Dad and the Demon

Dad closed the storybook and yawned. He leaned back in his chair and watched Becca sleep with the same, stupid grin he always had when by her side. She looked divine in her white gown, the sheets tucked up to her cleft chin. Blonde hair spilled onto her pillow in every direction, forming a halo around her head. Her peaceful expression warmed Dad’s body despite the chill in the air.

Dad glanced down at the opened book. Tales of knights rescuing princesses were cliché, but Becca had loved them since she was a kid. She was getting too old for bedtime stories, but if he was honest, he read them more for his sake than hers. Dad needed Becca to know he would always be watching over her. He was her guardian angel. It was a job he’d put his heart and soul into for so, so long.

Beep.

Dad pressed hands against his temples. Good lord, his head hurt. Too many late nights in a row would bring any man to his knees, but Dad had the displeasure of being the weakest man in the world. He tried to be strong for Becca, but who was he kidding? She was a thousand times stronger than he’d ever been. When Becca’s mom passed, he’d been a sloven mess. He knew he was meant to be there for Becca, but an uncontrollable force had wrapped itself around him, rooting him to the couch with a bottle in his hand. In the end, Becca pulled him away from his self-destruction with all her might. Imagine, a ten-year-old comforting a grown man? He’d have laughed if it wasn’t him at the pointed end of the punchline. That was why, now, when things were more dire than they’d ever been, he needed to stand up for Becca. He needed to fight.

Beep.

The clock chimed its deadly tune. The hour drew closer to midnight. Long after the sun set, but right before the moon shone high in the sky. The darkest time of night. The demon’s hour.

Beep.

Dad peered out the window behind him. The city beyond the glass was a mere memory, replaced by utter blackness. How long had it been since his world fell into darkness? Hours? Years?

He looked back toward the door, shielding his eyes from fluorescent lights as they flickered to life. He could just make out the clock above the doorway as his eyes adjusted to the change in brightness. Midnight. It was time.

Beep.

Dense fog snuck beneath the doorframe, slowly filling the room. Dad took a deep breath and steeled himself. He rose from his chair and tucked the storybook inside Becca’s nightstand. He tried his best to remain silent; he didn’t dare wake Becca from her slumber.

The fog wormed devious tendrils across the room, reaching upward to grab Dad’s ankles. The fog’s icy caress sent spasms rippling through his tired muscles. He shook away the feeling and the fog. How many times had he done this? A hundred? A thousand?

Beep.

Dad tightened the straps of his iron breastplate. He rotated his shoulders, working out the kinks. He needed to be nimble. He needed to remain standing. Dad unsheathed the sword from the rusted scabbard at his hip. Dulled and chipped, the steel struggled to maintain its shine in the dim light. But his blade hadn’t given way yet. Neither had his resolve.

Beep.

Whispers crept into the room next, originating from the other side of the door. The ghostly chittering of Dad’s opponent reverberated off the walls and into his mind. Dad’s heartrate increased tenfold, but he remained focused on the task at hand. He stepped forward, taking up his position in front of Becca’s bed. He hefted his shield, fitted a helmet onto his head, and readied his blade.

He risked a glance backward. Even unconscious, Becca’s lips remained curled into a permanent smile. His little girl was as beautiful as ever. She’d done so much for him. She was his universe. Nothing could stop him from protecting her. Not even a demon.

Beep.

“It’s time. Are you ready?” the demon whispered. Her voice was a low hiss, straight from the bowels of Hell. She tried to break Dad. The foolish demon hadn’t realized the futility in her actions.

Beep.

The doorknob twisted, and Dad raised his shield in response. His joints ached something fierce, but he ignored the pain. His body meant nothing. Preventing this beast from taking Becca was all that mattered.

Beep.

The door creaked open a hair, but no light entered the room. Past the doorway lay a black void which drowned out all life. A massive claw reached out from within that void, curling around the door. The demon’s nails screeched against wood, deepening the grove they’d left from the last time she’d been here.

Beep.

The door swung open completely, revealing the demon’s ghastly form. Her face was a blur, too horrible for the eyes of man to comprehend. The only features Dad could make out were a pair of curled horns rising above a mound of black hair and eyes glowing bright crimson against the dark backdrop. The demon wore a billowing, white coat to hide her withered body. Glinting claws poked out from within her coat sleeves, and cloven hooves propped the beast up on its haunches. At the demon’s back, her army of imps – a band of warped creatures dressed in blue and green suits – snickered like hyenas.

Beep.

