"This is your grandma's ashes. Keep it, sell it, dump it in the river—I don't care," The woman shoved a metallic urn against the boy's chest as if it were the ashes of a complete stranger, not someone who had once given birth to her.
The boy's thin arms quickly closed around it, holding it carefully. This was the remains of his grandmother, the only person whom he dearly loved.
He glared at the middle-aged woman in front of him. He was already a head taller than her now, yet somehow, she still made him feel small, like a child throwing a tantrum in front of an adult.
The middle-aged woman leaned on the wall beside her, puffing the smoke for a second before glancing at him. "What? Why are you giving me that look?"
"You should've been sadder, Aunt Dinah." The boy dwelled on that word, knowing how much she despised being addressed as such.
"I have no interest in shedding tears for Crazy Dorothy," Dinah spat coldly. "I've had no contact with that crazy old lady since I was sixteen. The only reason I came back is to sign a few papers about you, since you're now my responsibility, kind of."
Dinah looked away as the glare coming from the boy was even sharper than before, adding without hiding her resentment, "Dorothy kicked me out when I was sixteen. If she hadn't died, I'm sure that she would have also kicked you out of the house by this year. That's what she did to your late mother back then as well."
"So, don't waste your tears on that crazy woman. She's as good as dead to us," Dinah bluntly advised. But that didn't make the situation better.
Deciding it was pointless to convince him, she sighed, pulled out a folded letter, and handed it to him.
"This is one of her wills. You can stay in this house since it is technically yours. I'll leave a hundred fifty dollars every week until you turn eighteen. That's the best I can do for you," Dinah said before putting out her cigarette. She added with a scoff, "I don't know what's inside that letter, but knowing Dorothy, it's probably just one of her stupid nonsense about demons and the devil trying to get us all. So, don't take it to heart."
The boy clenched the letter so tightly that it wrinkled. She knew she wouldn't shake him off his stubbornness. After all, he had spent the last five years with that old woman after his mother's death.
"I'll come to visit you once a week as required, since I am your legal guardian now. Just don't make trouble at school. I have enough headaches as is," Dinah reminded him before she walked out of the house and left in her car.
The boy stared as his aunt left after putting a hundred fifty bucks on the kitchen counter. That money should be sufficient for him to live a somewhat okay life, as long as he didn't spend it on things other than food.
But that didn't matter to him, because right now, hunger was the least of his worries.
He had just relaxed after seeing his aunt leave when he heard a familiar yet strange voice that tore through his mind.
You don't need that money, do you? What's the point? You're alone.
It is time to kill yourself.
It started creeping in the night he found his grandmother lying in the kitchen with multiple stab wounds. The whispers kept tempting him to end his miserable life with each passing day. It even grew louder at night when the house was empty and he was alone.
And it only worsened when the investigation about his grandmother's death was taken lightly by the cops and the rest of the people in this small town.
They simply decided that Crazy Dorothy had finally done it.
The boy carried the urn into his grandmother's room and carefully placed it on top of the bedside cabinet. For a moment, he just stood there, staring at it, before finally sitting down on the edge of her bed.
In his hand was the letter she had left behind. These were her final words.
Arthur, my dearest grandson.
By the time you open this letter, it means I have already died with stab wounds all over my body.
The boy, Arthur, held his breath. He read the first line for the second time and felt his chest tighten. How could she have known exactly when she would die? Unless…
The letter continued.
Everyone may think that I've committed suicide, but that is far from the truth. I have been murdered by none other than the demon that had been hunting our family for a long time. And by now, it must already be whispering to you.
Arthur's grip on the paper trembled. The demon. Of course. His grandmother had spoken about it countless times.
On the very first day he arrived, she warned him. It will come for you. You must have courage and the will to resist it. Do not fall for it.
He had been only ten back then. Her words frightened him out of his mind. Over time, he got used to it.
Although reminded of it once again, Arthur couldn't help but feel discouraged that his grandmother was still rambling about this nonsense again.
But he forced himself to keep reading.
I know you won't believe me. That's why I have prepared something to convince you that the demon truly exists and has been following us around for a long, long time.
In the bottom drawer of the cabinet beside my bed, you'll find a knife.
When you pick it up, it will change into a dagger with exquisite carving.
With it, you WILL see the demon. And when you do, there is only one way for you to survive…
Use that dagger to stab your beating heart. That is how you awaken your own demon.
*
That was the end of the letter.
Arthur stared at it for a long time, then let out a shaky laugh.
"Nonsense," he muttered, crumpling it and throwing it on the bed. His grandmother had been delusional. She had to be.
And yet, after reading that letter, he couldn't keep his heart at rest.
