This Demon


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1. What you would call real but not quite believe it.

I walked into the kitchen, putting the leftover food on the side.

I stopped. I could hear footsteps, getting louder.

"You ok?" He asked.

"Yeah." I lied, trying not to show how much I was shaking.

He closed the door.

"Everything will be ok, let's just go back through-" I grabbed his neck with both of my hands.

"You think it's that easy?!" I paused for a breath. "Do you know how hard it is to try and keep this side of me hidden?"

He was trying to get my grip off his neck, but failing, His face going red.

"Stop it." He told me, As if it was that simple.

I suddenly stopped and grabbed a knife from one of the holders and quickly walked to the other side of the kitchen, keeping away from the door, because a part of me didn't want to leave.

He also took a knife out of one of the holders. He looked me in the eyes.

"You won't hurt me." I told him, confident, for once. He put the knife down.

I stood in the corner, trying not to make eye contact whilst my brain shouted at me.

I put the knife against my neck, looked at him, then let the blade cut through my flesh and let blood to run. It was a small cut, no permanent damage was done.

Just seeing blood made me want to hurt him more.

"Stop it, I don't want you to hurt yourself."

"Tell that to my fucked up brain." I said in a plain and boring voice.

I licked the blood off my hand, which I got from my neck, now that the blood had run further. The taste was perfect, even if it was my own blood.

I quickly moved nearer to him and put the knife to his neck. He struggled.

"I'd advise you not to move."

He stopped.

I pressed it against his flesh, then the side of my brain that I liked from time-to-time told me not to. The knife came away.

But then it came back.

I kicked him in the leg, nearly making him fall, but managed to hold himself up by the counter.

I wanted to punch him.

But I didn't.

I went face to face with him, his lips shaking.

"Your shaking." I pointed out. "Are you scared?"

He didn't reply.

"So tell me, what's it like going out with a psychopath?" I asked.

"You're not a psychopath."

 

Psychopath:

an unstable and aggressive person.

 

"Yeah, keep telling yourself that." I looked him in the eyes.

There was silence, then he spoke. "I was thinking more murderous."

"That's worse, but sure, let's go with that." I smiled.

 

Murderous:

very violent or deadly
very angry

very harsh or severe

 

I then pushed him into the side, making a loud bang as he bashed into the stuff on the side.

 

'You're fucked up. You're a mess. There's no point in you being alive. Do you remember what he said to you? He wanted a physical relationship, even though you told him you weren't ready when you first went out. He's just like the other ones, always expecting something. He's a dick, you know that, that's why you first hurt him. He called you 'possessed', but that's before he knew about me and how much of a bitch I was to you. Now, hurt him, or you will hurt yourself.'

 

I was still shaking, trying to control my own actions. I elbowed him in the side, making him go into the side again.

Stop it.

The knife in my hand was up high, ready to drive through his shoulder.

That's when I dropped it.

I walked out as quickly as possible. 

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