, I began to pray, but I couldn't remember any prayers I learnt as I grew up. I tried just talking to God but found myself choking so much in the end that people were starting to stare, and I had to get out.

Fear and hopelessness overtook me when I got outside when I realised he wasn't gone. The demon had played a cruel trick on me, and I was going to pay for forcing him out.

Nothing else happened that Saturday, but Sunday was a different matter. I had nightmares again that night. He didn't visit me in my dreams anymore; he didn't need to now, I had already done what he needed in those dreams...invited him into me.

The most powerful s.lap woke me from my fitful sleep that Monday morning, and being too tired to scream, I cried instead.

“B.itch!” I heard a husky voice hiss in my ear and then my hair was pulled, and I came toppling out of the bed and onto the floor, where I was kicked and punched once more and then bitten on my cheek before he finally left me alone.

I lay crying on the floor for hours that day, I didn't want to move or get up or do anything. What was the point if this is what I had to face from now on?

The whispering started up halfway through the day and intensified like always, only this time it kept intensifying until I was on my knees, hands over my ears, begging for it to stop.

Slowly I felt myself feeling lighter and lighter until I felt like I would float away as that staticky-like web covered me like it always did before he took me over. The whispering grew quieter and quieter, and my vision grew smaller until I again was only looking through a small pinhole of what wasn't my eyes or body anymore.

Belial smirked and stood up, stretching slightly, like he’d just woken from a long sleep. “I told you I would be back, and this time I'm not so sure if I can forgive you for what you did, sweet Grace,” he spoke out loud, and it wasn’t my voice that came out of my mouth. “Hush now and be a good little girl, and we will see where we stand,” he murmured softly.

If anyone had been watching, they would have thought I was an utter nut job talking to myself, although they probably did already after the last show.

Belial was a strange demon and didn't do what I expected. He spent the day taking a nap, then eating until even I felt sick, happily declaring how good it felt to taste food, then he watched a programme, a replay of an old EastEnders episode, and then he got up, leaving the TV on, and headed out, walking the streets like he owned them. People passed by unaware, completely unaware.

Inside I raged, “get out of my body!”

He smiled faintly. “I am your body now.”

He stopped in front of a shop window, staring at my reflection, tilting my head slightly, and studying me. “Our reflection,” he murmured softly.

My stomach twisted, and he felt it.

“You fight me,” he said, sounding amused. “But you invited me in.” He turned away from the glass and kept walking.

He ended up in Ann Summers down the town and tried on some corset-type outfit. I wanted to cringe in horror and embarrassment as he looked at my body in the mirror.

“Oh damn, why don't you buy things like this? I could have taken your virginity in one of these. You know I could help you learn how to dress for men, but then again I'm not ready to share you yet.”

He looked at the outfit some more and then hissed, “I don't need to wait for your dreams; I have your body, and I could take you right now, and there wouldn't be a damn thing you could do about it.”

I thought he was just threatening me, but he wasn't. He leaned back against the wall and tilted my head up and thrust two fingers deep inside of me so hard and fast I would have cried out in pain if I had a voice.

I could feel everything, and he could feel my emotions.

“Don't pretend you don't like it, b.itch. I can feel you coming on these fingers, mmmm.” He got faster and harder until he was gasping and then moaning in ecstasy. It was disgusting to see my reflection, my self acting like a w.hore. “But that's what you are, my dear; you are my w.hore.” He smirked.

Dressing back into my shirt and jeans, he strutted out of the shop and looked at a few other corsets and lingerie. I was fuming at this entity, thinking he could just take over my whole body and life, but I was also surprised that he didn't seem to steal anything; he was a demon, after all.

He seemed to hear my thoughts because he usually answered, and he did this time too. “I don't want to cause any chaos yet, Grace; I'm enjoying myself too much right now to get locked up just yet.” People must have thought he, or rather I was mad just strolling down the street talking to myself.