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Chapter 6: Pain, Pain, Go Away |
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Demitry had stayed at the table, with his father, surprised that he had gotten down the stairs without tumbling down them. He watched Sarah leave with their mother out to the mall or shopping or wherever they were going. He looked back to his father, his eyes filled with pain, confusion and over all, depression.
“What’s been going on Demitry?” His father asked an almost soothing tone in his voice.
“There’s these pains.” He explained his voice hoarse. He was trying hard not to break out into tears like he had the last time, when Sarah let go of him and Apollo laughed at his pain. He swallowed hard, looking from his father, to his clenched fists, already becoming white at the knuckles.
“What does the pain feel like?” His father asked, and he really wished that he hadn’t.
He shuttered, his eyes closing as he sighed. “What doesn’t it feel like…” He murmured under his breath. “It feels like my back is ripping itself apart. My body feels like it’s on fire or like ice… and there are these weird things that I see. I could have sworn that Apollo had wings before I passed out in biology earlier.” He spoke, his voice picking up a higher note here and there from nervousness and lack of a good rest.
“Have you felt like something’s coming out of your back?” His father asked his face pale.
“After I got home… it felt like two things were coming out of my back, things that weren’t supposed to be there. Apollo had said something about a transformation.” He looked back up to his father; his normal pale complexion had lost all of its color, with the exception of the dark purple rings around his eyes. “Dad, whatever’s going on, I want to know. I need to know. I don’t want to keep thinking that every pain I have is from something stupid.”
“It’s not boy, It’s not.” He said, letting out a sigh, and putting one hand to his forehead. “I’ll tell you the whole thing, but you’re not going to like it in the least bit, not anywhere close.”
Demitry tensed, his shoulders stiffened and he felt himself go cold all over. “Just tell me.”
“You might just want to calm yourself a bit, but here goes anyway.” His father got himself comfortable in the wooden chair, which was almost impossible, but he looked straight at Demitry, whose head was down at his hands again. “When you were young, they gave you up.”
“Who’s they? My parents?” He asked, stunned a bit.
“In a way, yes, the people who gave birth to you, but in a sense, they weren’t exactly your parents.”
“Then what were they?”
“It’s going to take a lot longer if you keep bombarding me with questions.”
“Sorry, sorry, go on.”
“Anyway, you were somewhere around five months, Sarah hadn’t been born yet, but you had already seen too much according to the council. Your ‘father’ had slew your ‘mother’ after giving birth to you, and killed a few other people as well. The council seemed to be bound on keeping you alive, and for what reason, we didn’t know. Everybody was in frenzy those days. A young man from what you would call ‘heaven’ had actually taken his own time to come down at see what all the fuss was about and he ended up taking that child, you, back up with him. He said that you would be safer there, then down here, but it wasn’t that much different. People still neglected the small demon child and when you were four that was when you were to come down to us. They made you forget everything, who you were, what your father did, what you had done to the angels, everything.
They brought you down to us in the form of a sleeping orphan; you scared Diane half out of her mind when she saw the wings on your back. But none of this came without its price Demitry. They cursed you, they all cursed you. They condemned you to never remember any day, any sight that you had anything that they could see and humans couldn’t. They wanted to reduce you to the lowest form of being. Those pains, those are the effects of the curse weakening, though Apollo seems to know more about all of this. The angels will hate you, as will the demons, as will all form of being that knows what the tattoo on your back symbolizes.
Let me warn you though, the angels don’t fight fair. They’ll take everything you find precious and cherished, they’ll take everything until you’re weak and beg for death, and they’ll watch you suffer. They don’t like the demons, the demons don’t like them, they both play dirty.”
Demitry had become much paler than anything, eyes wide and scared. “Is there any way to actually die?” He whispered.
“For demons, only a trick few, but that’s all.”
He went silent, slowly got up from the table, and stumbled back up the stairs, feeling as if his whole world had been tipped upside down and backwards.
“Demitry. Life isn’t always the way you want it to be, there’s a lot of things that need to change in order for it to work out, but nothing’s going to end up perfect.”
“Yeah, I know Dad. That probably explains why every time I date a girl in school, she cheats.” He muttered, halfway up the stairs.
“So you’re getting it already.”
“Yeah, you know why? Because every single guy in my school has those damn wings. Every single one of them already knows about the monster I am.” He snarled, his voice now riddled with anger. “And they’re basically saying that there’s no place for me. Never is, never will be, never can be.”
His father seemed surprised, though his face now had color back in it as Demitry slammed his door shut. He sighed, running his fingers through his hair and closing his eyes. “They never said that living with him would be easy, that’s for sure.”
Those last words seemed to echo through his head as he lay, starring at the lamp on his bedside table. His eyes probably looked empty, though there was tiredness, insecurity, hate for the world and depression filling through his topaz eyes. He let in a breath, sitting up in bed topless, which wasn’t anything new.
He stood, wobbling a bit, then regaining his awkward balance as he slipped a Slipknot shirt over his head. He blinked once when he heard noises down the stairs. Thought mom was at work, He thought, opening his door slowly, stepping down the stairs as silent as possible. He could have sworn he heard a giggle, then a soft hushing. He held his breath, peeking around the corner and into the den.
Then, everything was just a blur. Sarah, of all people, came home with Apollo, the guy who obviously hated him more than anything now and what crushed him even worse – She was having a make-out session with him. What’s going on? He asked himself, already starting to feel tears. A gasp came from Sarah, who had just noticed Demitry staring at her and her boyfriend. Pain washed over his face like a wave as he shook his head, traveling quickly up the stairs.
Only a trick few… I wonder if bleeding to death is one of them, He contemplated, locking his room after getting back inside it, Sarah pounding on the door.
“Demi! Demi let me in!” She whimpered as if she were sorry for what she did.
“No. Go away.” He muttered his voice cold. He looked around his room for his switchblade. It wasn’t too long, maybe about four and a half inches.
“Demi! Let me in!” She almost shouted, and he could almost feel her eyes boring through the door in sadness.
“I said go away.” He hissed again. He could hardly get mad at Sarah, so when Apollo came up the stairs to comfort Sarah, he could feel the surprised tension in the air.
“Demitry, you’re being an a**. Let me in.” She pounded once more on the door.
“Damn it! Go away Sarah! Just leave me alone!” He yelled and he heard the ripping sobs threatening to come out of him. He put his hand on the switchblade, flipping open and just staring at it.
“Demitry, you truly are a heartless demon.” He heard the same cool voice that belonged to Apollo.
He hadn’t really realized that he’d moved his hand up onto the blade of his knife as he clenched his hand, staring at the door in an angry glare. At the moment, he was actually thinking about slitting Apollo’s throat to end that annoying voice. Once the pain finally set in around his palm, he looked back to his hand and cursed colorfully for a moment or so.
He heard Sarah run somewhere and come back, only to open his door a few seconds later. He struggled to move his blade somewhere else, but there was no hiding the blood welling up on his hand and dripping onto the floor and his wrist. “I thought I told you to go away…” He grumbled, not looking at her.
“You cut yourself.” She said, almost breathless.
“I didn’t cut myself. Your friendly a*****e made me close my hand on the blade.”
“Apollo isn’t an a**!”
“Oh really? I beg to differ.” He growled. He stared at his palm as if he was going to find comfort in the blood.
“Why can’t you just accept that he loves me?”
Then, it seemed like it wasn’t he who was talking, like it was a snap reaction that his body and mind was supposed to make.
“Because I love you!” He shouted, looking to her with pain in his eyes.
 iPsychopath · Mon Dec 01, 2008 @ 10:35pm · 0 Comments |
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