12: Death-row Prisoner

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POV Seth

Seth succumbed to the silent terror of his situation.

He stared at the frosted reinforced glass barrier that separated him from his freedom. He couldn't think. He couldn't speak. He felt hollow.

The guards that were promised had yet to arrive. Not that he'd know for sure. They separated him from the main security station in a pod of six narrow cells.

As for food, he had three whole food cubes to his name, which was everything that the former soldier had on him, promising more, though no mention of when. If Seth ate one food cube every other day, he'd survive the week, but without water, he wouldn't last that long.

The shock was too much. His mind kept glitching between the heavy-handed dominance of his therapist and the implications that she had been getting away with it for some time. But why kill him? That's the part that made no sense.

He felt stupid. He felt stupid for thinking he could play her game. He felt stupid for believing that he was playing her game at all. Though he had managed a few satisfying jabs, it all meant nothing. The idea rattled him as the artificial lights dimmed, leaving him in complete darkness.

It was rare to be in complete darkness. It was common knowledge that demons feared the light. All modern spaces were fashioned with dimming light-strips that ran along the base of the walls.

Normal people would have panicked in the darkness. They had every reason to fear the things that could not be seen. Seth had grown accustomed to it. It hadn't been the first time he was forced into a tight enclosure for disobedience. The Council's cell was nicer, twice the size, and cleaner.

He listened to the unfamiliar sounds of nothing. He feared that if he listened hard enough, he just might hear something unwanted, but he couldn't help himself. Sometimes, just sometimes, he'd hear the soft clinking of chimes caught in a soft breeze. Sound of any sort attracted demons; everyone knew that much. Come nightfall, you spoke only if necessary. Silence was the rule.

He was alone. Forgotten.

*****

Early dawn poured through the skylight in the hall, gliding down the frosted glass barrier of his cell.

He hadn't slept a wink. How could he? Demons liked to nibble on him in his sleep.

The REM inhibitors were the only things keeping them away. The REM inhibitor element of his medication was only a side effect of his father's failed experimental vaccine.

The prominent theory was that some people attracted demons to them. It was a theory that the Red Order fed on, and society had no qualms supporting. The fear of drawing demons to civilized areas was so strong that mobs had turned on survivors, leaving their bloodied remains well outside the outskirts of town.

Seth knew firsthand that the demons craved the scent of death and savagery. His no-kill style of command, though deeply unpopular, was developed because, in combination with his genetic curse, he didn't want demons drawn to the school because of his actions. He was certain that they'd pop-out of every nook and cranny just to feed on his spoils.

Doctor Wright took a different perspective on Seth's condition. He theorized Seth suffered from a genetic anomaly that made him more desirable than other humans. Seth dared not utter the word curse in front of his deeply rational father. He dared not express any feelings at all.

One day, the demons stopped coming, rendering him useless in his father's research. One might think that the experimental vaccine had worked, but that hadn't been the case at all.

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