Mike's world, once a brightly lit space of youthful optimism, had contracted to the size of his own fear. At nineteen, the innocence that had once defined his bright smile was now a stark contrast to the terrifying reality that had unfolded. He had become a pawn, a vessel for forces beyond his comprehension.
While communities often prepared their young adults, those teetering on the edge of adulthood (ages 17-25), for the challenges of life through various rites of passage, Mike's transition was anything but ordinary. A profound transformation had taken hold, compelling him to act in ways that defied his own will. Unbeknownst to those around him, he was succumbing to the influence of a malevolent entity, a demon with a singular, destructive purpose.
His father, John, a man who saw only his son's brave, innocent eyes, struggled to reconcile the boy he knew with the unsettling occurrences. He defended Mike fiercely, dismissing concerns raised at school, in their neighborhood, and even within their home. A teacher recounted how Mike's books and pens would inexplicably levitate across the classroom, a chilling spectacle that unnerved his classmates. John, however, remained unconvinced, shaking his head in quiet disagreement, unable to accept the evidence before him.
These unsettling incidents were merely preludes to a far more harrowing event, one that would shatter John's world and plunge him into profound suffering.
On a sun-drenched Wednesday, likely a public holiday, Mike and his mother, Abbey, were embarking on a drive. Abbey's face, usually alight with a happy, infectious glow, reflected the simple joy of their journey in their Prado X10. As they approached a busy intersection, where traffic lights dictated the flow, a group of onlookers, including news broadcasters and journalists caught in the jam, witnessed an impossible sight.
Dough, a friend of John's, was among them. He blinked, convinced his eyes were deceiving him, but the scene remained. A chilling memory flashed through his mind: Abbey, his friend's wife, seemed to shimmer and dissolve into nothingness, replaced by Mike, his young son, now at the wheel. "Impossible!" Dough whispered, his voice strained. He steered his own car to the side of the road, parking abruptly.
He rushed back to the intersection, only to find the lights had turned green, and traffic was moving again. The car Mike had been in was now proceeding down the road, alone. "Shit," he muttered, the word catching in his throat. Many others had seen the anomaly, but attributed it to personal delusion or a fleeting dream. All they could do was stare as the vehicle, seemingly driven by an unseen force, turned onto a side road and came to a stop.
Dough, his gaze fixed on the car, followed its path. He sprinted towards it. As he neared, the vehicle inexplicably lurched upwards, accelerating wildly and uncontrollably before crashing violently into a sturdy tree trunk. Dough was left reeling, a cascade of questions flooding his mind. He cautiously approached the wreckage. There, amidst the debris, he found Mike, dazed and with minor injuries, but alive and conscious. Dough quickly ushered him into his own car and sped towards Peace Hospital, the weight of the inexplicable event pressing down on him.