Lost To The Devil

Chapter 12: Torment

Eventually her parents had no choice and had to hand her over to the hospital, who then turned her over to the mental institution where she still was to this day.

It was such a sad story, and I forced a lump down my throat as I looked on to see that every owner since had only managed to stay for a period of ten months, the longest being a year, before fleeing and claiming the place to be haunted.

My hand trembled slightly as I scrolled.

After I had done the house search, I next looked up possession and why and how it occurred. Apparently it wasn’t random, not entirely. It preferred certain people. The easiest to possess were those who were very sensitive in nature, more of a loner, and who were depressed.

I hadn't been depressed, but the demon had sure fixed the problem by tormenting me and haunting me to exhaustion, and I had always been sensitive and naive, so I expect an easy target for a demon.

Things had been quiet for three days after the priest left—no attacks, no chaos, just the whispers at night and the cold. It was always cold. On the fourth day I had been taken over again, and this time I felt he wasn't going to come out again unless the exorcism worked.

The demon had gone down to the kitchen that morning and sat at the kitchen table. Unbeknownst to Mum she had made me a bowl of cereal as usual in the hopes that I would eventually be able to eat and was stunned when the demon ate the cereal fast.

I felt his amusement at messing with Mum’s hopes. I saw her delight quickly change to terror when the demon got up and suddenly lunged for her, grabbing her by the throat with both hands and squeezing.

Gasping for breath, Mum fought us as hard as she could with the demon sat atop of her, squeezing tighter. Eventually Mum managed to get him off, coughing, rolling away as she scrambled to pin us down to the floor face first with her whole body.

The demon let her do it. I knew because I could feel the power and strength of him, and it was beyond staggering. I had no doubt he could have killed her if he had wanted. This confused me, and he seemed to enjoy my confusion.

Mum managed to drag the demon up to my bedroom kicking and screaming and swearing; she eventually managed to strap him down by tying my wrists to the bed with the special straps the priest had given as a precaution. Her hands shook, but she didn’t hesitate.

He laughed, low and cruel. The demon hurled awful and degrading abuse at her as she went to leave the room. “You f.ucking filthy c.unt! I f***k w.hores like you down in hell until you rip and bleed!”

Mum ignored him but stopped dead cold at his next words.

“Did you know I've already f.ucked your sweet daughter!”

Next thing I knew, Mum was throwing herself at us, s.lapping the demon round the face and shaking him while screaming it was all lies, her whole body trembling with rage and grief, all the while the demon found it hysterical and laughed in her face.

After a few minutes of pure rage, Mum stopped so suddenly that even the demon stopped laughing, confused by her sudden reaction.

The silence that followed was heavier than anything before it. “No. This is what you want, demon.” She stepped back, her breathing calmer. “And I won't give it to you. But I know what you do need.” Mum smiled sweetly at him and bent down, shocking us both to the core when she kissed our cheek gently before walking out of the room.

I could feel the demon’s shock and could tell that he had never in his existence experienced a reaction like the one Mum just gave, and I couldn't help chuckling to myself in all this craziness.

The demon suddenly whipped his full attention on me and out loud said, “shut the f***k up, b.itch. For mocking me, I'm going to send you to the mental home just like the other one.”

If I could have gulped, I would have; that voice never failed to send chills through me. That was the problem with possession you couldn't control your body, but you could still feel everything.

The demon literally just tore the straps from the bed and got up. He stripped us until we were just in a bra and pants and then, using my nail scissors, proceeded to cut my arms and legs excruciatingly slowly until blood was dripping from every wound.

The pain was unbearable, and then he made me wet myself and smeared it all over us. It was humiliating, but my attention soon turned to pure agony when he took my finger and snapped it back like a twig and then the next one.

I screamed, and it was out loud this time, along with the demon’s laughter. Mum came running in and screamed herself. “Grace, oh my darling.” She ran over to us and called the priest to explain what was happening as she drove us to the hospital.

The hospital smelt sterile, sharp, and clean. The fluorescent lights buzzed faintly overhead, too bright, making everything feel exposed. Still soaked in urine, the nurse gave me suspicious looks but fixed up my fingers and bandaged them while discreetly asking me if I was happy at home.

I explained that I had been extremely ill lately and hadn't made it to the toilet in time, I also had to lie about how I broke my fingers by saying that I had tripped on the last few stairs and landed awkwardly on my hand.

It was a strange feeling when the demon let me speak yet still controlled my body, and I'm not sure if it's something I could ever explain. I don't think she bought the story, but she left it at that, and I left the hospital burning with shame.

Upon returning home, I entered the house and saw shadow, our cat, for the first time in months. He had avoided me entirely, and as soon as he saw me, he hissed and arched his back before running off to hide in his tower den.

Mum had to strip me naked and put me in the bath because the demon refused to cooperate with her. She cleaned us and dressed us in a vest top and pyjama bottoms before settling us into bed and softly said, “the priest will be here tomorrow for the exorcism.”

Tomorrow. The word echoed, heavy and final.