So, I told Courtney I love her.

In front of I don’t know how many people.

Courtney Goldberg. The girl from next door. The girl I grew up with, like a friend—almost like a sister I never had. And today? She’s one of the most beautiful girls I’ve ever seen. I mean, just look at her. Those brown eyes, that beautiful golden brown skin, long black hair that flows like something out of a dream. She’s just… built beautiful. It’s not like she’s changed how she treats me either. She still gives me those long hugs, still travels with me, still has those sleepovers, just like when we were kids.

But here’s the thing—I never liked Courtney. Not romantically, anyway. She was just… Courtney.

So, what changed? When did it change? When did everything flip upside down? And how does she even feel about me now? Well, before that whole incident at the party, I don’t know. But after? After I completely destroyed her 21st birthday party, the one she worked so hard to plan? I’m pretty sure she hates me. Hates the thought of me.

And why wouldn’t she?

I completely blew it. My best friend—my Courtney—planned that entire party on her own. She needed me, and where was I? Busy. Busy chasing another girl. For what? For affection? For a kiss? For something that, looking back now, feels empty.

When Courtney asked me to be her date to the party, I said yes. Of course I did. But then, I turned her down at the last minute. For what? For Emma. For some girl who promised me… what? I don’t even know. I ditched my best friend for a girl I barely knew.

What kind of friend does that?

Courtney bought me a suit. Shoes. Cologne. All with her own money, without me paying a cent. And yet, I still chose someone else over her. I chose Emma over Courtney. And now I’m asking myself… do I even love Courtney the way I think I do? Because let’s face it, the moment Emma promised to make out with me, I didn’t even hesitate to ditch Courtney.

So, what does that say about me?

And Emma… Emma. Emmaculate Cooper. The girl I knew from church. She wasn’t in my life long, just came out of nowhere after boarding school ended. And me? I just dove right in. Pursued her. She was fresh off a breakup, heartbroken, and I was there to pick up the pieces. I was there for her when no one else was. Took her on dates, comforted her, helped her get over that jerk.

But was I really doing it for her? Or was I just trying to get Courtney out of my head? Was I just using Emma to escape my own reality because I couldn’t handle the fact that Courtney started dating Michael?

We both used each other, Emma and I, to escape. That’s not love. Is it?

And it’s not like things with Emma were innocent. We started being romantic way before we were even officially dating. So what was the point of asking her out? Why did I even want to date her? And does Emma truly love me? Or were we both just playing some messed-up game?

God… and my mother. What does she think of me right now? Does she even know where I am? Does she know I’m strapped to a hospital bed, stuck in an asylum?

What would she think if she knew what I did? If she knew the monster I’ve become?

And you know what’s wild? My mom doesn’t even know about the demon inside me. She has no idea about the ritual’s effect, no idea how I came to be. Only a few people know the truth—four, to be exact. But not her. She’s been with me my whole life, raised me, loved me, but I never told her.

I didn’t have the guts to.

She only knows that she received help to have me. But how much does she really know? Maybe she’s just pretending she doesn’t know, keeping it to herself, praying about it every night at church, like she always does.

And if she doesn’t know? What’s she going to do if she finds out her son is a monster? That the child she prayed for, the child she raised, is possessed?

I don’t even have a father. Or do I? I’ve never asked about him. I’ve kept it cool all these years, never brought it up, but now… now I need to know. I wish I knew who he was, where he is, and most importantly, why he left. Did he abandon us? Or was he part of the ritual?

Was he even there when my mother conceived me? Or was it just her, alone, doing whatever dark thing she did to bring me into this world?

God, I wish I had a father. Maybe he would’ve groomed me, taught me how to be normal. Maybe I wouldn’t be stuck in this mess. Maybe I wouldn’t have these problems. Maybe…

Maybe I wouldn’t still be a virgin.

Yeah, you heard that right. That’s what it all comes down to, doesn’t it? That’s the thing that’s been eating away at me, the thing that’s caused all of this chaos. I’m a 21 year-old virgin, strapped to a hospital bed, possibly about to die.

