Too Deep

Chapter 1

I stare at the clock, tapping my foot in time with each tick the clock makes. My mind wanders to far off places and dangerous ideas when I'm in my room, staring at my clock. The clock is my escape, an escape better than a book in my hands. I stare at the clock, I get bored, and I stop thinking. One thought I had scared me slightly when it first came. How could I have known, how could anyone have known, that I was right?
When we dream, our mind doesn't make up the faces we see during the dream. (That much I already knew to be true). So say that you're dreaming of a demon, monster, whatever. Horns protruding from it's head and curling at the center with a point so sharp it could pierce skin with the most gentle touch. Eyes with no irises, only pupils, all black. Fanning out from the eyes are actual flames that can burn through the thickest skin. Knarled teeth that smile a bit too widely. Arms so long they touch the floor. Legs like that of a goat's that bend in odd places. Flaring nostrils that intimidate even the toughest man. Fingers with long claws. Tattered white shirt, brown fur covering the legs and the rest of the body is a red so dark, it's almost complete black. Wings a leatgery black, hortid and twisting at all angles. Imagine that with about eight others, all more frightening than the last. If you dream about that, does it mean you've seen all nine of those monstrosities?
That is exactly what I dreamed the night before and now I look at my clock wondering if it's possible. Maybe I had seen them, but my mind is trying to protect me and the only way I can remember seeing them is through my dreams? It's possible. Too possible. I break my gaze at the clock when I hear my mom calling me downstairs to eat. "Anise! Dinner!"
I walk down the stairs in a daze, having already forgotten my previous theories.
A Papa John's cheese pizza was in the middle of the table. Mom smiled at me as she layed two paper  plates on opposite sides of the table. I sat down in front of one plate and she sat across from me.

"I'm scared," I said later that day, seconds after my mom had stopped me from killing someone.
I know, what could happen in one day that would make you nearly kill a person!? Is what you're wondering. Well, a lot can happen.

I was grabbing a slice of cheese pizza and putting it on a paper plate. Mom smiled again and said, "how was school?"
Of course I wasn't going to tell her me and my friend, Marcel, skipped that day. "It was fine."
"Your dad came by today."
I put my hands in my lap immediately and clenched them together, my knuckles turning white. It took all that I had not to start panicking or getting angry. Mom would get worried.

My parents got divorced when I was eleven, five years ago. They fought. Constantly. He would get drunk and come home, demanding something she couldn't do and they would break out in an argument. They would pay no attention to me, standing just outside the room, until he would slap her. Then she would look around for a minute, spot me and tell me to go to my room. One fateful day, he vanished for two weeks and came back smelling of smoke and alcohol. Apparently him leaving us was mom's breaking point. She told him to leave and never come back. Of course he wouldn't. He said he "wouldn't leave his daughter to be raised by a phsyco maniac." She got out her rifle and told me to leave. He ended up leaving without one bullet in his skin.
For the first year after that, he would come back, drunk, about once or twice a week. He would say that he needs to be with us, needs to make up for what he'd done. We paid no attention. After a year, he stopped and we were relieved. This was the first time in five years he'd made an appearance.