And like a slap to his face, he heard a mocking echo in the back of his head.
Your grandmother was a bumbling fool. She killed herself because she was insane. Do not listen to her.
You shouldn't think too much of anything she said, you lonely freak.
You are alone, Arthur.
You have no friends.
No family.
No one loves you.
You are nothing.
So, end it. End your suffering.
Kill yourself.
Arthur gritted his teeth as the voice grew unbearably loud. He shook his head violently to get it off, but it didn't stop.
He glanced at the bottom drawer. His grandmother had said that whatever lay inside it would prove the demon's existence.
A small part of him wanted to know whether his grandmother was telling the truth. She sounded very convincing in the letter.
"Don't be ridiculous. There is no point in listening to the meanderings of an old woman," Arthur told himself as he reached for the door.
But just as his hand closed around the handle, the voice in his head morphed. It was no longer the familiar, maddening hiss of something tempting him to die, but something colder, older. A whisper that seemed to brush against his ears, right beside him.
This is your only chance to uncover the truth, boy. Cast away your fear. Open the drawer. Your grandmother never lied.
Arthur froze. His heart skipped as he turned back to stare at the drawer. Against his better judgement, he reluctantly walked back to where he had been earlier.
He had no choice but to listen to it. As they say, curiosity killed a cat. But Arthur hoped he wouldn't be next.
"This is the last time I'm going to humor you, Grandma," Arthur said, though his voice wavered at the end. He lifted his hand and slid the drawer open.
A kitchen knife.
It was an ordinary kitchen knife. No matter how he looked at it, it resembled a regular knife found in anyone's home, but his grandmother said that it would turn into a dagger once he touched it.
Arthur inhaled sharply and took the knife.
The instant his fingers wrapped around the handle, a searing heat surged in his palm. He almost let it slip from his hand, but when he blinked, the knife was gone. In its place was a dagger with an ivory handle, etched with strange, unfamiliar symbols.
"What the—" Arthur couldn't hide his shock. There was a carving of a strange symbol on each side of the dagger that he couldn't read.
His eyes landed on the carvings of horns, like the devil's horns pictured in a cover of a book that his grandmother read often when she was still alive.
"What's this…?" Arthur wondered. The blade looked dull, almost ceremonial, but the tip flashed with unnatural sharpness. Wondering what was so special about it, he tested it with his finger, touching the tip fearlessly. A sharp pain bit into the pad of his finger. A drop of blood quickly welled up from the tiny wound. Arthur winced in pain, and he sucked the wound quickly, but then—
...BlOoD…
The voice. It had come again. No longer just in his mind. It pulsed in the air, raw and guttural, like something was breathing down his neck. It was nothing like a human could produce.
Arthur's entire body tensed. He didn't dare move.
...BlOoD…
The whisper came again. This time, from behind him..
He suddenly felt a sense of dread creeping inside him. His instincts scream to run, yet curiosity urged him to turn, to face the source of the nightmare that has been haunting his mind for days.
Arthur gripped the dagger in his hand so tightly his knuckles turned white, then slowly turned around.
The sight drained the blood from his body.
Shaken to his core, a part of him screamed for him to break into a run.
A tall, skeletal monster stood before him. Its gaunt face was embedded with nails, even through its eyes. Yet its body was disturbingly human. It looked like a grotesque plastic puppet, smooth and featureless where flesh should be.
The creature realized that Arthur could see it, twisted its head unnaturally, and spoke with its tongue pierced with dozens of nails.
Hrmm? YoOu cAan SeEe MEeee!
"Y-you—w-what are you?!" Arthur reacted instantly as he stumbled back until his back hit the wardrobe.
The creature didn't seem to have any intention of attacking. Instead, its voice cracked an answer.
I aAM LeGion. DEemoOn of SoOrrooow. My mAaSteeR wAnts yoUu DeEEADDD!
"M-Master?!" Arthur stammered, clutching the dagger with trembling hands. His fear surged inside him like a tidal wave, but he quickly calmed himself down as his mind quickly thought of something. "Who is your master? D-did he order you to kill my grandma from him?!"
Legion, the Demon of Sorrow, was calm at first—until Arthur mentioned its Master. The creature opened its mouth, letting out a piercing screech that nearly burst his eardrums..
He endured the pain, refusing to cover his ears to tighten his grip on the dagger.
"Tell me who your master is—or… or I'll kill you!" Arthur shouted.
Legion's lips twisted into what looked like a grin, turning its hideous face even more malformed.
It lifted a bony finger, pointing straight at him.
Then, it yelled.
…YoOuu ShoOuuld DiiIIEee!