Demons Smile Too (precursor)

         This competition was called A Knock at the Door and we were required to have the story start with a simple knock on the door. Whatever unfolds past the sound was up to us. In this spooky October competition, I wanted to write a precursor to my short story "Inner Demons". While I don't always write about demons (I promise!), it provided a good opportunity to expand upon Lenore and Ophelia's story given that this was submitted to the same platform. Enjoy!

CW: Demons, Violence

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The thuds pound against my heart, stuttering its beat with the too late visit. Turning to the clock, the hour hand slides into ten o’clock. I close my book with a sigh and hope it’s only one of my friends after a night out needing a place to crash.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Knocks turn into desperation under the fists behind the door. Chills skitter down my spine. I don’t know anyone who would pound on my door like that, much less at this hour. Nerves chase the chills, coiling down to my toes as I take one shaky step, then two towards the door. I cross my foyer and the cool black and white checkered marble offers little soothing.

The door handle rattles. I’ve never wished more for a window to peer at the possible danger awaiting. With trembling fingers, I slide the deadbolt with a click. Silence rolls in place of the once furious pounding. As I crack open the door, a tree branch screeches against my window, setting my teeth on edge.

“You’re being ridiculous, Lenore. You’re scared of your own shadow at this point,” I mutter under my breath.

“Please help!” calls a child’s tinkling voice.

My shoulders drop with my relieved exhale and I throw the door open. Just as quickly as relief found me, it vanishes. A small girl hunches at my doorway, her black hair mats to her face and her darkened eyes ring with purple. My heart wars with itself, both dropping at the terrifying sight and tugging with compassion.

Darting her eyes to my face and away, she pleads, “Please help me. I just need a place to stay for the night. My family…they kicked me out and I don’t know where else to go. Will you please let me in?”

Leaning into the night, I look down the empty street. “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea. What’s your name?”

“Ophelia,” she wails, dropping to her knees with clasped hands. “Please! I can help you just as much as you can help me.”

I’m unsure how that could possibly be true, but I cannot shut the door in a child’s face. What kind of monster would that make me?

“Okay,” I say with a sigh. “Come on in, but just for the night.”

A jagged smile stretches Ophelia’s face, winding nervous flutters into my stomach. There is something very wrong with this girl. Waving off the thought, I am sure this is just my fearful mind speaking.

I motion for her to follow as I turn into the house. Ophelia crosses the threshold and snatches my hand with blinding speed. My stomach twists as her nails claw into my palm, slicing a deep cut. Crimson slides along the wound between our hands, but it is the least troubling aspect I face.

Her voice comes out gritty and animalistic, “I know the parts you hide away. Let me bring them to the light so you may be at peace, Lenore.”

As my name tumbles from her lips like slick oil, all warmth rushes from my body. I never told her my name. The pulsing wound quickens with my heartbeat and my feet trip over themselves as I stumble away from her.

“I’m only here to help,” she vows with a raised hand. “I’m sorry about that, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Holding pressure to my palm, I swallow the knot building in my throat. “A-a-alright, let’s just go to sleep okay? Come with me.”

Against my better judgement, I lead her up the winding staircase to the guest bedroom. How much damage could a child really do in one night? Ophelia pushes around me with wide eyes and runs into the room, squealing as she dives onto the bed.

She snuggles into the plush green comforter and sighs, “Thank you so much. I doubt I’ll be getting much rest, but I thank you greatly.”

The chills along my back warm with her gratitude. She’s just a child who needed a place to sleep. Guilt weighs my chest for how I judged her by her appearance; if her parents kicked her out, I doubt they cared much for her.

“Of course,” I say through my genuine smile. “Get some rest. I’ll be right down the hall if you need anything.”

I close the door with a soft click and shake the worries from my mind. My lamp glows from my bedroom with welcome. Stepping into its warm light, I climb into bed for some much needed sleep. A nagging tug in the back of my mind makes me look at the door with caution. As ridiculous as I feel, I cross the room and slide my lock into place.

I drift along the edge of the dreamworld, but it escapes my grasp each time my eyes flutter closed. Ripping my too hot covers off my body, I stare at the ceiling and my heart stops with the ice racing in my veins. There, on my ceiling, shadows swirl at a menacing, slow pace. Without another moment to consider their presence, they descend and sink into my chest.

