Basically, I'm the Spawn Satan

I'm a demon.

Are you expecting me to say "Sike!" because I've been waiting for that too.

No really.

My dad is Satan, lord of hell.

And he is making me go to high school.

High school.

In the real world.

Ok, so I pissed him off one too many times this millennium, big deal. Why does he think he can just send me to one of the worst places in the cosmos?

And can I just say, Monday mornings are always my favorite. I really hope you can sense the sarcasm in that. I'm a teenager, the spawn of the devil, and in high school which automatically makes Monday mornings a living hell for me, well not literally.

One thing about me you should know is that I can't tolerate rudeness. And for some reason, every teacher's favorite thing to do when you ask to use the bathroom is correct you by saying, "I don't know, can you?"

I rolled my eyes at my physics teacher, tempted to explain to him the anatomy of the body to return his impudent comment. Instead, I behaved myself and corrected my manner of speech. 

I escape my classes whenever I can. The bathroom isn't much better though, but at least it's away from all those ignorant jocks who don’t know the difference between geometry and geography.

I pushed open the door to the little devil's room and inhaled the sweet smell of toxic masculinity and teenage puberty. No one else was in there so I stood at the sink and stared at myself in the mirror. I saw the pale scrawny kid Dad made me look like. He can change how I look when I interact with mortals and he chose this loser of a body. I have scruffy brown curls now too. Dad also took away my wings and horns so I could "fit in." I explained to him that there was no need to send me here, but he insisted that this would be a good lesson for me. I don't exactly know what he's trying to teach. That teenage boys fight over the size of their muscles while girls cry over a model who has a bigger breast size?

Staring in the mirror made me miss being a part of hell. All my friends were there. You'd be surprised at who got sent downstairs. I hang out with Robin Williams, Avicii, Janis Joplin, and more. Apparently committing suicide and overdosing on drugs is a no-no for the big G. 

I don't like to say big G’s real name because he and my dad basically hate each other but if I tell you that he is my uncle, I think you can figure out the rest.

Anyway, I stopped staring at myself and looked down at the floor. "Is this what you wanted Dad?”  I shouted down at him, “Does it make you happy seeing me with the rest of these earthlings?"

Silence.

Dad never answers. I like to think it's because I’m intimidating, but in full honesty, he probably forgot he even sent me up here.

I finished doing my business in the bathroom and started to head out. As soon as I opened the door, I ran headfirst into my girl friend, Cassy. 

Let me clarify. I said girl friend. Not girlfriend. She’s a friend who is a girl. Let’s just say she’s my best friend. 

Anyway, the impact made me stumble back a few steps and knocked all her books out of her arms. 

Cassy had on her normal all-black wardrobe. She claims she’s “emo” but I think she’s just trying to copy my vibe. Her curly blonde hair was pulled back in a high ponytail and her brown eyes widened from the surprise of bumping into me. She was a very pretty girl, but not exactly my type. I’m more into the red beady-eyed creatures of hell. Still, there is something about her eyes that made me first attracted to her. I don’t know what it is, but those big brown eyes just caught my attention I guess. 

“Er- uh sorry Cas,” I said, reaching down to gather her books. I picked up one of her notebooks and her pencil case and stood up to hand it to her. Her eyes met mine and she gave me the weirdest look.

“If you are going to look at me with your crazy eyes, you might as well tell me why,” I said, kind of jokingly, trying to study her face and understand her expression. 

Cassy grabbed the books out of my hands but didn't take her eyes off of me. “Correct me if I’m wrong,” she returned, “but you didn’t have wings yesterday, right?”

At first I didn’t process what she had said but then I realized she hadn’t been looking at me, but behind me. My eyes got wide and I strained my neck to try to get a glimpse at what she was seeing.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a feather.

A feather.

Shit.

I think Dad was playing a game.

I ran back into the bathroom, tugging Cassy’s arm with me. I slammed the door and locked it behind me to make sure no one would interrupt what was about to happen.

I glared back at myself in the same mirror I stood in front of a few moments ago. Cassy was right. Attached to my back, were huge, majestic wings that looked like they were made of silk. 