The demon advanced toward Dad, her hooves clicking against the tiled floor. The demon’s hunched imps lagged behind, giggling amongst themselves.

“It’s time. Are you ready?” the demon asked, extending her clawed hands on either side. “Have you read it?”

“Enough with your tricks!” Dad shouted back. “Let’s get on with it!”

Despite the haze shrouding her face, Dad could sense the creature’s smug grin. She knew she was stronger, faster, better than him. He knew it too. That didn’t matter. Not when this battle was a test of willpower.

Beep.

The demon bent forward and charged with inhuman speed. Dad barely managed to block its first strike. The force of the creature’s impact sent shockwaves up his arm, but he held firm. Dad twisted and swept his blade at the demon’s feet. She launched herself into the air and avoided the attack. The imps hesitated in the doorway; their fearful eyes told Dad they were no threat – for now.

Beep.

The demon crashed into the ceiling, showering the room in debris. Dust sprinkled into Dad’s eyes, but he refused to blink. One blink was all the demon needed to take his head. One blink for her to drain Becca’s soul. Dad wouldn’t give her the chance.

Beep.

The demon came down with meaty fists onto Dad’s shield. He braced himself, but the weight was too much. His knees buckled, and he dropped to the floor. As Dad tried to calculate his next move, the demon raised her leg and kicked him square in the chest. Dad flew backward, across the room, before slamming into the far wall with a crunch. He gasped for breath, air fleeing his lungs. He recovered in mere moments, but he’d been knocked out of position. Becca was exposed.

Beep.

The demon didn’t give Dad a second’s reprieve before pressing her advantage. She reached a skeletal hand over Becca’s face and muttered an incantation under her breath. A dark aura formed in the demon’s palm just as –

Color faded from Becca’s cheeks, and Dad felt his guts drop to the floor. Becca’s skin shriveled tighter against her face. Twinkling essence, like all the stars in the night’s sky, escaped her lips, quickly consumed by the abominable creature hovering above her.

Dad shot up with a wince. He pressed a hand against his chest. His breastplate had been dented, and his ribs were certainly cracked, but he was alive. His sword sat at the feet of bickering imps on the opposite side of the room. They fought over who would pick Becca’s corpse when their master finished. The damned vultures.

Beep.

Dad pulled off his helmet and threw it at the demon. Mercifully, the steel helm collided with the demon’s wrist, stopping her vile sorcery. The demon howled in agony, and its ear-piercing shriek left the imps scrambling for cover. Dad wove past cowering imps, slid on the floor, and snatched his fallen blade in both hands.

Beep.

The demon waved the pain from her wrist, then whipped her head toward Dad. But it was too late. Dad gritted his teeth and swung upward. His blade connected with her desiccated flesh, right above the elbow. The strike cut clean through the fabric of her coat, spilling black ichor onto the floor. The demon cried out, forcing Dad to cover his ears lest he be deafened. She held a hand to her wounded arm and stepped backward.

Beep.

The demon’s eyes went wild, scanning Dad’s bruised body and planning her next attack. “It’s time!” the creature bellowed. “Are you ready!?”

“Never!” Dad spat. Metallic taste enveloped his tongue, and a line of blood trickled from his lower lip.

“Have you read the words!?” the demon asked, her voice layered over a dozen others in a wicked chorus.

“No!” Dad yelled. “I refuse!”

The imps rallied around their master. They pointed toward Dad, bearing rotten fangs. “Make him read! Make him agree! Make him stop!”

“You can certainly try,” Dad said, feeling his confidence grow. They’d been at this for weeks, and he hadn’t lost yet. He refused to lose now.

Beep.

Dad’s eyelids felt heavy. His movements were sluggish. His sword drooped. His legs quivered. His very bones begged him to stop. He refused.

Beep.

Dad blinked. Why had he blinked? How foolish could he be? Dad opened his eyes, and the demon towered over him, cackling. The demon’s laughter filled the room and rattled Dad’s frayed mind. He tried to swing his sword, but it was too late. The demon slammed a fist into his side, sending him crashing into a heap.

Beep.

Before Dad could act, the demon’s hoof pressed against his chest. Her other hoof stomped onto the flat end of his blade. She tore the hilt from his hands, sending his weapon out of the room and into the void beyond. Dad tried to fight back, but it was useless. The demon raked sharpened claws against his armor, shredding the metal to ribbons with a sickening squeal. Dad tried to break free, but her grip was too strong. He was too weak. The demon lifted him by the collar and slammed him into the wall.

“It’s time!” she repeated, sending putrid spittle into Dad’s face.

“Are you ready!? Have you read it!?”

