The Demon Inside

Lily’s parents had always been the church every Sunday type of people, until her mom started getting sick anyway. Lily had an incredibly active imagination and often came away from church services, with an impending fear of fire, brimstone and demons. Not because the preacher gave a terrifying sermon, but because Lily was so bored, she would start to read books of the Bible, especially Revelations.

Her parents always told her, she didn’t need to fear anything. Jesus would protect her. And she found herself in her weakest moments, both as Lily the child and Lilian the adult, praying for strength when she was afraid. As a child when she was convinced a demon was lurking outside her bedroom door, she would rebuke him, in the name of Jesus. And whether or not any of it was real, never really mattered. It always made her feel better.

Lily was not thinking about demons at all, as she quietly padded down to the kitchen and carefully pulled the water pitcher from the refrigerator. Carefully holding it between her two small hands. On Saturday mornings she liked to sleep in, and her parents let her, but this particular morning, she was intensely thirsty, usually a sign of a restless night. The sun was just poking over the ridge, and she briefly wondered if she could catch a bit more sleep after she quenched her thirst.

As she turned away from the refrigerator and back towards the kitchen counter where her empty water glass waited, the water pitcher fell from her grasp, crashing to the floor, flooding the tile with ice cold water. Even as the water rushed towards her bare toes, it completely escaped her notice.

Her mind was completely occupied with the figure that stood before her. Her mother.

“Mom,” she whispered, “I didn’t hear you.”

Her mom tilted her head to the side, considering Lily for a moment. Slowly a feeling of dread began seeping through Lily’s core, trickling out until her entire body, buzzed with the horror of the impossible.

Slightly behind her mother stood a black figure, a mockery of a hand extended from an outstretched, overly long limb, and as her mom’s head tilted just a little further, so did the figure’s hand.

“Mom,” Lily hissed. “Behind you!”

Her mom turned around slowly, the figure didn’t move, and when Lily’s mom turned back to face her, she laughed, a low, groaning sound. Not at all like the lilting peals of laughter Lily used to be so familiar with. Back before her mom got sick anyway. The shadows under her mom’s eyes were abnormally dark, almost like the skull on the Mr. Bones in Lily’s science teacher’s class, and she moved toward Lily in a slow shuffling step, mimicking the shadow that stood behind her. It looked almost like the shadow person was controlling her movements.

Lily had been backing up slowly and her back was now against the wall, terrified, she still noticed nothing else, other than the figure that used her mother like a puppeteer would use a marionette, not the ice water on the floor, nor the urine that slowly wet the front of her pajamas.

She squeezed her eyes and began to pray silently, feeling courage coming back to her, slowly, in increments, she suddenly blinked her eyes wide open, and screamed, “I rebuke you in the name of Jesus Christ!” Almost like muscle memory the phrase exploded out of her mouth, out of habit.

Her mom, and the shadow, had both been just about to reach their hands towards her, but her mom suddenly flinched back as though wounded, taking a step back, into the unmoving shadow. The shadow dissipated. But just as Lily was about to breathe a sigh of relief, she noticed black veins flickering under her mom’s skin, flashing out like lightening, as they spread across her face, and exposed skin.

“I’m your mommy,” the thing, pretending to be her mother whined, as its jaw swung open, slowly and just a hair wider than normal. A low guttural groan, like the scraping of tree branches in a storm, slipped out of her widened jaws, followed by a hoarse, grating laugh.

Once again frozen in fear, Lily watched as her mother, or the thing that was pretending to be her mother, slunk backwards until it reached the side door at the back of the kitchen.

“Thank you,” it groaned. “Just what I was hoping would happen.” It stepped outside, and then bent it’s face to the pane of glass, just as Lily once again, gathered the courage to once again scream “I REBUKE YOU IN THE NAME OF JESUS!”

But the creature, that didn’t even look like her mother now, just smiled, “That won’t work on me anymore, child.” It’s voice should have been muffled, but it rang in Lily’s ears terribly. Sobbing now she tried to clench her fist, somehow knowing that if she called on Jesus one more time and flung her hand forward, it would expel the demon that had a hold on her mother, but her hand was stuck. And the words wouldn’t come.

Gasping, Lilian’s eyes flew open, still trying to yank her hand forward, she realized muddily that her hand was stuck under her head. Breathing in deeply through her nose, she let her eyes focus on her room and began her mantra. “My name is Lilian. I’m no longer a child. My mother is dead. I am alone. I am safe. It was just a dream.”

Slowly her senses returned to her, she was desperately thirsty, her hand was asleep, and she had wet the bed.