by Con Template
He shook his head at me, his fists clenching at the sound of my indifferent voice. He no longer made it a point to hide his disgust towards me. He hated me. Everything about me repelled him. Everything about me angered him. Everything about me was inhuman to him.
Desperate to further exonerate myself when I saw that he still didn’t believe me, I hastened to add, “Plus, I’m scared of blood. How could I kill them?” I sheepishly smiled after another realization thrust into my mind. “Today is my birthday and I’m really hungry. Can you take me home now so I can have some cake?”
I thought Officer Joo would cooperate and take me home after I told him this, but I was dead wrong. In a matter of seconds, something within him snapped. He glared at me, his eyes wide with fury.
“Then who, Grace?!” he roared. The bomb he held in finally detonated with my innocuous question. He was sick of me. He was sick of me breathing the same air as him and he was sick of my existence. “Who else could’ve been in that house? It was you! Just you, Grace!”
A swarm of chills attacked me. I felt my entire body shake in fear. I stopped kicking my legs and rounded my eyes in horror. What had gotten into him? Why was he screaming at me? All this time, I had only told him the truth. I didn’t know anything. Why should I confess or show guilty emotions for things that I took no part in?
“Officer Joo! Can’t you see that you’re scaring her? Calm down!” my lawyer shouted. He also feared for my safety. Sensing that this situation was getting too problematic, my lawyer bolted from his seat and raced for the door to get an officer inside to restrain Officer Joo.
“Do you have no soul?” Officer Joo bellowed just as my lawyer shouted out into the police precinct for someone to intervene and help. Bloodlust seeped into Officer Joo’s eyes. “How could you murder your own family and sit there with such indifference?”
His own statement was the last straw that convinced him he needed to take care of me himself. With a roar that could rival a lion’s, his big hands bloomed outwards. His ten fingers splayed open, all hungry for a taste of my neck.
“Ahhhhhhh!” I screamed when he lunged for me, the desk between us barreling into my chest at full force.
Boom!
The air slammed out of me, causing me to cradle my chest in agony. The impact of getting hit by the table was so powerful that the chair I was sitting on was knocked over, throwing me off its seat and into the air. Just as I fell, I heard another thunderous growl. I glanced up and saw that the table had been tossed aside. Before I could see anything else, a pair of big hands wrapped around my neck like a vise, clogging up any screams I could emit. I didn’t even get a chance to hit the ground when Officer Joo grabbed my neck mid-fall and held me prisoner in the air.
My lungs struggled for a gasp of breath while I kicked my small legs in midair. My chest locked up in panic, and I helplessly clawed at his hands. I couldn’t breathe. The pain of being strangled was nothing like I had ever experienced. I was in agony; I was literally shaking in agony. Tears gathered in my eyes at the excruciating pain. That was when I realized he would never let me out alive.
He was a single pressure away from snapping my neck apart when a sudden gush of air flew past me. In a split second, Officer Joo was forcefully pulled away from me and sent flying to the other side of the room like he was whipped by an unstoppable typhoon.
Boom!
Without his grip holding me captive, gravity became my savior. I took my first intake of air after I fell back onto the hard ground.
“No! That’s enough! That’s enough!” I heard screams coming as police officers stampeded into the room. They became the barrier that kept Officer Joo from coming back for me.
While chaos and screams ensued on the other side of the room, all I could do was curl in a fetal position. Black spots blurred my vision while I helplessly cradled my assaulted neck. I felt the weight of the world lay on my eyelids. My eyes surrendered briefly to the weight before I managed to open them again. I could see my lawyer and several officers fighting to restrain Officer Joo.
“I’m going to kill you, you monster!” Officer Joo shouted, struggling to reach for me. His gold cross pendant bounced into sight while his eyes sought my blood. “I’m going to rip you to shreds!”
“It . . . wasn’t me,” I finally managed to say in broken whispers.
I was still desperate to proclaim my innocence.
