One Way Ticket from Hell

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  • Published: 14 Apr 2018
  • Updated: 17 May 2018
  • Status: Complete
My live has always been a hell – and, I’m not exaggerating, I don’t have any teenage-crisis. I mean, Hell, literary. I live on the suburbs, you know, a dim and gloomy place called the Valley of Destruction, and my mom is a demon specialised in tempting our dear neighbours from above – from Earth. She’s really good at it – there are many of diplomas and statues for The Demon of the Year and even some for The Demon of Century. She has even a mug with bright red letter saying “A one-way trip to Hell”. But, if it comes to tempting humans, I must say I’m the best prove she’s good.
My name is Abandon – yes, after this Abandon, mum’s a real fan of him – I’m sixteen years old and I’m a half-demon.

Entered in the monster story marathon, category: a love story.

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12. Half demon, half human

I’ve promised my dad to have breakfast with him, but after I’m done speaking to Rachel, I still sit on my bed, like paralyzed. I can hardly move, while in my head my thoughts are buzzing and whirling, racing between the bones of my skull.

Hadn’t I gone to the cemetery, Peter’s camera would have never recorded the ghost and me talking to the lady from Hellish Emergency Line. I don’t know, maybe I’m going crazy, maybe the climate of Earth is not good for me, but suddenly the thought crossed my mind. That maybe there’s a tiny possibility that I am partially responsible for his death.

Maybe the possibility of it is a little bigger than tiny.

Did he get drunk because he knew? Because the truth he discovered was too overwhelming for his human mind? Because what he saw turned his world upside down?

Or maybe... No, it cannot be true... But maybe he was up to something, and the Agency made sure he would not go around and babble about me being a demon? I have never heard about Agency meddling in human affairs like that. There are thousands of mortals who claim they encountered supernatural forces. There are millions of clips with ghosts – some real, some fake.

But maybe there are no films with demons?

I shake my head and then I rub my temples, because my brain hurts. I reach for my hellish phone and choose my mother’s number.

“Hell, Ab, you know what time is it? I had the night shift!” she mutters angrily. “I hope this is important!”

“My classmate is dead,” I say. My heart is beating much to fast, and I feel like suffocating. “I need to know... I must know if you down here had something to do with it?”

“Ab, sweetheart. You know we tempt humans, not kill them,” she sighs. “We cannot perform such action with our hands. What do they teach you at school?”

“Right now, it’s History and Maths and Chemistry...”

That’s stupid.”                                 

“I know, mum,” I nod my head although I know she can’t see me. “When can I go home?”

Ab, you’ve been there for a week. It’s not long enough...”

“But mum!”

“You’re doing great, Ab. I’m proud of you,” she yawns. “And now I’m going to bed, so don’t call me ‘till afternoon, all right?”

She hangs up. I place the phone on the night table.

When I go downstairs, to the kitchen, my dad is waiting at me at the table. There’s a plate of sandwiches and two glasses of orange juice. There’s no cereal. I should be overjoyed.

“It was a long talk,” he says as I sit down. “You must like that girl.”

I shrug my shoulders.

“She was Peter’s friend,” I mutter, reaching for a sandwich. “And I called mum.”

He nodes his head with a rather uneasy smile. I’m sure he would rather I hadn’t call my mother while being under his roof – the thought of having a teen half-demon telephoning to Hell from the guest bedroom must be quite disturbing.

“I hope she’s fine,” he takes a bite of his sandwich.

“Yah, as fine as a demon can be,” I mutter. I think about the little conversation, and I smile to my thoughts. “She told she’s proud of me. She misses me, I guess.”

“I’m sure she is. She’s your mom, after all,” my dad smiles at me from above his glass. “Human or demon, mothers are mothers.”

“I guess you’re right,” I shrug my shoulders.

We eat in silence; my thoughts still circle around Peter. I wonder if seeing the video and getting drunk could be connected. In school, they teach us mortals often reach for alcohol when they cannot deal with their problems. What if Peter drank to forget what he saw? Would it make his death my fault?

But still, Rachel saw it as well. And she’s fine.

“Louis, if there’s something worrying you, you can just talk to me,” my dad says suddenly, and I stare at him, surprised.

“Nah, I’m fine,” I mutter.

He sighs heavily, gets up and places his plate in the sink. He’s about to leave the kitchen, when he stops by the door, turn around and look at me.

“Just remember than we make our own choices, Louis,” he tell slowly, his eyes focused on mine, “No matter if it’s your mother’s or Gabriella’s kind trying to influences us, our decisions are our own. I’m sure you did nothing to that boy. You shouldn’t feel guilty.”

“Guilty?” I snort. The whole idea both amuses and scares me. “I am a half demon, dad!

“And half human, Louise. Half human,” he insists. “I’ll be in the living room if you want to talk.”

He walks away, leaving me in the kitchen, with my mouth open. A slice of tomato slowly slips from my sandwich, but I hardly realise.

 

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