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The Demon

Monster by Skillet

H ave you ever been so absolutely obsessed with something that no matter what you do, you can’t seem to get it off your mind? As if this thing has snaked its way into your very soul, persistently pushing its way past the periphery of your consciousness and residing at the forefront to nag at you? Everything and everyone just seems to remind you of that thing, right?

That’s how I feel about her .

I’m obsessed with her. There’s absolutely no doubt about that. Every waking thought I have seems to find its way back to her. Hell, even in my dreams I can’t escape my little siren. She calls to me through the darkness of my mind, begging me to make her mine.

I watch her when she sleeps, when she eats, when she goes to work, when she comes home, and when she fucks. Every single soul who lands between her legs that isn’t me, stokes the flames of my fury. Each and every tongue that tastes her sweetness is a tongue I want to rip off and shove down their own throat. These moments are maddening. But she’s not ready for me. As much as I want her, need her , she doesn’t know yet how much she also needs me. So I’ll remain in the shadows of her life, watching and waiting. Her demon of darkness, stalking her silently.

My life has been derailed by her pink hair and pristine skin. I’m a man who likes to be in control and she makes me feel like I’m spinning out of control. She’s infuriating. She’s consumed me completely. And if I don’t find a way to have her soon, I might resort to desperate measures in order to rid myself of this compulsive need. Even now, when I should be focused on the hunt, my mind has drifted to her again. She’s made herself at home in my head and is holding my subconscious prisoner.

Good thing I have a distraction tonight.

His pupils are blown wide. His breathing is rapid and irregular as he furiously whips his head around, seeking a threat he cannot see. The drugs coursing through his system skew his sense of reality, making it impossible for him to distinguish what’s real and what isn’t. I can see the fearful desperation painted across his face. It’s so damn satisfying watching him sweat.

This fucker is a ghost of my past that I intend to make suffer. Unlucky for him, I’m wound extra tightly tonight, thanks to my sweet little siren.

A canopy of giant leaves casts shadows over the woods as I stalk my prey deeper into the darkness. It’s cold and wet tonight—really fucking wet. I fucking hate Washington winters. But the soft and steady rain does mask the sound of my footsteps as I close in on him. He has no idea I’m here.

We picked up our buddy Marcus tonight out drinking. He was half under the table when we approached him. Fucking asshole didn’t even recognize us. Yes, we have changed a lot since high school, but don’t you think you’d remember the faces of those you tormented for years? We convinced him to leave with us and head to the next bar. No one even batted an eye when we helped the stumbling asshole out of the building and put him in our trunk. Had he been a woman, red flags would have been raised, but no one gives a fuck when you kidnap a dude. His once bulky and muscled physique has aged horribly. He’s a fat fucking slob now with a beer belly and a receding blonde hairline. Star football player turned middle-aged prick with a comb-over and beer-stained khakis. Time may not heal wounds, but it sure as shit took its toll on Marcus.

The Devil and I look like gods compared to this douchebag. We made sure to grow the fuck up after high school. We worked hard, became smarter, stronger, richer. Better . This friend group, all of whom are utter assholes, sat around in our same small Washington town, drinking and reliving their glory days of high school. Who the fuck wants to peak in high school?

After drugging him and dumping him in the woods, all we had to do was wait.

We gave him a head start, of course. We always give them a head start. It never matters though, they never escape our wrath.

The blade is heavy in my hand, begging to sink into this fucker’s flesh. He owes me more than a pound of flesh for what he put me through, they all do. But tonight, I’ll get a piece of my revenge. We will get the next piece of revenge. This means just as much to the Devil as it means to me. He’s the closest thing I will ever have to a brother. He’s been my best friend, my only true friend, for as long as I can remember. He’s my partner in crime and my partner in revenge. And right now, he’s my hunting partner.

The Devil is as equally well hidden as I am amongst the shadows. Yet, the slightest glint from the moonlight reflecting off the blade held in his hand tells me his location. We have our prey cornered.

“I know you’re out there,” Marcus mumbles as he slips and stumbles across the muddy ground. “I’m gonna fuck you guys up when I catch you!” His words are slow and slurred, the drugs in his system distorting all his sensory abilities.

He spins around frantically as his dilated pupils scan the looming lines of tall trees around us for a threat that isn’t there. He’s worried about the demons of the night, and not the ones he knows. Stupid mistake Marcus. That’s the thing about cocky bastards—they always assume that their time will never come. They’re usually wrong though. The amount of times this asshole and his buddies have fed innocent women the same cocktail we shot into his veins tonight is deplorable. It’s about time this shithead gets a taste of his own medicine.

“Come out you fucking cowards!” Our not-so-innocent victim cries out into the night, spinning in mindless circles, looking for a fight.