The shadows grip me with a cold intensity, sending every bit of warmth into their abyss. In its place, life thrums vibrantly in my chest. My eyes widen with the vigor running through every cell and an adventurous night to be had.

A sinister voice snakes into the back of my mind. “You are always so scared of yourself. Let yourself free.”

I look around my dark room, but I am alone. It should scare me—it usually would—but it’s right.

“Get up. You are useless if you deny yourself the pleasures of life. Get up.”

I think to all the times I declined going out with my friends, too scared of what could possibly happen. Throwing all caution aside, I leap out of bed. My steps are jerky and foreign as if commanded by marionette strings as I walk to the bathroom mirror.

A laugh rumbles in my chest with my darkened eyes staring back at me. I look feral and unkempt with the wild pitch to my face, but I like it. This version of me feel so…right. Opening my closet, I pull out leather pants I was never brave enough to wear and a red cross banded top. Giving no further thought to my sudden change, I head for the night awaiting my new found desires.

The chilling night air wraps around me without sinking into my bones. Phantom music calls to me from the bars just up the street and I flee to their siren song. Thorne Street’s glowing lights come alive in their vibrancy against my too sheltered soul, beckoning my patronage. I walk down the middle of the street as the vixen in me comes out to play.

“Give yourself a night you won’t forget. You have been too scared for too long. Revel in a night of freedom,” the voice hisses in the back of my mind.

Laughter fills the night as a couple stumbles out of Lucky 8, the seediest dive bar in town. With every step towards the doors, iron pulls in my veins as if magnetized by the debauchery inside. I place my hand on the cracking wood and shove it open.

Cigarette smoke curls heavily in the air. Breathing it in, I sigh with a happy hum. I scan my eyes around the darkened bar, only lit by flickering neon signs, and a wicked smile curves my lips with every man’s eyes on me. What would be a jolt of fear accompanying their attention now only sits as a gleeful tendril brushing against my hunger. The bartender’s whistle claims my attention.

“What will it be pretty lady?” he asks, leaning into the bar.

“Bourbon neat—Bullet if you have it,” I reply, tracing my fingers over his tattooed hand. 

Turning around, I lean back on my elbows against the bar and observe the room. Clattering billiard balls punctuate Iron Maiden playing over the speakers at a deafening volume. The shadows running in my veins purr. A group of burly men shout hearty cheers as they clash their drinks together and I roll my eyes as they compete for who can finish first. Imbeciles.

“Strong drink for a little girl,” croons a deep voice beside me.

Turning to the sound, a man in a leather vest crooks a smile and reaches his fingers for my hair. The voice in my mind hisses and the shadows surge within my soul. Grabbing his hand, I clamp down on it with all of my strength and twist.

Snap.

The man shrieks and flails against my grip.

Leaning down to brush my lips on the shell of his ear, I whisper, “But stronger than you.”

The whites of his eyes grow as he tumbles out of his chair and scampers along the floor. A haughty laugh reverberates in the corners of my thoughts. He should have known better. Another man by the billiard table winks at me with a warm smile and runs a hand through his auburn hair. Swiping my drink from the bar, I saunter over to him.

“Finally, a man who doesn’t cower,” I say, pressing my glass to my smirk. The amber liquid rolls smooth over my tongue and ignites a comforting fire in my chest.

“I like a woman who can handle her own,” he says with a click of his tongue.

“How far can you press him? Wouldn’t you like to see?” The voice echoes.

I swig the remainder of my drink and take the cue out of his hands. He raises a brow to my bold move. Pressing my lips to his, he tastes like cigarettes, whiskey, and bad decisions to my nefarious mind. I giggle against his lips and pull back. Part of me feels like I am watching from above but another part feels alive in a way I’ve never felt.

“Come with me,” I whisper in his ear and slink into the dark corner.

Taking his hand behind my back, I set my eyes on the nearest exit. A busboy shoves through the back door and dusts his hands. He jumps with our proximity. The man behind me stretches his arm, catching the door before it closes and nudges me into the crisp night.