The world around me spun. As though a spell of slumber had cascaded upon me, my eyes began to blur.
“Stop lying!” Officer Joo roared.
Round and round the world went as my eyes rolled to the back of my head. The imprint left in my mind was the sight of all the men restraining Officer Joo. I felt myself fall into the darkness. The final thing I heard before I completely lost consciousness were words that would forever haunt me.
“It was you! I knew it was you! It was just you, you little Demon!”
●●●
As the months passed and as the biggest trial of my life went on, my lawyers pleaded for the judge to help me. They all said I was crazy. I had to be crazy. What six-year-old in her right mind would kill her entire family?
I tried to convince them. I tried to convince everyone that I didn’t kill my family. But no one, not even my own lawyers, believed me. All the evidence pointed to me and the simple fact that I showed no emotions—no guilt—further proved to everyone that I had lost my mind.
“She needs psychiatric help,” my lawyer would argue for me, capitalizing on the fact that I was still a young child.
The trial ended, and that was what wound up happening.
I was sent to a psychiatric hospital for children and received the “help” I needed. For years they deluded my mind, telling me that I was indeed crazy and they could help me get better. “We can help make you normal again, Grace.”
That was the luxury you received as a six-year-old kid who had a substantial amount of fortune at her disposal. Even in the face of overwhelming evidence, I could still roam free as long as I gave people enough money to “help” me. It also helped that Officer Joo physically attacked me in the police station. The media-susceptive court of law is typically more receptive to allowing six-year-olds to go free if a fifty-year-old officer nearly choked the life out of her. All of this couldn’t be worse with her lawyer, the entire police station, and a video recording as witnesses as well. Whatever the case, I only had Officer Joo to thank for the lessening of my punishment . . .
As I sat in the psychiatric ward (a place that had quickly become my prison), I stared out the two-story barred window with a bored, apathetic expression on my face. I held a helpless butterfly that I had caught while playing in the gardens earlier, and I couldn’t help but allow my mind to venture on. I concluded then and there that I just wasn’t normal.
It was such an odd time for me.
Whenever thoughts of my family arose, there was never a part of me that felt anything for them. I knew I should have felt remorse, guilt, and confusion for what happened to my family, especially because everyone was telling me that I was the one who killed them. Truthfully speaking, I simply didn’t feel any of that. I felt nothing.
While feeling helpless and trapped with my station in life, and wanting to bestow the same feeling of misery onto another living being, I suddenly ripped the wings off the butterfly. Its little body squirmed relentlessly. Holding the appendage of the butterfly in boredom, my eyes honed on the landscape outside.
Sure, I missed my family, but it was more or less the equivalent of missing my security blanket. You needed it to keep you warm and make you feel secure, but when it’s gone, you don’t cry about it. You simply move on. It was horrible because I felt nothing when I knew I should have felt something for them. The funny thing was . . . it was just that part of my life too. For whatever reason, I honestly didn’t give a damn. It was like I had no soul for that aspect of my life.
I sighed tiredly and lifted the window up. I tossed the once magnificent butterfly out. Its bo
dy flapped uselessly when it hit the ground, the longevity of its life grim. Unaffected by the death sentence I had imparted to the innocent butterfly, my contemplating mind sailed on.
Even though I felt nothing for my family, I knew the right words to say to make my doctors believe that they were helping me. I knew they wouldn’t release me from that psychiatric hospital unless they felt I was getting better. Albeit there was nothing wrong with me to begin with, I knew what I had to do to get out. Everyday, I told them that I felt sad and guilty. And everyday, they would give me pills that I would always flush down the toilet and pretend that I was getting “better.”
That was my gift. I was a wonderful actress when I needed to be.
When they thought that they were successful, the hospital finally released me.
