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Chapter 8

**Warning, This story contains dark scenes with graphic detail that some readers may find distressing. **

The water was like ice as I dipped my burning hands inside the river. I heard a hiss and pulled my hands out. To my relief, my hands were no longer blazing. But how? My stupid mind. Maybe I am crazy and belong in the mental home. I mean hands on fire? It wasn’t real. I laughed, a hysterical laugh. Maybe it was just the trauma of the day. When my stomach began to hurt, that’s when the tears came, like a dam that had been broken they streamed from my eyes. I was alone. Where I didn’t know. It was dark and trees was all I could see. Only embers of the fire remained, restricting my vision more.

What else could I do but walk and hope I find a way to at least a street. The sounds of crunching leaves were all I could hear. My breath came out in puffs, a cold of fog. I used to love autumn. The colours, nature. Now I was rethinking that. Every so often I could swear I could hear something moving behind me. But I wasn’t sure. Maybe it was just the story that Taylor had told me, perhaps it scared me a little. More than a little now that I find myself in the woods.

I was so cold, my whole-body shook. Each step sent pain through my bones. The only thing I could do was keep walking, and pray that the heat would soon chase the cold away.

Finally, I saw light. It was faint, but there. I quickened my pace and within minutes I emerged onto a empty street. Maybe I’d freeze to death before I ever reached the hellhole, I had to call home. Flashing blue lights suddenly came speeding towards me, within a second it had sped by. Then I heard the screeching of tires and turned around just in time to see my uncle’s big frame climb out the driver’s door. “Shit, shit” I muttered as he stormed the few feet towards me. As he got closer, I saw the anger in his eyes. For a moment I could have sworn it reflected that of a scared child. I thought I could see the pain beneath his soul, carved into the persona he had created to fit his title the sheriff. Perhaps it was just my pain and fear reflecting in his eyes.

He grabbed by the throat and lifted me inches from the ground. “You little slut.” He spat in my face. I was struggling to breath and clawed at his hands. “Think you can just wonder the streets?” I vision began to blur and each breath was like inhaling glass, sharp and painful.

“You are nothing but a little prostitute. Selling your self for money.” He dropped me like trash, and I fell in a crumbled mess to the floor. I tucked my legs up into a fatal position as he made a hacking sound. I turned my head just slightly to see him spit on me. I was too tired and emotionally drained to do or say anything, so I just laid there. Wishing and hoping death would take me. I wasn’t that lucking. Instead, his boot came flying towards the back of my head and stars danced in my vision, before the darkness took me under its wing.

Pain, so sharp. My eyes snapped open. I was pinned down, a weight on my back holding me in place. I cried out and a hand slapped me in the face. I felt my lip swell and tasted the coppery taste of blood. “Shut up you little slut.” It was Uncle Robert. The hiss of his words installed fear into me unlike I’d ever felt before. Then the pain started again, sharp burning pain. I hissed. Biting my swollen lip to keep myself from crying out. My lower back felt like it was on fire.

The pressure from my lower back was released. I didn’t lift my head. I didn’t have the energy nor the will power. Uncle Robert gripped my hair and pulled my head from the pillow that was wet with my tears. I didn’t look at him rather past him. I was in my bare room.

“Now everyone will know what you are.” He smirked, letting go of my hair and marching out of the room. My head dropped back to the pillow. But I didn’t cry. I had no more tears left to cry. Slowly, I turned over and faced the wall. Just staring into space. I had no thoughts. My mind was just blank. I was just empty, numb.

“You don’t need a Gateway to Hell. You’re already there.” The voice was demonic. It held a slight echo and was unnaturally deep. I turned over, wanting my crazy mind to just stop. Monsters weren’t real, fire shooting from my hands wasn’t real.

I opened and closed my eyes. Yet the red glowing eyes remained locked on mine. “Hell is waiting for you. Come home.” The demonic voice almost sang in a slow low tune.

“Home, I don’t have a home.” I whispered to the glowing embers that seemed to float in the dark.

“Daughter of Darkness. Daughter of Hell, Mother and Queen of all demons. We are waiting for you.” I laughed and then began to cough. My throat was sore and horse.

“No one is waiting for me. I am alone and always will be.” I whispered back.

“They will pay. All those that ever hurt you will pay.” I watched the eyes come closer. I wasn’t afraid. In fact, I felt safe. Skin was peeling off and dried crusty blood caked a deformed body. Back hunched and legs like tree stumps. As my eyes moved up to the head, I let out a little gasp. Two horns protruded from a face that looked like it had been in a fire, three times over.

“A Gift, for you.” The red eyed deformed thing bowed, then placed something over my head.

“Sleep now, Daughter of Darkness.”

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