A metallic click garners my attention as a flame sparks from the man’s lighter. He brings it to his cigarette, inhaling deeply with a sigh. The brick wall bites against my back and my eyes rove over him. A knife sits strapped to his belt. Another surge of power radiates through me with a tingle. With its captivity, my lips and hands are no longer my own.

“How would you like a night fit to be your last?” I ask, my voice coming out with a raspy grit.

The man chuckles, blowing smoke from the side of his mouth. “And what is it that you’re offering?”

Pushing from the wall, I croon, “Demons are out to play tonight. I should know.”

His head jerks back with my statement as do I within the confines of my cage. This is all becoming too much.

The voice scratches in my mind, “Don’t worry little scaredy cat. I’m just having a bit of fun.”

“I don’t know what that is supposed to mean but I find you truly remarkable,” he says, caging me against the wall between his arms.

My fingers trail down his chest until they hit the knife’s hilt. Grabbing the cigarette from his mouth, I shove it into his chest as I rip the knife free from its sheath. Before he can react further than a scream, my hands go numb against the force commanding them. The knife shakes in my hand in the mere seconds it takes to plunge it into his throat. A choked gurgle slips between his lips and crimson coats my hands as he falls away.

A scream tears from low in my throat as my will becomes my own again. My stomach twists, emptying its contents on the pavement. Adrenaline flows free in my veins. Every part of me shakes with the setting reality. Looking back at the man, his eyes glass over with his last rasping breath rattling in his chest.

“Don’t be afraid.”

“No, no, no,” I screech as I take shaky steps away from his body. “This is insane. What did you do?”

“You were always so scared to go out because you never wanted to be trapped in an alley. I made you face your fear and you won.”

A powerful surge rushes me but I hold it at bay with my heartbeat as the precipice of my humanity. Glancing over my shoulder at the blessedly empty alleyway, I run into the night but my mind runs faster. My entire life crumbles around me. Every passing thought spirals out of control. Breaths hit my lungs without finding their exit. The pavement pounds against my feet, sending painful jolts through my ankles and knees as I sprint for the safety of home.

I crash through my front door, slamming it behind me and locking the door as if it will prevent the flood of my crimes finding me. The voice cackles. I trip over the stairs with every trembling leap.

I hesitate outside of the guest bedroom door and reach a rattling hand to the doorknob. Cracking it open with a wince, I peer inside. Empty. The girl has vanished. The voice laughs again.

“Vanished is a funny word to describe where I went.”

A squeak escapes my tightening throat. I knew there was something wrong with her. If only I listened to my intuition instead of letting her fool me with her innocent disguise. I rush to my bathroom, remembering my reflection before I left.

I open my mouth to scream but nothing comes out under the weight pressing against my chest. Black eyes stare back at me. Painful chills roll up my spine, each one acting as an alarm. I look at my hands, still coated in blood and scrub them in the sink. Ruby red flows into the water, slowly diluting itself the harder I try. I scratch at my skin in hopes to peel the flesh from my bones with the hurt they have caused. My hands, red and raw, scream with every new douse of soap and water. Even when they look clean, they are not. With labored breaths, I look in the mirror once more.

My lips move in my reflection, but I am not speaking. “See how much fun we have together?” Ophelia’s voice asks.

“Fun?” I shriek. “You call that fun? You killed a man and destroyed my life.”

“No, you killed a man. I make you untouchable—you will never be weak again,” she says as if I’ve wounded her.

“I don’t want this,” I yell to my distorted reflection. “Get out. Get out. Get out.”

I slam my hands over my ears and knock my head against the wall in tandem with my rapid heartbeat. An ache swells in the center of my forehead.

“We will become good friends, don’t you worry,” she says, the smile apparent in her voice.

Unable to bear the sight of my monstrosity any longer, I run into my bedroom. The first rays of dawn peek through my curtains, warming the walls with flickers of light. Shadows snake from my chest. The slick, oily feeling disperses, only allowing guilt and shame to remain.

“I must leave with the morning. Fret not. I will see you tomorrow night, my new friend,” Ophelia croons.

Ice runs through my heart, hitching my lungs with her promise. I collapse into my bed exhausted by the horror I endured under her command. She lives in the night. I can’t bear another night—another second—with that demon. A cure, I must find a cure. Libraries. Therapists. Churches. Witches. One of them has to have an answer.