The Other Demon

Brother-Sister Bonding

Demetria's P.O.V.:

"Don't be afraid, Demetria. Show them the roots of your training," the male voice whispers cynically, echoing through the darkness. "Kill them."

The scene changes from black, to red, finding myself back in Hell. In front of me are all three of them: Mother, Grandfather, and Damian. Mother and Damian are tied up on their knees, next to Grandfather, who's wearing a smirk. Mother and Damian's eye look up to me, with fear and plea in their eye. 

"What are you doing?!" I scream, but they don't seem to hear me.

Trying to talk to them, a body fazes through me. Watching as the body fazes through me, it walks up to Mother and Damian with a sword in hand. Stopping in front of them, the figure turns back to me. My eyes widen in fear, I'm looking at myself. The figure begins to take into its full shape, creating an exact replica of me, from head to toe. The same black hair, green eyes, Renegade suit, everything down to the bone. 

"Kill them," Grandfather demands.

The replica version of me smirks at me while responding to Grandfather's request. "Of course, Grandfather. Together, we shall rule."

"No!" I cry out, reaching my arm towards Mother and Damian. I try to run to them, but I'm planted in my position.

While staring at me, the replica swings her sword, and in one swing, both of them fall. Blood seeps out of the deep slice on their neck. Grandfather laughs and walks over to the clone and puts a hand on her shoulder. "Good job." He looks me into the eyes while placing a hand on the replica. "Once a killer, always a killer."

My eyes shoot open in fear. I sit up straight gasping for air, putting a hand over my heart, trying to calm myself. "Just a dream," I say to myself, putting my rapid-beating heart to ease. Slowly breathing in and out, I look to my side where Damian lays asleep. I lean in on his body and poke his cheek. Without a response, I panic and poke his cheek again. He grumbles and flips onto his side, snoring loudly. I sigh in relief knowing that the overdose hasn't killed him. I look over to the digital clock on the nightstand reading, 3:18.

"Only two hours, that's a record," I tell myself. Knowing well that I can't fall back to sleep after that, I swing my feet over my bed and sit there, staring at the closed door. "Maybe a glass of water will do." I push myself off of the bed and head to the kitchen. As I walk to the kitchen, I find myself in a trance, caused by the soft pelting of raindrops on the manor's windows. Lightning illuminates the rooms and halls as I walk through them, the thunder adding emphasis on the ominous, yet calming environment. 

Reaching the kitchen, I notice a figure sitting at the family table, near the counter. Stopping near the doorway, I stare at the figure. It looks like a man, well-built, and eating Alfred's leftover steak. I think that's Father. But before I could call him out, I notice the way the figure is eating. The man is eating like he hasn't eaten in days, I would have always assumed that if Father was ever in that type of situation, he would have a little more decency.

I open my mouth to call out Father, but then lightning illuminates the room. The short moment of light reveals a strange older male, not my Father. The man looks in my direction, our eyes making contact. Another flash of lightning appears, and the man's eyes widen then furrow. In that short moment of meeting, my guts tell me that he's bad news. The moment the flash of light fades back to dark, I sprint and jump onto the table, grabbing the knife he was using to cut his steak, holding it up against his neck. Thunder and lightning go off again, illuminating the room. Our eyes bore into each other's trying to inflict fear into the other, but our actions catch us off guard. As I hold a steak knife to his neck, the man holds a gun to my head.