Lost To The Devil

Chapter 7: possessed

When Mum came home two weeks later, it wasn't me who met her at the door.

The demon had taken over my body, and I was left looking through a black pinhole, distant and warped, watching and listening to everything but unable to do anything.

The door opened. “Grace?” Mum called out.

Then she saw me, or rather him. “Omg Grace!” Mum screamed, dropping her bag as she rushed over to, not me anymore, but the demon inside of me.

Just before he took me over, he had beaten me severely, I had fought like before to get him out, but he was stronger, and this time I lost.

“What happened ?” Mum cried, getting on her knees in front of us on the sofa and pulling my hair out of my face, taking in every bruise, every mark.

Inside I screamed it wasn’t me, but my lips moved anyway.

“I just miss you, that's all,” the demon replied softly in my voice. She looked at us in horror. “Are you telling me you did this to yourself?” She whispered, voice shaking.

The demon nodded, calm and composed. She wrapped us in her embrace, tight and fierce, as she apologised over and over, telling us it would be ok, that she would take time off work and take me to the doctors tomorrow.

I felt repulsed by the s.exual desire I felt from the demon; it wasn't her he was lusting after but her guilt and pain.

Eventually, when it was half ten at night, Mum led us up to bed and tucked us in like I was a child again. “I love you.” She whispered.

The demon didn't reply, nor did he give me my body back.

The next morning I woke up and realised I had my body back; I was fully me again. I didn't have a chance to breathe a sigh of relief before the deafening whispers started up. Overlapping voices screamed through my mind in hissing whispers, clawing at my thoughts until I dropped to the floor and clamped my hands over my ears.

Mum found me on the bedroom floor on my knees.

On the way to the doctor’s, the usual sign of a staticky, sticky, web-like feeling started to cover my body, like invisible threads wrapping around me. It tightened slowly, creeping over my skin, sinking deeper. It would build up in intensity until I would feel like I'd had one too many to drink; my limbs felt heavy and my thoughts turned sluggish, and then I’d find myself seeing through a tiny pinhole again as the demon took control of me.

Doctor Hayes asked lots of questions, “How have you been feeling lately, Grace, with your mother working so much lately?”

“Are you eating ok?”

“Sleeping?”

“Do you get out with your friends?” And so on.

The demon ignored every question, making the whole appointment extremely uncomfortable for everyone except himself. I could feel he was very much enjoying it; I could feel his amusement.

Doctor Hayes shifted awkwardly, glancing at Mum. He talked to her, and I managed to make out something about severe depression and being prescribed antidepressants and counselling.

He handed the demon the prescription, to which Belial snatched from his hand and pulled my face into a smirk. He sarcastically snorted, “You’re finally f*****g done, thank f**k for that, doc,” and strolled out of the room, leaving both Mum and the doctor gaping at us.

The car ride home was suffocating. Mum didn't say a word on the way back home, and neither did the demon. Who did he think he was, taking over my body? I was sick of him, and with new determination, I tried to fight him. I screamed inside my head for him to get out, that he wasn't welcome, but he just smirked. “What are you laughing at?” Mum asked him.

“Oh, nothing, just remembering an old friend.” He happily answered back as Mum pulled into the driveway.

He thought he was so smug; I was trapped here, and I didn't want to be. I used the last thing he expected. I yelled for him to get out in the name of Jesus Christ and almost expected him to laugh again, but that didn't happen.

Before he could climb out of the car, my whole body slammed back down onto the back seat until we were staring up at the roof of the car, Mum came running round to open the door, but she could barely touch us.

My body jerked violently, limbs thrashing uncontrollably. The demon had gone into a full-blown rage; still in control, he yanked at my hair, trying to rip chunks out. “No, stop!” Mum cried, trying to stop him, but our legs were flailing all over the place, so she couldn't get close enough.

I guess he was used to pain because he was now punching us in the face over and over and clawing at it until he felt blood on our nails. My skin split, blood smeared across my fists and fingers. I could feel everything, and it was pure agony.

I screamed and screamed, but no one could hear me except perhaps one person. Because when I repeated, “Jesus Christ, help me,” over and over, the demon suddenly screamed, an ear splitting scream that had Mum backing away for a second and neighbours piling out of their homes to see what was happening.

My body writhed and contorted, my head almost touched my feet as my stomach was pulled up hard, my back bending back in ways that it shouldn’t.

The demon felt like a sticky, slimey mess as he tried to cling to my body, but something was trying to rip him out. When it pulled at the demon, my body flung up in a sitting position, but the demon would cling on and force himself back inside, so my body would slam back down again.