Lost To The Devil

Chapter 4: Sceptic

I was becoming paranoid as I felt the intensity of being watched more and more. Wherever I went, I felt it, like a constant pressure at the back of my mind, like eyes just over my shoulder. I tried my best to ignore it. It was a Friday, and I was heading into the town for lunch and clothes shopping with Mum...for better clothes, that was.

The streets were busy, filled with chatter, footsteps, and the smell of food drifting from cafes and restaurants. Normally it would have felt comforting; now, though, it all felt distant, muted, like I wasn’t fully there.

We stood in line at a small restaurant; trays were stacked near the counter, the smell of chips, other greasy foods, and salt was thick in the air. My hands felt oddly heavy, my fingers tingling faintly as I reached forward.

“Why the hell did you do that for?” Mum yelled at me. I blinked. The tray I had been holding was now halfway across the room, resting beside the feet of an elderly couple at their table.

“What do you mean? What did I do?” I asked, confused.

“You just threw that tray across the room and missed those people by inches, Grace!” Mum answered, now glaring at me angrily, as was the whole room.

I stared at her, then at the tray, then at my hands. I didn’t remember picking it up; I could not for the life of me remember throwing that tray. “I-I didn’t…” y voice faltered.

The room was already watching me, judging. The couple sat stiffly, their expressions tight with discomfort.

“I’m so sorry,” I rushed, my face burning hot with humiliation as I apologised profusely. They nodded, but their eyes lingered on me, probably wondering if I was mentally unfit.

I made some excuse about what happened to Mum, but for the life of me I couldn't remember what I said because I was so exhausted. Either way, Mum, had let it drop, and we went shopping, but I could feel her watching me now too.

The house felt different by evening, heavier, like something had shifted.

Mum headed to bed after dinner, tired from her long week, and left me trying on my new clothes, the old casual style I loved.

I was just changing back into my clothes when a loud crash came from the kitchen, making me scream in terror. Sharp. Violent. “Mum?” I called, my voice trembling. She didn’t answer, not surprising because she sleeps like the dead; nothing would wake her, so I went to check it out.

Heart pounding, I stepped into the hallway. The air felt colder out here, the shadows stretched longer than they should.

The kitchen light flickered faintly. Swallowing hard, I walked towards it. Each step felt too loud, too exposed. I reached the doorway and froze.

All the dinner plates from the top cupboard were shattered across the floor, white ceramic fragments scattered everywhere. All the cupboard doors hung open too, swinging slightly. Drawers had been pulled out, some tilted, some completely off their tracks.

The room smelt faintly of dust and something else…something metallic. I wanted to run. I tried hard not to scream in fear. Instead, to try and make it seem less scary, I scolded the demon, “That wasn't very nice of you. Now I have to clean all this up.” I faked a casual sigh and got to cleaning the mess up, my hands trembling the entire time.

Silence answered me, but it didn’t feel empty in here; it felt…amused.

Once I was done, I had to admit defeat; there was no way I could hide this from Mum. I wouldn't be able to replace them either, as it was eight pm now and the shops would be shut. I braced myself for facing Mum tomorrow and dragged myself to bed, where I, for the first time in a long time, had a normal sleep.

“Grace!” The sound of Mum shouting angrily for me had me scrambling down the stairs to see what was wrong before I remembered last night’s incident.

Before I even had time to open my mouth, she shouted, “What the hell have you done with all my plates!” She was glaring angrily at me beside the bin where I had tipped all the pieces into, and I found myself actually gulping before I spoke.

Perhaps now was the time to open up. “I'm sorry, Mum, but when you went to bed there was a crash, and I found them on the floor, and all the cupboards and drawers were open.”

She stared at me unimpressed.

“I think…” I swallowed. “I think we have a ghost.”

I wasn't going to send my skeptic mum over the edge with the word demon.

Her expression hardened. “Don't be ridiculous, Grace; there's no such thing as ghosts.”

I flinched.

“You know your behaviour lately has gotten awful, and I'm absolutely sick of it.” Her voice rose. “I've had enough, and so you can damn well pay out the last of your pocket money this month, do you understand me?”

I nodded. What else could I do? There was no way she would have believed me about ghosts; she didn’t see it or feel it like I did, didn’t hear the whispers at night, but I was done hiding it. If anything else supernatural occurred and she asked, I was going to tell the truth whether she believed me or not.

I was at home all the time now; I barely left the house. I was mostly alone both days and nights, as Mum stopped in only for two hours before heading back out for her night shifts.

I started seeing shadows out of the corner of my eyes. I would be going to get myself a drink, and passing the stairs, I would see a quick flit of something black and tall, so fast it would be gone in the blink of an eye. At first, I told myself it was just my mind playing tricks; that was until I started seeing them all the time.

It was around this time that I had my first terrifying physical encounter with the demon while I was wide awake.

I yelled at him for turning on the stereo at full blast yet again, then the TV came on when I went up to turn the music off. I had almost gotten used to the creepy goings-on, but that was my biggest mistake. Sometimes I forgot I was dealing with a demonic entity and not a ghost, which I would be forced to remember.