The words had a nice ring to it. Especially if that Devil's incarnate is a girl. In novels, such girls were villains. Vile, wicked and had nothing better to do than torment the female lead. They were destined to fall to ruin for their actions, and that was that. Reality, however is different.

Amazingly, I have gained the hatred and mistrust of every single person I have ever come in contact with since I was two! And I never even opened my mouth! Even my mum was scared of me and kept her distance by moving to her parents house till I turned five. Then she came back and treated me like I was the best thing that ever happened to her. I still don't know what changed her but I don't really care. Dad was the only one who stayed by my side and loved me unconditionally, even when he was disowned by his own parents by accepting 'a devil' into his family.

My days as a child were very lonely.With parents making up horror stories about me and telling them to their kids every night, I was always isolated before I even had the chance to blink. As a child I felt horrible. I asked dad why I was born and even cried in his arms wishing I was never born and that I could just diappear. Dad was heartbroken and tried his best to console me by saying I was no devil. That I was human and that I'm normal. That he didn't care what I look like and that he loves me. But like any child would, I believed he only said those words out of necessity as my father and took them with a pinch of salt.

My mother died two years later when I was seven in a car accident. The news spread across town and the ferocity of their hate and misguided cautiousness rose to a frightening degree. A mob marched over to our house before dawn the day after mum died. The ear-splitting noise of glass shattering and people shouting woke me up from a nightmare to an even worse one. I rose up from my bed and shaking like a leaf, decsended the stairs to the foyer. With his silhouette bent and looking tired making me not even want to imagine how tired he actually was, dad stood in front of our door with looked out through the glass panels. I walked toward him and held his pants that he wore since the day before. Trembling, I saw the mob. There was glass eveywhere. Every single one of them carried a weapon like bottles, frying pans, sticks and pitchforks which reminded me of mob scenes I had seen in a cartoon  I watched the day before. Watching it actually happen I was terrified and desperately hoped a hero would come to stop the mob and clear up whatever misunderstanding they had. But that was reality. No heroes came. I even saw some shovels which I'm sure were meant to bury my body which they looked like they planned to have at all costs. 

Those were shouts directed at a seven year old and I trembled more than I thought was possible. Dad quickly picked me up and hugged me. He continued whispering things like

"You're okay Leelee. I got you"

Leelee. Even though my name is Lorelei(With an 'i') dad always called me Leelee and with so much care and love that I thought was impossible to be felt in just one word.

"You're okay. Daddy's here. I've called the cops and this will be over soon"

I lean into him and felt his shirt get soaked by tears I didn't know I shed. I almost believed him, almost. 

Looking back now, the absurdity of those claims are almost funny. Probably?! They weren't even sure of what they were saying. 

But my younger self did not think it was funny. I trembled more after just barely calming down and asked my dad questions like

"Am I really a devil? Did I kill mum? But I love mum! I can't...I couldn't-"

"-Leelee! You did nothing wrong! You didn't-"

"You're just saying that cause you're my dad! You're...just...saying...that"

I cried so much that day that I somehow feel asleep with all the ruckus. Dad took me up to my room and waited for the cops so that he could sue all of the people outside, which I'm sure was the whole town. The next morning, as I descended the stairs and headed to the dinning room for breakfast with sleepy eyes, I felt like what happened the day before was just a bad dream. A really vivid one.

"Dad, what happened yester-"

"It was just a dream Leelee. Now, have some pancakes and cake" 

Dad said as he set pancakes and a vanilla ice-cream cake in front of me. Dad never let me have cake in the morning and surely never as breakfast. But as the seven-years old I was, I was overjoyed and blissfully pushed the encounter of the night before at the back of my memory as merely a dream. I only learned it wasn't a dream a year later when I heard the old ladys we had as neighbors gossiping about it. I let dad believe he had me fooled because I understood that he didn't want a seven years old to be scarred by such an event. But, it was too late. I had already been scarred forever.

I stopped going to school a while after that and did online lessons and homeschooling. That continued till I was allowed to enter highschool (after a lot of persuading). Highschool was on it's way to be the best school experience I ever had until....the incident.

Then I resumed homeschooling again until grade 11 and then we had to move, because of a new job offer in another town called Wolfridge, after I finished writing my finals.

Now, with my suitcase in hand, I survey my empty room one last time thinking

With that, I drag my suitcase after me and descend the stairs. The house is eerily empty and I can already see the victory dances of everyone in the neighborhood as the "she-devil" leaves. Good riddance to them too. 

Walking out the front door I sigh of relief. Relief that I am  leaving this hell hole once and for all. Relief that I will never have to see the faces of old people (who are suppose to be nice) crinkle in disgust and be soaked in holy water. Relief that I will not see kids run away and scream if I peek out my window. Though I know that it might not be different in Wolfridge, at least the whole town won't be a mob haboring ill intent at my father. 

This time I will not be afraid. I will walk with my head held high and my red locks cascading down my back. I will look people in the eyes with fire in my own. I will not back down or feel unsure of myself. I will talk to people first, try to make them see me before they see the she-devil. I will try this time. And if it doesn't work, I don't mind playing the devil everyone sees in me so much.

I walk to the car trunk, push my suitcase in and close it. With that I walk to the front passenger seat and plop down beside my dad.

"You sure took your sweet time"

"Of course I did. You woke up a teenage girl by five on a Saturday. You should have seen it coming" I yawn as the lack of sleep catches up to me. I was too excited and relieved to sleep soundly last night.

"Lesson learned then"

Dad says as he pulls out of the lawn

"Good"

I rest my head against the seat and close my eyes

"Wake me when we get there" 

I mumbled as I slowly fell into the world of dreams. Feeling moist lips on my forehead, I smile and dream of a better world. A world where dad and I could live normally and happily.

But sadly, this is reality.