Coma

The Demon

In a small apartment in New York, Sammy looks around her room, her attempt to find something to distract her frivolous. Her eyes resting on the full length mirror, hanging against her door. Her reflection stared back at her, with silver eyes. Eyes that were soulless. Eyes that gave her mother nightmares. She had long, wavy, brown hair, which was nothing spectacular. She also had long, slender legs that draped over the edge of her bed at the moment, along with dark skin that was an oddity in her plain white room. Sammy had barely gotten all of her things out of the boxes. For now, they sat in all corners, starting to collect their dust. It was packed with things from her old life; pictures, papers, toys, and clothes. Her mother continued to persuade her for the past week to unpack. But Sammy just wanted to leave her old life behind.

A knock came at her door, causing her to swing her head toward the sound. The white door swung open, and her dad stepped in, a frown creasing all sides of his face. He walked in, hands behind his back, walking with slow, heavy footsteps until he got to Sammy's bed. Sammy raised her head to look at her dad, her brown eyes falling on his green ones. She saw the anger that those eyes held. The disappointment. Her dad removed his hand from behind his back reveling that he held a newspaper. Sammy reached her hand out to take it. Her hand shook as it went on the journey to her fate. Her hands closed around the cold newspaper,telling her that it had just come from the outside. Aw crap.

Sammy sat up on her bed, which was very difficult considering the sheet she had twisted around her body. She reached behind her, moving her pillow so it propped her up. She then laid out the newspaper on her lap, taking her time, savoring the moment before she knew what she did wrong, or at least, what she was caught at doing. The front page consisted of a story about a middle-aged man who had shot himself in the head

"Well, I hope you're not suggesting I killed this dude." Sam said raising an eyebrow.

"Farther down the page Sam." Her father said, motioning to the article he apparently wanted her to read.

Sam looked at a side column and saw why he was so uptight.

Mark High School Covered in Graffiti

"Can you prove that I did this? Or maybe this is just another thing that you can blame on me."

"We both know that this is your handiwork. And who else would spray paint satanic images on the school building?"

"Oh please it's not like I've murdered a man." Sam picked up the paper and held it out to her father.

"Of all this chaos that you cause. You do something like this and you blame it on some poor student-"

"After he's blamed it on me." Her father grabbed the newspaper with force, making Sam's hand jerk as he retrieved it from Sammy's hand. He then proceeded to turn on his heel and walk out the door.

Sammy watched him as he slammed the door behind him. Sammy never had done the graffiti, it was someone else's handiwork. But whose ever it was she approved. Her father had never noticed the pattern, where when some petty crime happened where everyone believed was her, there was always an 'unexpected' suicide. The corners of her eyes started to crinkle at the corners with laughter. She slid off the bed giggling, pulling the covers with her as she fell to the ground. Her body thumped as it hit, and turned limp like jelly as her laughs turning into cackling. The horrid laughter filled the air, and birds in the trees outside fled the sound. Sammy thought of the idiotic Homo sapiens, and how they believe that under whatever circumstances, everything would work out. Sammy thought of her past life, her dying. Her laying in a locked room, with her feathers falling, with no help from anyone anywhere.Her god had never helped her. He let her die without remorse. A knight from his beloved army died before his very eyes, and he hadnever lifted a finger to help them.

Her eyes rolled into the back of her head, the whites clouding over into darkness. She smiled, her teeth rotting corpses, green, yellow, and black. Her skin turned white as milk, with black splotches here and there. She rose from her spot on the floor, and dragged herself to the mirror. Nothing stared back ather, only her eyes. Two black oval shapes bored holes into the mirror. She smiled, and ran her tongue along her teeth, feeling the points that had formed, the killing material that had shaped under her tongue. Sammy looked at the mirror, and whispered out to no one,"That's right, I'm back. And now I'm in the dark."