Page 3 of Demonic Cage
“You can fail on a simple language course too,” my mother comments suddenly.
The smile fades from my face as the weather gets cooler. She can only bring up my mistakes. Of course, she couldn’t phrase it as a general possibility of failure, she had to highlight my university major. The medication has always suppressed my attention, and my brain is slower to memorize things. I’m not as smart and quick-witted as my sister, Maya, who excels in Law at Oxford. I’m stuck in my rich parents’ house in Luxembourg, settling for a simple language major.
This is exactly why it hurts when Mum only highlights my flaws, and let’s admit it, there are quite a few.
From the corner of my eye, I look at my father, hoping he might defend me, but having never done so before, he doesn’t do so now. With narrowed eyes, he looks at the grave, as if trying not to hear.
His betrayal hurts more than Mum’s words, and she glances at her watch every thirty seconds, staring into the distance asif mentally already at her workplace. As if it doesn’t matter whether she’s here or not.
I clench my fist, and hiss as the bandage covering my bruised wrist tightens. A drop of blood falls to the ground, as if in slow motion, and I watch it reach the poison-green grass. I close my eyes, the cemetery trembling for a moment. My throat dries up as I think of my medication, and my tongue almost burns, longing to take some.
I grasp my wrist with my other hand, as if the touch could lessen the pain of the wound. My gaze intertwines with my mother’s, who, with her icy blue eyes, gazes for a moment at my bandage. She blinks a few times, swallowing hard. Tears fill her eyes, but her facial muscles barely move.
For a moment, I stand here like a child, waiting for my mother to smile and ask if the wound hurts. However, Mom’s facial muscles prevail, and her tears are absorbed as though they were never there. Her gaze shifts from my wrist to my dyed blonde-purple hair, as if she needs proof that I’m not normal. As if she pitied me because of the wound, but then my hair reminds her of how much I am not to her liking. From her stern expression, I already know what she’s going to say before she speaks.
“Couldn’t you find a solution for this?”
I nod toward my wrist, and as uncomfortable as the wound is, her words hurt even more.
Solution.
Because I am a problem that needs to be solved.
I don’t know why the cemetery starts to wobble again, why I see a dark fog at the edge of my field of vision, and why I can hear my heartbeat in my ears. I got exactly what I expected. It’s as though something is piercing through my heart again, but this pain is dull now, not sharp, as if it has been with me for a long time.
I feel my mouth filling with saliva, but as I swallow, my throat is dry. In the meantime, I try to hold back the anger and hurt trembling beneath my skin.
Silently, I meet my mother’s gaze. I don’t know what to say. My breathing quickens as I try to handle the situation, but there’s so much emotion inside me that I just can’t… I simply can’t.
A small growl escapes my throat, and turning on my heel, I leave them behind. I don’t even say goodbye to Bengt – he has surely seen enough from above, watching his sister fail every day. That’s how I console myself. That he’s in another world, where he’s happy. Happier than me.
I don’t even know that I’ve been running until the wheezing in my lungs stops me. I look around in confusion, not understanding how I could have made it behind the hill without realizing it.
I pinch the bridge of my nose and bow my head. I need the medication. But I don’t want to be crazy. I don’t want it anymore; I don’t want that life, I don’t want…
The wind becomes so strong that the hair on my skin stands up. It throws me off balance. I grab onto a massive trunk and hear a piercing whistling sound. I look in the direction the noise is coming from and have to blink to comprehend the sight. A shadow ripples on the ground and the whistling creeps into my ear like in a horror movie. As the shadow slowly takes shape, my eyes widen.
No, no, no, no! Not this!Why does it have to come out now? The peculiar wind lifts the leaves, seeming to whisper silent promises to me. Fear anchors me to the ground. The hunched shadow straightens up, and I can already imagine the sharp teeth, the skinless black skull, and how it will extend its long, black tongue towards me. The air is forced out of my chest as though I’ve been hit.
“I’m just imagining, just imagining, just imagining,” I whisper to myself. I dig my nails into the rough bark of the tree, a cold bead of sweat slowly trickling down my neck. I can’t run away. Even if I tried, I wouldn’t be faster than it. I have never been faster than it.
The shadow straightens up, black smoke enveloping its face. The smoke slowly dissipates, but instead of the ugly, black skull, a silver-haired, gray-eyed man stands in front of me. He is perhaps the most beautiful being I have ever seen.
I open my mouth in surprise as we gaze at each other. The man’s eyes are like storm clouds; gray and misty, as if centuries of wisdom are concealed within them. Yet, due to his smooth face, I guess he’s only towards the end of his twenties. Maybe thirty. His mouth, barely open, is dull. I immediately imagine the tingling sensation his touch would leave. I’m surprised that such thoughts come to mind in this situation. I don’t understand what’s happening to me.
The man’s skin is snow-white – even paler than mine, which is hard to surpass. He is so tall that I have to lift my head when he approaches. He is entirely dressed in black, and thin tattoos peek out from under his dark T-shirt, winding around his muscular biceps. His sculpted physique resembles that of a leopard. He looks like a predator, evaluating every moment.
He smiles at me as if enjoying that I shamelessly eyed him earlier. Our gazes meet, and the air seems to spark between us, turning my face hot all the way to my ears. The man’s eyes scan my face, and he tilts his head sideways like a snake. I have no idea why I find this horribly attractive. Suddenly, I think about how perfectly his hand would fit on my hip, and how his muscular shoulder would provide security if he embraced me.
He looks at me like I am a secret to be deciphered. Or possibly, a predator regarding its prey. Every fiber of my body ignites wherever his gaze reaches. His eyes stop at my hand.I look awkwardly at my wrist, hissing. I forgot to cover the wound, and the bandage is soaked. I awkwardly adjust the white gauze, when something flashes through me quickly. I freeze for a moment, as if my whole body is turning into ice.
Just my imagination.
The medication has always helped suppress the monsters. The more I took, the less I saw them. This shadow before me… he…
“Who are you, human girl?” The man’s deep voice interrupts my train of thought, and I blink as I look at him. It would be nice to have someone with that voice commanding me in the dark. I shake my head, hoping I can carry on with my thoughts, but I fail. Instead, I fantasize about the man whispering into my ear with his deep voice. A shiver runs down my spine, and desire gradually raises the hairs on my skin. I clear my throat.
Sighing heavily, I wave towards the imagined man.