Is this how my life ends? Is this it? Strapped down, in a hospital bed, with nothing but my own thoughts to keep me company?

Tears start falling down my face. When was the last time I cried? It’s been years. The last time was when my mother beat me so badly I thought I’d never recover. And who was there for me then? Courtney. Courtney was there to wipe away my tears, to hold me, to tell me everything would be okay.

But now? Now, there’s no one. No one to wipe away these tears. No one to hold me. Not even me. I’m strapped down, my hands tied, like I’m some kind of lunatic.

What really is this demon trapped inside of me, I really have no idea. For years I have tried to keep it inside but I have never seen it come out to that extent. If I actually let it come out fully what is it really that it’s going to do. What is it fully capable of. There is a big possibility I might have killed four people. Does this demon have an identity, where did it come from?

Really what am I?

What would you do? If you were caught in my situation? What would you do if you were me? I’m strapped down with a thousand straps, in too many beds, so tight I can’t even move a muscle. How did I end up here? How did it come to this?

All I wanted was to be normal. To live a normal life. But instead, I’m stuck with this. This curse, this burden, this demon inside me. And I have to live with it, every single day, for the rest of my life.

How am I supposed to stay emotionless? How am I supposed to not feel anything?

These are the questions running through my mind as I lie here, fully awake, unable to move.

I need water. I need food right now, but I can’t even move. My whole body is strapped down tight. Helpless. Will someone care enough to bring me anything? Just a little food? Something? I’ve been lying here like this for hours, strapped to a bed like some wild animal. Three hours pass, maybe more, until twelve nurses—yeah, **twelve**—all come in. They don’t even try to hide it—each of them is holding a sedative. They look at me like I might snap at any moment.

Slowly, so slowly, they begin to unstrap me. The straps come off, but they keep watching me, like I’m going to leap at them. They don’t even have to say it. I know what they think.

They think I’m crazy.

The second I’m free, I see the food and water off to the side and I jump on it. I don’t care how I look. I tear into it like a starving beast. It’s disgusting, really—eating like I’ve never seen food in my life. And when I’m done? The water is gone. The food? Gone. I drink a 5-iter bottle of water in less than a minute.

I glance up, and they’re all staring at me, bracing themselves, like I’m about to attack. “I’m not crazy,” I say, my voice shaking. “I’m not crazy! Let me out!” I repeat it again, louder. “Let me out!” But they just stand there, frozen. Not a single one moves. They just watch me.

Why are they looking at me like that?

I’m not crazy, right?

But then… I see my reflection in a mirror across the room.

My face. My body. Scratched to hell. I clawed at myself, didn’t I? Still remember? at the party, when I was to fight the demon? Big, deep wounds all over, but now… not a scratch. No blood. No wounds. Completely healed.

What the hell? How is this even possible?

Before I can even process it, pain explodes in my skull. My head feels like it’s splitting apart—like something’s pushing its way in. Or maybe it’s trying to get out. I can’t tell anymore. I drop to the ground, screaming, clutching my head. It feels like I’m being torn apart from the inside.

And then, they’re back—the nurses. They rush at me, stabbing me with sedatives, dragging me back to the bed. Strapping me down again. “I’m not crazy!” I scream, my voice breaking, but they keep going, tightening the straps. It’s like they don’t even hear me.

One nurse, though, pauses. He turns to another and says, “And his mother was insisting on visiting him.”

His mother? My mother?

“Please, nurse, let her come,” I beg, my voice cracking. “Please, I need to see her. I’m not crazy, or maybe I am—I don’t know—but I need to see her! She won’t abandon me. She’s the only one who loves me.” I don’t care how I sound. I’m desperate. I need her. She’s my last hope. “Please.”

The nurse sighs. “It’s not a good idea. You’re dangerous. But… I’ll try.”

Dangerous. Is that really how they see me now? Strapped down like an animal again, I can’t help but feel it sinking in. Hours pass, and I’m back to being thirsty, back to being hungry.

