As far back as I can remember I’ve been plagued by demons. Not your fairy tale ones with long pointy horns and wicked faces but real demons. Voices in the night, voices in my head, telling me, nay forcing me to give in, to lash out at the world in a blaze of sadistic violence, to slaughter my loved ones.
The demons weren’t always here though, there was a time, I can barely remember it now, when I was happy. I see myself eight years old again, laughing with my friends as we sit in the tree house going through old forgotten comics. Age nine, assessing myself so hardcore for sneaking some of dad’s whiskey. I recall as a ten year old scurrying through the trees playing tag with buddies, burying letters to our future selves promising to dig them up in twenty years. Those days are gone.
I can’t pinpoint the exact moment when the demons first came, if I had to guess it would’ve been sometime between thirteen and fourteen years old. They began softly, the still small voice of evil, whispering to me, echoing in my mind. When I think about it now, I assume that’s what they sought, to disguise their voices, to make me believe that the violent thoughts were mine. Each time I saw gore in the movies I would smile, it turned me on, my heart beat faster and the demons said, “love it.” They’re not all to blame however, I too must take some responsibility, for I gave in not knowing at the time where the road would lead. I let my thoughts wander and the demons carried me the rest of the way
I was sixteen when I hit the point of no return, when the demons and I finally became one. I can still visualize it, although I’ve done a lot worse since. I see the blood splash onto my hands, I hear the kitten’s scream ringing in my ears. It fights, though still just a baby, it scratches the air trying to hit me, instead hitting itself. I laugh pleasurably as its claw slashes open its eye and when at last I crush its skull in my hands I feel the world and I feel my soul die a little.
The demons were elated then, running wild and uncontrollable through the caverns of my mind. I would lay awake at night entreating a God I could not see, praying for a way out and for almost a year I had one. I learnt to channel the demons, to give vent to their sickness by killing animals. It worked, the backyard is still littered with the graves of many a cat, dog, and hamster. But in the end they required more.
It was one month ago that they decided on my family. I’ve since tried to resist, to stay steadfast in the faith. You may think it would be the other approach, me trying instead to break the block and become a killer, maybe for some. The struggle for me though has always been to fight the demons, try to stay sane, but I am alone and have not the strength to battle any longer.
For this incentive I now write, praying that I may find some small condolence for the crimes I shall commit. The newspapers will have a field day tomorrow and thousand’s of viewers across America will be appalled by the seventeen year old who slaughtered his family in cold blood. At least they’ll know how I tried, but what hope is there for a young boy to overcome demons of darkness? Tonight will be an evil night for my parents and younger sister, I love them so and wish to God it could be another family. The demons are here now, I hear them loud, they try and mask themselves but we all know it’s useless. Ah! They’re strong, they tear at my mind, I have to go, have to obey them. I thought about killing myself afterwards but I know I’m too weak, I can murder my parents but not myself. I suppose I’ll run away, to where I haven’t a clue.
Goodbye beautiful world, I pray no one else goes through what I have.
Derek Tall.
Folding the letter, Derek permitted his gaze to wander out the window, the shadows of night had crept up silently and enveloped the complex. He watched as mothers ushered their playing children into the shelter of their homes, and husbands were greeted in the arms of their loving wives. Derek saw all it all, he’d seen it for years, he wished only to see it forever. Placing the letter on the desk he stood up, stretching as he did. Sounds floated in, talking from downstairs and a shower running across the hall, it was time.
Derek pulled from within his drawer a Taser, he’d bought it yesterday, no questions asked. He stared down at the weapon, it stuns for thirty seconds, he thought, that’s all I need for mom and dad. He wouldn’t use this on Suzy his fist would do that trick. Pocketing the Taser he stepped from the confines of his room and down towards his parents.
Caroline and Mark sat at the table, the aroma of roast beef soaked throughout the house.
“The kids better hurry,” Caroline mentioned as she stared at her watch, “foods going to get cold and if they want to watch the movie before it gets to late.”
She was stopped short as Derek entered the room, they turned and smiled at him.
“Well it’s about time, made your favorite, roast beef, oh and can you call your sister she’s taking to long in the shower.”
Noiselessly Derek stepped behind them. Suddenly, remembering the phone call he’d received earlier, Mark spoke, “Oh Chantel’s mom called today, Judy, she told me Chantel’s been acting extremely strange since your date last week, any idea…”
His words were cut as a strong blast of electricity coursed through his body rendering him unconscious. Caroline jumped but as she opened her mouth to scream, she too was dropped to the floor. Derek wiped the tear that threatened to spill and busied himself with tying them up.