From across the clearing I can almost sense the smirk that is no doubt spreading across my friend’s face beneath his mask. He’s a scary son of a bitch when he wants to be. The sinister cock of his head, the demonic eyes of his devil mask reflecting the small bit of moonlight, is a sign I’ve come to recognize—one that is usually followed by blood.

“No cowards here, Marcus.” the Devil’s deep voice ricochets off the thicket of trees surrounding us.

The lumbering oaf pivots to face my brother, his unfocused gaze filled with fury. He stumbles forward, tripping over mossy logs.

“How the fuck do you know my name?” he grumbles, slowly moving as if his limbs are encased in quicksand. Watching him try to fight the drugs pumping through his veins makes me think of his victims. How they must have tried with everything in them to ward him off, even as their strength depleted. The thought makes me mad, it makes me downright murderous. This motherfucker dies here tonight.

“Ouch, Marcus, that hurts,” I feign rejection as I step from the shadows. “Here I thought we were such good friends,” I say as he turns to face me, his thinning hair whipping wildly and sticking to his sweat-stained brow.

The dilation of his pupils suggest the drugs are fully coursing through his veins right now. His gaze is clouded and unfocused as he sways on his feet. This might be too easy.

“Admit what you’ve done and we will make your death quick.” the Devil seethes as he approaches our victim.

“Ad-admit what?” His speech slurring as the drugs reach peak potency.

I grind my molars in annoyance at his complete lack of awareness. He has no idea what he could’ve done? What someone would want him dead for? This fucking asshole is cocky in his inability to be caught, even as he faces his very own demons. The two of us are truly a sight to behold—a devil and demon come forth from the shadows, seeking a bloody revenge.

“Admit what you did to the women,” I growl as I grip the handle of my blade tighter.

“What women?” He smirks, laughing like this is some type of fucking game. “The ones I fucked? Trust me, they wanted it.”

With a quickness that is surprising even to me, the Devil has the giant of a man pinned with his arms behind his back and a blade to his throat. Our prey is too nervous to fight against my friend’s hold. He freezes, realizing he’s been caught.

“They can’t consent if they’re unconscious.” His low rumble is laced with an aggressive rage that I’ve only heard him use when it comes to her. Blood beads on the steel as the tip breaks through the skin of Marcus’ fat fucking throat causing our prey to whimper in fear.

Not so tough now.

“Look, man, it wasn’t my idea. Will—”

At the mention of that name, of his name, I see red. I can’t help myself. My blade sinks into his tender flesh, ripping and tearing his core before I even register what I’m doing. Marcus’ blood spills from his skin, splattering me as I stab him again and again.

“Fucking Will!” I roar as I pull back my blade and sink it into his rounded gut again.

Blood streams down my arms, mixing with the path of the steady rain to create streaks of red careening down my body. The Devil joins in, slicing his throat. Crimson sprays out of our victim’s neck. The smell of copper grows stronger as his open wounds gush in a rhythmic pattern to the final pumps of his dying heart.

“She wasn’t yours to touch! You fucking ruined her!” My best friend roars as his blade plunges in and out of our victims’ bloody and mutilated body over and over again.

When we’re both spent, we cease our attack. The only sound is our heavy breathing and the soft pitter-patter of the rain on the canopy above. Marcus stopped screaming and fighting a while ago. His vacant and horrified eyes stare up at the night sky. He’s definitely fucking dead.

“You go get the shovels; I’ll start cutting fingers and pulling teeth?” My best friend questions as he releases his hold on the meat sack that was Marcus.

“Yeah.” I nod, pulling the mask from my face so I can breathe. The cool rain is a relief against my heated skin as I turn and stalk off toward the service road where we left the car.

Three down, three to go.

There is— was —a group of six of them. Six monsters who have ruined countless lives. Six monsters we‘ll wipe from the face of this Earth. We might be headed to Hell, but we sure as shit will send these fuckers down into the fire pits of darkness before us. Marcus is the third we’ve taken care of and buried out in these woods. Three left. Brody and Will won’t get off as easily as Marcus did. Kyle has been suspiciously absent lately, but we’ll track him down, we always do.

As I walk back to the car with the cool night air biting my exposed face, I can’t help but wonder what my girl is up to. I’m tempted to pull out my phone and search the cameras I have placed in her home and work to see where she is, but I know better than to use my phone at a murder scene. It’s going to stay securely powered off until I get back home. She better be behaving. If I review the videos and see that she let another person touch her, there will be more than one body to bury tonight. Even the thought of someone else’s fingers running across her beautiful flesh has my blood boiling. The urge to claim her is growing stronger and stronger with each passing day. She’s an obsession that I can’t seem to free myself from.

She is mine. She just doesn’t know it yet.