I Was Free Once

Chapter 12

It was cold upon entering the place.

It was dim and hard to see, but I didn’t need my sight to know where I was going. My grip on the dagger was tighter than ever and I stood ready to strike at any given moment. As I descended the spiral staircase, I felt a breath of cold air on the back of my neck. I spun around to find a demon standing behind me.

“He’s waiting for you,” the demon hissed. “There’s no turning back; I’m to make sure of it…”

“Well, you don’t have to worry about that, because I’m not coming out until he’s dead.”

“You really don’t know what you’re up against, do you? Well, have fun dying.”

I looked down to the ground and back up again. “Yeah, you, too.” Before I had even finished speaking, I had stabbed him through the heart. His pathetic body fell to the ground with a thud. I turned around and continued on my way.

As I came to the landing at the bottom of the stairs, the long hall that stretched before me was chillingly familiar. I reached my right hand out and felt the distinct pattern of iron bars and concrete pass underneath my fingers. I stopped after several repetitions and looked into the darkness to my right.

This was the hellhole I had spent the last five years of my life in. I hoped I’d never have to come back again. But, somehow, all along, I knew that Sal’s buying me wasn’t the last I’d see of this filthy dungeon.

I continued to walk forward until I knew I had come to the entrance of the circular room at the end of the hall that contained that damned beating post. The strong smell of smoke emanated from that room. He was in that room; I could feel his presence even in complete darkness. I heard a bone chilling voice come from across the room that stood before me.

“Hello, Darien. Long time, no see.”

“Show yourself, you bastard.” A vicious laugh was given to me in reply.

“Allow me to shed some light on this situation…” And with a snap of his fingers, all the torches surrounding the room dimly lit. In the middle of the room was the post, with Sal chained to it.

“Sal!” I yelled, running to free him.

“Darien, no!” replied Sal in a raspy voice. “It’s a trick.” But, before he could finish his sentence I felt my body thrown across the room with extreme force. As I crashed into the wall, I looked up to see my father walking out of a dark space on the other side of the room.

His cerulean hair fell to his elbows and in front of his red, glowing eyes. As he moved closer towards me, he unveiled his black, bat-like wings and bared his razor sharp teeth. His skin was a charcoal color, the same as my wings. In his one claw, he held a lit cigarette.

“Heh, heh, heh… Well, well, well. If it isn’t my long lost son!” He took a drag and then put out the cigarette on the ground. He had a menacing smile on his face. I stood up to face him. “My how you’ve grown!” he exclaimed, sarcastically.

“Cut the shit.”

“Now, now, Darien,” he continued in such a voice that you would use with a child, “there’s no reason for such language.”

“Why don’t you just shut the hell up?” I could feel my insides writhing because of how enraged I was. I looked on the ground for the dagger, but I didn’t see it anywhere.

“Looking for this?” I looked up to see my father throwing it from one claw to the other. I reached to swipe it, but instead my wrist was caught in his claw. He began to twist my arm. I tried to resist, but he was stronger than I was and he proceeded to break my arm.

“Shit!” I screamed, as he continued to grab my other arm.

“Now, that I have your attention, will you listen to me? Or should I just break this arm too?” I tried to heal the broken arm with the white magic I had, but, unlike my broken foot, I was not able to fix my arm. “That simple charm doesn’t work when black magic’s involved in the injury, you know.” I looked at my right arm; it had already started to bruise.

“What do you want?” I asked through gritted teeth.

“What do I want? I just wanted to finish up my part of deal we made.” He placed his one claw over my left shoulder where the bullet wounds were. “Remember?”

“All too well.”

He let me go and backed up a bit from me. “Let’s see if you’ve lived up to your end of the deal. I know I have so far…”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, let me think… dead mother, imprisoned, burnt wings…”

“You ordered the burning of my wings?!” He laughed. “You son of a bitch!”

“Actually,” he answered, running his right claw along the wall making a horrible screeching noise, “you’re the son of a bitch. My mother was just fine.”

Without another thought, I ran after him with everything I had to throw at him.