But something was off.

They were white with a tint of golden glow.

I spun around to face Cassy who was standing behind me. Cassy has always been super laid back. Almost like a stoner who doesn’t do drugs. She kind of just always went with the flow. I think that’s why I liked her so much. She never shows emotion which means she can never get on my nerves. 

“So like, are you an Angel?” she asked, shifting her weight to one hip. 

I have never been so insulted.

My wings are not supposed to be white. White is what angel wings look like. I am no angel. My wings are supposed to be black. Some of my siblings, who Dad likes better than me, have red wings like him. But I’m the annoying middle child so I have the boring black wings. Well, I had them. 

I grabbed Cassy by the shoulders and intensely looked into her eyes, “Look, what I am about to tell you, you can’t tell anyone,” I explained, “if other mortals heard what I was, or even saw what I was…” my voice trailed off.

That’s when I remembered. Mortals can’t see figures of divinity. I mean, they can see them, but its radiant light is supposed to burn right through the human retina and cause the body to shrivel up into ash. 

I eyed Cassy and slowly lowered my hands off her shoulder. She should be dead from seeing my wings. “Cassy,” I said quietly, “what are you?”

She stood straighter and looked offended. “What am I?!” She said aggressively, “You’re the one with wings! What are you?!”

I studied her face more. Then it hit me. The reason I was so attracted to her eyes. They looked just like my mothers. She was a witch back in the 1600s. You know the witch trials you learn about in history class? Ya, well they weren’t wrong when they thought those people had powers. They lived among humans like normal people, but eventually their powers weren’t so secret and people sought to kill them all. My father fell in love with the most powerful witch of all: Merga Bien. They had me and a few hundred other demons. Merga wanted to get married but the stories were right when they said Lucifer hates marriage. He denied her request, so she ran away. I thought she must have died a few centuries ago, but here is my best friend, with no doubt the eyes of my mother. She definitely isn’t my father’s kid though. I tend to know who is my own kind, plus she didn’t smell like death, but Cassy was definitely a child of the most powerful witch in history. And I had a feeling she had no idea. 

“Hello?” Cassy asked, knocking me out of my head, “Are you going to explain this to me or…?”

Right.

There isn’t exactly a book entitled How to Tell Your Best Friend You are A Child of the Devil, and improvisation isn’t really my thing. I knew I had to tell her something, but I had no idea how she was going to react.

“Is this one of those times you want me to lie to protect your delicate emotions?” I asked, allowing my humor to be my coping mechanism.

“For god’s sake,” Cassy rolled her eyes at me, “why are there wings attached to your back?!”

I internally laughed at the irony of her using the phrase “for god’s sake.” In a different circumstance, I could make a pretty good joke out of that. 

“Well...,” I delayed, “what if you don’t believe me?”

“Dude,” Cassy crossed her arms, growing annoyed, “You have white and gold glowing features growing from your spine… I think I will believe anything at this point.”

“Oh ya,” I frowned, “Ignore the whole ‘white and gold’ thing they’re supposed to be black. Dad just decided it would be funny I guess.”

“Black-- Dad--what?” Cassy repeated.

“Basically, I’m the spawn of Satan,” I said, trying to make it sound as casual as possible.

“The Devil?”

“Ya, you know, Lucifer, Satan, ruler of Hell, Lord of the underworld… whatever you refer to him as.”

Cassy took a step back in shock, “Y-You’re a demon?”

“It's ok though,” I reassured her, “I’m obviously not as evil as the stories say.”

“Quiet devil-child, I’m trying to think,” she said putting a hand in between us.

“Ooh, name-calling, so fearsome,” I said, attempting to lighten the mood.

“S-so you're telling me,” Cassy started, “I’ve been best friends with a creature from hell for the entire Sophomore year?”

I shrugged. “Ya pretty much.”

“Cool,” Cassy said, dropping her hand and smiling like she just heard the best news.

“Ya, and one more thing…” I mumbled, “I think you’re my half-sister.”