“Enough!” Dad shouted. “You’ll never win!”

“Make him read!” The imps surrounded Dad on all sides. Their ravenous, yellow eyes sent a spike through his heart. The wound healed in seconds, replacing his flesh with stone. “Make him agree! Make him stop!”

Beep.

The demon pointed toward the wall above Becca’s bed. The paint peeled away, revealing a message written in blood.

“Have you read it!?”

Dad looked away. The demon peeled his eyes open, but he slammed them shut again.

“Never!”

Beep.

The demon’s fist knocked the wind out of Dad. She hit him again. And again. And again. Over and over, she struck Dad, demanding he listen. Demanding he open his eyes. However, he knew her weakness. The demon couldn’t kill him. He just needed to bide his time against her onslaught. Once midnight passed, she would retreat into her lair. Dad had to outlast her. He had to endure.

Beep.

The demon tore into him, unimaginable pain coursing through his veins. He shrugged it off. The imps stabbed him in the abdomen with tiny scalpels. He laughed in their faces. They broke his bones. He ignored it. They drowned him. He swam back up to the surface with a toothy grin. They burned him. He practically giggled at the smell of burning flesh. Nothing they could ever do would stop him.

“It’s time! It’s time! It’s time!”

“Never! Never! Never!”

Beep.

“Dad, it’s time.”

Becca’s voice sounded like a distant memory, just out of reach. It brought Dad back to reality. He looked around, bewildered. His hands were shaking, slick with sweat. His wounds were nowhere to be found, but he knew they were still there.

He glanced up, and – the sight before him was nearly too much to bear. When had Becca gotten so big? How old was she now? It was just yesterday he remembered hugging her at graduation. That was yesterday, right?

Becca looked as beautiful as ever, despite the circumstances. Not even a dozen tubes in a dozen different places could hide the strong, incredible woman beneath.

Beep.

The doctor laid a hand on Dad’s shoulder. The weight of her touch was too much. His knees buckled, and he dropped to the floor.

“I’m so sorry, Mike,” the doctor said in her whisper of a voice. “We can come back again tomorrow if you prefer, but at some point, we need to do this. It’s time.” She swallowed, choking on her words. “Have you read it? What Rebecca wrote?”

Dad twisted to look behind him. The nurses clustered together, each scrubbing at watering eyes. He tried his best to smile. A feeble attempt to reassure them everything would be alright. But nothing would ever be right again.

Beep.

Dad held up the crumpled paper. “Yeah, I’ve read it.” He needed two hands to hold the form aloft in a quivering grip. The ink had dried ages ago. The words at the bottom were written in Becca’s handwriting.

When I can no longer act of my own free will, don’t let my dad stop you. It’s time. I'm ready. But make sure to tell my dad I love him. I always will.

Beep.

“She’s an adult, Mike,” the doctor said, lowering a hand to lift him back up. “She made her choice, and we have to respect that. I can give you more time, but our shift ends after midnight. We need to do this now, or she’ll spend another night here. Are you ready?”

“No,” Dad mumbled. He watched Becca’s chest rise and fall. He promised himself that so long as she drew breath, he would never let her go. But was this truly breathing?

“I’ll never be ready,” Dad continued. “But she is. She’s always been stronger than me. My brave little girl.” His vision blurred as tears clouded everything around him. “You can do it.”

Beep.

The nurses lined up around Becca’s bed, each lowering their heads as they carried out their final task for the night. Dad crouched beside Becca, holding her cold hand. He stroked a palm across her forehead and rustled her hair. “I love you, Becca.” Dad held onto her for dear life. He pressed his forehead against her arm. “But it’s time.”

Just like that, the beeping stopped. When the monitors ended their soothing melody, Dad’s mind went blank. He hadn’t realized one little noise was all that kept him tethered to the earth. Seconds turned to minutes turned to hours. The nurses left, one by one, and although the doctor stayed long past her shift, eventually Dad heard her heels click against the tile as she shuffled out of the room. Dad never left Becca’s side. He closed his eyes and wept. The world closed in around him, covering everything in darkness.

Dad wasn’t certain when he regained his sanity, if he ever did. But, in time, he stood and marched alongside Becca out of the room. He stepped out into the pitch-black void and pressed a hand against his chest. His heart was still beating. How was that possible?

Dad looked out into the void and was shocked to see a small glimmer of light in the distance. It seemed there was something – or rather, someone – fighting back against the endless darkness. Becca stood strong in that void, forever watching over him. She was his guardian angel. It was a job she’d put her heart and soul into for so, so long.