Hi, I'm Asher Jordans. I’m glad you picked this up. Hope you like it! Now, to the story.
Most kids my age have a normal childhood with loving parents, a normal appearance, and a perfect little family. My family was nothing like that. First off, I’m part demon. I have horns, my right eye is black and red all the time, and the other changes to the same colors when I’m angry. I have a scar that goes through my right eye, but I’ll talk about that later.
My dad was abusive and my mom was his main target. One day, it went too far. I walked into my parent's bedroom and my mom was laying on the bed. I told her to wake up but she didn’t; she was dead. I was 7 at the time. We had her funeral a week later. My dad targeted my little brother Spencer; who got my mom's human side.
Spencer needed to leave the house, but he was 13 and I was 17. Dad wouldn’t let us leave. I helped my baby brother, giving him $100 and helping him pack his clothes. I told him to run and he did, but now I was alone.
I became the main target. I hid in my room, my back to the door to keep him out, tears running down my face. My little 17-year-old body couldn’t keep my forceful demon of a father on the other side of the door. He came in shoving me across the room.
I was curled in a ball, crying; yelling, “STOP! DON’T DO IT! DON’T HURT ME, PLEASE! DADDY, PLEASE!”
He wouldn't stop.
He came over to me, his eyes were red and glowing. His tail was out and his horns were sharper than usual.
He approached me and yelled, “The last one left, my son, and my precious little demon boy stayed. When you get older, you’ll be just like me, you know.”
I didn’t want to believe it but I always believed him, and I was so scared I would hurt my future family. Like how he hurt my family.
He left me with my thoughts and came back an hour later with a knife. I thought he was going to kill me, but what he did was force me to the rough carpeted floor.
Pushing on my chest, he told me, “Don’t move or this will be way worse.”
He held the knife near my eye. I closed my eyes tight and all I could feel was the cold knife slice over my right eye. I opened my eyes and I was bleeding. I couldn’t feel anything but the cold knife going down my face. I was upset, scared, and angry. My anger towards my father grew deeper and I couldn’t control it anymore. My demon came out. My tail forced out of my lower back and tore through my shirt. For the first time in years, my wings burst out of my back tearing up my shirt with force and pain that was indescribable. My eyes turned a deep red and black.
But I couldn’t hold up that tough-guy look long. With the focus of keeping my demon out, I couldn’t hear much, but I could hear my dad cheering.
“Yes, my son! Embrace it, soon you will be like me!”
With the little amount of control I had left, I forced myself back. I wouldn’t hurt my father, no matter what happened. I would be just like him, and I swore I’d never be like my dad. So I let myself wear out and turned back to myself to listen to my father’s praise. He never hurt me again.
It’s been three years since then, and my father kicked me out. I have a nice apartment. I’m not in college. I live alone and hide all my demon parts about me; even my eye.
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