With his task finally completed, he suddenly remembered Suzy and looked upwards as the sound of running water reached his ears. Slowly and ever so sadly he climbed the stairs. Reaching the top he paused as tears of sorrow flooded from his eyes, he collapsed to the ground holding his head in agony. A minute or two must’ve passed before he lifted himself, the demons having finally won.
Suzy whistled in the shower, only eleven years old but already recovering from heartbreak. Ryan had split up with her, he hadn’t even said why, just stopped talking to her at school. She cried a bit and wished life were easy like it’d been a year ago, before she first saw Ryan, first saw him smile… The door crashed in, she wailed in terror as a shadow rose from behind the curtain, a hand reached out and ripped it away.
“Derek, what?” Was all little Suzy had time to utter before a fist loomed in her vision and all went black.
Derek slumped onto the seat breathing deeply, he’d finished the grunt work they were all tied up facing him, gagged and unable to move, ready to be sliced and burnt. He surveyed his tools. Distributed across the dinning room table, a knife, an electric drill, and a blowtorch, one for each of them, that’s what the demons wanted. A movement to the left caught his attention, his dad and mom were awake. Still groggy however, they couldn’t comprehend what was happening.
Derek picked up the knife, a fat, sharp butchers tool, his mom would use it for cutting steak, now he’d use it to kill his father. The demons would be satisfied, he thought, looking back at his parents. Yes no more complaints.
“I love you,” Derek said, then stepped forward and hacked the knife deep into his father’s throat.
Mark once a strong and kind man, now dead at the hand of his son. Derek wrenched the blade out, blood soaked over his hand and arm. The eyes of his father were cold, forty years of life, of learning and work, gone in a second, taken by him.
Derek fell to the floor, heart pumping with adrenaline, thought’s raced through his mind and the demons ran berserk. He was back up in a second, the beauty he felt was magnified a thousand times greater then that of killing animals. He smiled at his mom then chose the drill and started towards her.
Caroline was in shock, praying it was a dream. She couldn’t grasp what was happening, her son, her beloved baby boy, had killed Mark. No, she thought, it’s not real, just a nightmare, part of her imagination. She’d always had a vivid one though never this perverse. And so when Derek finally reached her, it was not feeling’s of fear that plagued her mind, but just wondering when she would wake up, hoping it’d be soon.
The drill moved to her face. She’d awaken next to Mark, he’d be snoring as usual and the kids would be making noise downstairs, wanting their breakfast. Later, once the family finished her scrambled eggs, they’d all kiss her adieu before heading to school and work. Derek would say he loved her. Life would be happy forever more.
Derek let go of the drill. It clattered raucously onto the floor. His eyes gazed down upon his mother’s face, a layer of piled membrane, blood squirting through the numerous holes. The tender mother she had once been now replaced by a demonic corpse. He wiped the tears from his eyes. Truly he had loved her.
He turned to the table but a gagging noise woke him from his trance, Suzy had gone into convulsions she was choking on her own puke. Her body raked up and down, an eleven year old with her last breath slowly extinguishing. He watched as her arms stiffened and finally fell dead, her body frozen in pain. She died before he killed her.
Derek sat down on the chair, surveying the picture of carnage, the adrenaline had been miraculous but it was wearing thin. The demons never warned him of the feeling’s he’d experience once done. It took him by surprise his vomit came strong and projected across the room. He saw the faces of each loved one; his father’s cold look penetrated his soul, his mother’s face scarred into his memory, and his sister’s bloated mouth and lifeless eyes screamed at him from beyond the grave.
The chair slipped from beneath and kneeling he wept before them, “I’m sorry,” he begged, “I’m sorry.” But there was no answer, they were gone, and despite his wish for them to be alive, for this to have been a fantasy, a dream, dark and dreadful sure but just a dream, it was not. He had surpassed all sin, he had earned himself an eternity in hell, the demons hadn’t murdered them he had.
Pulling himself from the floor he knew what was to be done, he hadn’t planned on killing himself, but then he hadn’t felt this. He turned from the bodies fearful of them, his once blissful family now just figment of his imagination. Back in his room before he knew it, the fall from the window would be enough. The blood that covered his body had begun to dry and with it came the stink of death. His mind was blank now, not even the demons could sway him. They didn’t want him to die he was the perfect vessel, but his self-disgust was finally greater then them and the final words from his lips were, “Fuck, I’m sorry.” It was over, the ground rushed up and swallowed him, the darkness was overwhelming then he felt it…. Fire!
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United States • 31 years old