As I was the sole heir to my family’s fortune, it wasn’t difficult for me to find a place to live. From the age of sixteen and onwards, I led the life of an ordinary person. It wasn’t supposed to be easy for me to start life over since I had such a high profile case, yet, because everything seemed to fall into place and my anonymity remained intact, it all worked out in my favor. I was able to start anew with complete ease. It was as though a higher power was watching over me and making sure everything in my life went smoothly.
I was approaching my last year of college and was excited to graduate. I was thrilled to move on to bigger and better things. Everything was going great until I met someone who would change the course of my life.
A guy.
And not just any guy, but a Demon.
A sinfully gorgeous, chain-smoking Demon who not only had the charms to make a submissive soul out of you, but also the cunningness to make a prey out of you. A Demon who not only took a strong liking to me, but a Demon adamant on helping me unravel the secrets of my life.
“You have no idea how special you are, Gracie,” he once whispered, his voice soft like the sweetest velvet. “How meaningful your existence is.”
Although I knew nothing of what he was insinuating, he paid no mind to that. His voice beat with a knowledge that I didn’t have. He was confident that sooner or later, I would understand the contents of his words.
“But I’ll be your guide,” he assured me, his eyes holding mine with great promise. Then, he whispered words that would perpetually sear my curiosity and lead me down a journey that would forever change my life.
“I won’t only show you why Heaven cried the night of your birth, but I’ll also show you why Hell will kneel before you on the night of your resurrection.”
“There’s a Demon in all of us.”
01 : The Prince of Hell
The beginning of my end started on a cold October night in Seoul, Korea.
It was supposed to be a night like any other night. I was clubbing with my friends and like the carefree troublemakers we were (though debatably, I was anything but a troublemaker, just more of a bookworm), we were drunk off our asses. Well, my friends were. I was sober like still water.
Standing at a small stature of 5'2, excluding the five-inch heels I would wear to elevate my vertically challenged height, it was a wonder to anyone how someone like me could have such a high tolerance when it came to the consumption of alcohol. But pushing aside the impressiveness of my body's astounding ability to handle large intakes of alcohol, that night proved to be anything but normal for me.
With the blaring hip-hop music reverberating behind us, the cold crisp night waiting to engulf us, and the alcohol ready to devour us, our giggling selves clumsily ran into the wintriness of the night. Our balance was challenged every step of the way.
Being the most sober of the three, I made it a point to be the one holding on to my two friends as I walked them over to the silver cab we hailed. Truthfully, I had never been much of a partier. I preferred to spend my nights at home with a good book rather than outside partying. For the sake of appearing sociable, I agreed to go, knowing all too well that I would end up being the babysitter because I was the only one who could handle my liquor. This wasn’t an extracurricular activity that I happily took part in, but it was an obligation that I accepted nonetheless. I couldn’t fathom leaving my friends to fend for themselves—both against the alcohol or anyone who might be looking to take advantage of them in their inebriated state.
“Careful, Ara,” I whispered, opening the door to help Ara in. Her long auburn hair fell listlessly over her face when I tucked her head into the car.
Once she was fully situated in the back seat, I helped her scoot down the seat in order to make room for Dawn. I took one last precaution by tucking the hem of her red dress underneath her thighs. I then whipped around to face Dawn with the swiftest of speed. I had left her to fend for herself in the war against gravity. I knew fairly well that intoxicated Dawn wouldn't be able to hold on any longer. Gravity was going to win this “battle” unless I swooped in for the rescue.
“Oof! Your turn, Dawn . . .” I said breathlessly, catching her right before she befriended the black asphalt. Her tied up brown hair smacked me right in the eye. Biting my lips to hold back a curse, I struggled to hold her while silently praying that she wouldn’t vomit on me.
“Hahahahahaha.”
I hurled a sharp glare at the laughing cab driver. I understood that the sight of three beautiful girls drunk off their asses was an entertaining scene for bored eyes, but I wasn't in the mood to be mocked, especially by someone I was about to give a lot of money to.