And in my head, the voice starts again.

"So, you’ve messed up," it says, laughing at me. "Both of your girlfriends? Gone. Courtney? You ruined her party—the one she planned all by herself while you were too busy chasing another girl. You tore her dress, humiliated her, ruined what should’ve been the best night of her life."

I clench my fists, trying to block it out, but the voice just digs deeper.

"And Emma? What about her? You told her you didn’t love her—in public. Oh, and don’t forget—you killed her brothers. Her blood. Michael? Your best friend? You betrayed him too. You said you love his girl. You practically blamed him for you and Courtney falling apart. You think they’ll ever forgive you?"

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying not to listen. But the demon won’t stop.

"You don’t have a father. Your mother doesn’t even want a lunatic for a son. So why are you holding me back? Come on, let me out, Ethan. I’ll get you out of here. You’ll be free."

Rage is building inside me. I can feel it bubbling, boiling, but I try to keep it down. Barely. The demon's taunting. “You want this food? Really? No. What you want is blood, isn’t it? You tasted it before, and you liked it.”

I’m shaking as the nurses come in with my food. I try my best to stay calm, to hold back the demon, but it’s clawing at me, gnawing at my control. I can feel my eyes burning, flushing orange, but I fight it. I fight it with everything I have.

The nurses fully unstrap me, and I stumble to the floor, trying to keep myself from hurting anyone. And then—this makes it worse—the nurse with the food? She’s a woman. I can tell from the way her hair spills out under her mask. I don’t want to hurt her, I really don’t, but the demon is stronger, and I’m losing control. 

Desperate, I crawl to the corner of the room, my breaths coming in ragged gasps. There’s only one thing I can think to do. I have to make it stop. I have to.

With all the force I can muster, I slam my head against the wall.

The pain explodes in my skull, but I don’t stop. I can’t stop. The harder the demon pushes, the harder I hit. Blood runs down my face, but I keep going. Again. And again. Each time I hit my head, the demon screams in rage, but I keep slamming. I don’t care how much it hurts. I need it to stop.

The room spins, my vision blurs, but I don’t stop. I can’t stop.

My blood splatters against the wall, my body screaming in agony, but I push through it. I hit my head over and over until finally—finally—the demon goes silent.

It’s gone.

I collapse against the wall, breathing heavily, blood dripping from my forehead, and I laugh. I laugh because I beat it. For now. I’m free. For now.

But then… I turn around.

The nurse, the one who brought my food—her mask is off.

It’s my mother.

My heart stops. My mother. Standing there, tears streaming down her face, her eyes wide with shock and horror. She’s staring at me like I’m not her son anymore, like I’m something else. Something monstrous.

“No,” I whisper, stumbling toward her. “Mom… wait! I can explain. Please, I’m not crazy! I can explain everything!”

But she steps back, her hand trembling as she covers her mouth. She looks at me like I’m a stranger, like she can’t even recognize the boy she raised.

One of the nurses asks her, “Do you believe us now, ma’am?”

She nods, slowly, backing away from me, her face pale with shock. Her strong, brave face crumbles, and she just nods. She believes them.

She believes I’m crazy.

“Mom, no! Please, I’m not crazy! Don’t leave me! Please!” I scream, my voice raw and broken. I try to reach her, but the nurses hold me back. I can’t get to her. I can’t make her understand.

They pull her away, and I watch her go, the last piece of my life slipping through my fingers. My mother. My only hope. She looked at me and saw a monster.

They sedate me again. The straps go back on, tighter this time. And now? Now I’m alone.

What am I supposed to do? How do I tell anyone about the demon inside me? I can’t control it. It comes when it wants, feeding on my emotions, my pain. I lie there, strapped to the bed, helpless and defeated.

The fight in me? It’s gone.

Until…

Someone walks in, slowly, methodically. They reach down, unstrapping my face. I blink up at them, confused.

“Ethan,” the voice says, calm and steady. “I’ve been looking for you for a very, very long time.”

I look up and his eyes turn a demonic red