"Did he come here, to the house?" I plastered my best fake smile on my face.
"Yes. We actually talked for about thirty minutes."
"That's great. What did you talk about?"
Her smile faltered. "We, uh, we talked about what he's been up to. He's married again."
I looked at her suspiciously. "Good."
A crash of thunder made me look up. Mom hurriedly cleaned up the plates and table, even though we both only took a few bites out of our pizza slices.
"Go get ready for bed darling."
I looked at the digital clock on the refrigerator. "It's seven."
"Don't you have a test tomorrow? The earlier you go to sleep the better."
"Then shouldn't I--"
"Bed."
I got up, pushed my chair in and threw her a pleading look. What the hell was up with her? She shook her head, as if reading my mind, and I trudged up the birch stairs.
When I shut the door to my room, I yelped. A figure was hunched over my bed. I took a step closer, but it was gone. Am I seeing things?
I walked to my bed, a bit warily, and curled up on my pillows. I squeezed my eyes shut and listened to the ticks of my clock. I gently tapped my left foot in sync with the ticks of the clock. A chill ran up my spine. Someone was definitely in here.
I keep weird things under my pillows for reasons I've forgotten and I never remember to remove those items. I slipped one hand under a pillow and found a knife. Perfect. I carefully sealed the hilt with my hand. I flung my hand out and sprang to a standing position. I looked around. At first, nothing seemed out of the ordinary, until my eyes raked past my window and saw something jerk in front of it. I looked at the window and saw a figure shrouded in a hoodie. I practically leapt to the window and the person didn't have time to move away. They grabbed my arm and flung me backwards. I guess they had time to do that. I stumbled back and groaned when my lower back hit the corner of my desk. The person made for the window, evidently discovering they made a bad choice by coming, but I wouldn't let him leave. I grabbed the his hood and pulled it back. My hands flew to my mouth to stifle a yell of anger. "Dad," I choked out.
He turned around and his eyes widened. He smiled.
"What are you doing here?"
"Your mom and I talked today, and u just wanted to see you guys and I--"
"Are you drunk? Again?"
"No, I--"
"No. You have no reason to be here. Get out."
"I just want to see my family."
"You have one. You got married." He was definitely drunk.
"No. Why would you think that?"
He's lying, or mom is. It's him, for sure. Mom would never lie. "What did you and mom talk about today?"
"I told her I want custody of you."
"And?"
"She said no." I belive that.
"Than why are you here?"
He gulped. "I thought you should be the one to choose."
"No you didn't. Why. Are. You. Here."
"I wanted it to be fair."
"Full answer dad."
"You need to be somewhere else where you belong."
"I belong here you drunk. Get out."
"You don't get it."
"Now."
"You don't belong here."
"Out."
"Come with me. Your mom doesn't think you should be among people who are like you."
"Get out!"
"Anise. You belong somewhere else."
"Get the hell out of my room! Get out if our life! Get out of our house!" I was practically screaming now.
He was nearly swimming with joy. He was grinning widely.
I heard footsteps running up the stairs. Someone opening the door. "Kile! Stop, you're going to get her angry!"
Mt fingers tightened around the knife. I didn't get what was going on right now, but I did know I hated my dad with every last part of myself. I despised him. I needed him gone.
"You're mom doesn't get you. She doesn't understand what you are. She's afraid of what you are. If you come with me, nobody will be afraid of what you are."
He was confusing me too much. What I am? I'm nothing special. Why would mom be afraid. I needed him to stop.
"Stop it!"
"Come on Anise." He was smiling from ear to ear.
"STOP IT!" I felt myself rise off the ground. The world took on a red tint. I could feel my nails extending, something sprang out from my back, I didn't know what was going on, but it made me happy. I flew at him but he tumbled out of the way, laughing. I sent a fireball at him, but he dodged it.
He was out of sight. Where is he? "Come on Kile," I hissed. "You belong out here, where I can see you." My eyes darted past my mirror, then trailed back when I caught a glimpse of something terrifying. It was the demon I'd described earlier that day, when I was staring at the clock. I was petrified. I flew away then looked to where I thought the demon was. It wasn't there.
I flew back to the mirror. I saw it again and screamed.
I was the demon.

I opened my eyes. Mom was standing over me. I blinked. Once. Twice. Why did she look panicked? "Anise..."
Her voice shook, it was almost as if she were afraid. Of me. Why? Then it all came rushing back. I tried to kill my dad. I was a demon.
I starting sucking in quick, large breaths. She just calmly stood there. Why wasn't she helping me? Why is she not doing anything? Why was shr acting so calm?
"Mom, mom I'm scared. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I-- Did you know?"
She suddenly looked alarmed. I sat upright, waiting patiently for her to say no.
"Well, um... yes."
There it was, with one word, she made me despise her. I felt hatred, and I welcomed it. I loved it. I could feel those leathery wings burst out from my back, horns growing out of my head. I felt claws leave my fingertips and the world went red.
She gasped and stumbled away as I flew up and smiled huge pointed teeth at her. She screamed.
I looked in the mirror again and saw a demon attacking my mom. I wanted the demon to stop. I loved mom. I forced my claws and wings to retract. I blinked and the world was in its normal hue. I forced my teeth to go back to normal. I landed on the ground. I felt my horns leave when I landed.
The only way I could protect my mom and everyone at school from the demon was to leave. I had to leave, I had to go with dad. "Is dad still here?" My voice trembled.
She took another step away and nodded then pointed out into the hall. I stood up on shaking legs and slowly walked out. He was standing there with his arms crossed on his chest and a huge smile playing on his face. "You're coming?" I nodded.
"Don't you want to bring anything?"
I did. I walked slowly back into my room. Mom was sitting in the bed, crying. I turned to face the wall and took my clock down. I put it under my arm and walked out again. He cocked an eyebrow. I walked down the stairs, him following behind me.
"Time for you to meet others like you."