My death glare eviscerated the smile from his face. After catching the scowl, the cab driver clamped his mouth shut, uncomfortably cleared his throat, and removed his eyes from my line of sight. He kept his focus solidified on the empty street before him.
As soon as I observed the fear in his eyes, a slight remorse overcame me. I berated myself for losing my composure and glaring at the poor man. What was I thinking? I sighed. Before permitting myself to succumb to regret, I reprioritized. At the moment, taking care of my friends took precedence over feeling guilt.
I returned my attention to Dawn. I discovered that she was still swaying dangerously in the limbo between lucidity and incoherence. The only difference in her appearance was that her eyes had turned into slits. She could scarcely keep herself awake. There was no question about it. The alcohol had undoubtedly taken over her body.
“Almost there,” I encouraged, helping her into the cab.
I turned to the cab driver after she was finally settled beside Ara.
Now intimidated by me, he did his best to avoid eye contact. An apologetic smile came over my face. I was feeling guiltier by the second for glaring at him. I was typically better at containing my temper. I lost myself briefly because Dawn and Ara had distracted me. I hoped he wouldn’t take my glare to heart.
I extended my hand out and offered him a piece of paper that had the prewritten address to the girls’ apartment. Along with their address was a thick wad of bills for the trip.
The cab driver cautiously grabbed the money and furrowed his brows in perplexity. He clearly thought the amount of money was too much for the short trip. His curious eyes locked on me as if saying, “You gave me too much money.”
“That's for the dinner they're going to throw up,” I answered in response to his unspoken confusion.
I closed the door and hauled ass before the cab driver had the chance to absorb the contents of my words. The last thing I needed was for him to refuse service to the girls in fear of them puking in his car.
Scurrying as quickly as my black Manolo Blahnik heels would allow me, I jumped onto the curb and let out a sigh of relief. Now that my responsibilities were done, I made my way home, the diamonds encrusting the straps of my heels blinking in pride every time the city lights kissed them.
Much like any other Saturday night, my neighborhood was busy with partygoers swaying about. They were drunk out of their minds, meandering the streets and looking for some fresh air before they honored another club with their presence. While they were elated with life, I was just p
lain exhausted.
I could sense that queasy feeling come alive within me again. It was the type of feeling that I dreaded; it was the type that demanded relief.
I shook my head at this annoying need within me. The curls of my long black hair swayed in the wind as I walked through the busy street, skirting around fellow pedestrians while surveying the block for someone who could help me with this unbearable unease.
My eyes lit up when I sighted an emaciated looking homeless man sitting in front of an under-construction building. His eyes barely open, he held his red cup out and asked the people walking by to spare some change. Another building down the block, I saw a group of semi-healthy looking homeless men sitting in the further corner of the alley.
I smiled to myself. I knew instantly that the old homeless man was the one I wanted to give my money to. He was the one to help mitigate this unbearable unease inside me.
I unzipped my wristlet and withdrew $600. I made my way over to him and deposited $100 into his cup. My hand briefly brushed his jacket, catching his attention.
“I hope this helps you out,” I said sweetly, staring down at him with kind eyes.
His once tired eyes enlarged. He peered up at me like I was an Angel in the night.
“Oh my God,” he responded a bit too loudly. He held the money up, examining it under the dim street lighting. After he concluded that his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him—that I actually gave him that much money—he began to bow his head in incessant gratitude. “Thank you! Thank you so much! God bless you!”
“No problem. Please take care of yourself. Have a really good night,” I told him, my jovial voice traveling to the alleyway where the other homeless men were.
Their curious eyes peered in our direction. Even as I waved at him, I could see the other homeless men’s eyes light up when they realized that the old man was holding up $100.
I walked away slowly, feeling a heavy constriction fill my chest. The silence of the night became overbearing for me as the constriction became more agonizing. My condition was starting to get worse. I placed a hand over my chest and could feel the lightheadedness take form. I was having trouble breathing when—