I was supposed to have a fresh start. And yet, no matter where I was, trouble followed. In Rose Chapel, I was the freak whose mother tried to exorcise him. In Cambridge, I was the new kid who supposedly thought he was better than everyone.
Alexander circled me slowly before snatching my bag, using it to yank me backwards until I stumbled to the floor, the sound of laughter flaming my cheeks. I stood, hands curling into fists, the Devil chantingkill, kill, kill.
“Why are you doing this?” I asked.
I did not understand what I had done to warrant such a response. The way Alexander looked at me suggested there was something I was missing.
“We’re just playing,” he shrugged.
“Well, I don’t like this game.”
“Too bad.”
“Leave me alone.”
Alexander placed a hand on my chest and shoved me backwards. “Or what?”
I used to run away from boys like him. The little boy from St Augustine’s would have scurried to the safety between bookshelves. But my father had taught me how to defend myself, how to be a Son of Thunder.
Kill, kill, kill.
My fist connected with his cheek before my leg swung up to slam into his stomach.
Collapsing to his knees, Alexander groaned, arms around his stomach as he leaned forward, coughing.
Good boy, Augustus.
The praise should have felt good, but as I watched a single tear slide down Alexander’s cheek, all I felt was empty.
Knuckles throbbing, I retreated toward the nearest bathroom, weary of entering due to all the mirrors above the line of sinks.
I entered with my head down, relieved to find the bathroom empty. Hands trembling, I reached for the tap, wincing as the cool water slipped through the small cracks of my skin.
The confrontation with Alexander was stupid. I did not understand what I had done to offend him. And Aunt Vera…what punishment would await me when I got home?
A light bulb shattered, the bathroom exploding in a flash of yellow before darkness swallowed the room.
My head whipped up in alarm, gaze falling upon the mirror as though drawn there by an invisible force. In the infinite pools of darkness, my reflection grinned.
Hello, little monster.
I splashed water onto my face, closing my eyes to shut out the Devil in the mirror.
His laughter filled the room, a symphony of terror flooding my veins. Why was he here? Why did he haunt me? Was I truly so evil that the Devil himself was attached to my soul?
I lifted my head to confront him.
Black eyes blinked through the droplets of water falling from my eyelashes, a sinister hum echoing along the bathroom tiles. It mirrored a lullaby, one my mother would sing as she cradled me to sleep.
My reflection opened its mouth with fanged teeth stained with blood. It trickled down my chin in endless streams, the tap, tap, tap of it filling the sink echoing inside my head.
I did not look away. I had to face him. There was only so much running a twelve-year-old boy could do.
“What do you want?” I whispered.
To help you.
I narrowed my eyes.
