The Devil Inside

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Chapter Three

Not all of us feed off of death and misery. Some feed off of luck. Ever wonder how someone down to their last penny wins? That would be one of us. There is no chance in anything. Just us.

Others feed off of sexual desire. The geeky girl who gets straight A's, who suddenly becomes a whore and a drop out. That would be because of us. One of us watching as she indulges in depraved sexual acts. Watching as she chokes on some guys cock, or gets roughly taken from behind. The taste of the vile emotions filling the room would be enough to feed for a week.

Others feed off of guilt. The guilt of a cheating husband is so sublime that some of us have over fed on it so much that they don't have to eat again for month.

Me though? I prefer death, destruction and hurt. Where possible I like to mix them together, or mix them with others. Death mixed with sexual pleasure is outstanding! The thrill of a sexual act mixed with taking a life. Oh how that satisfy's my hunger. Especially when the life taken is female. Watching one minute how she is lying there, pleasure abound, the next minute it's replaced with fear and desperation, then dread. When the life is taken, if I was human, I would be shooting my fucking load everywhere. That's what excites me the most. That's what I look for.

Some of us will stay with one human for years. If someone seems extra lucky, you know why. If someone constantly fails, you know why. If someone is a completely dirty bitch, always on the look out for cock and/or pussy, you know why. I on the other hand, don't. Each of you has a different taste. I like to expand my palette, tasting as many different flavours, if you will, that I can. Plus you have the problem of disintegration with staying with the same person for a prolonged period of time.

The human brain is designed to think for itself. If it thinks about doing one thing, and we make it do another constantly, then the pressure takes its toll. I have seen brains actually melt from being told to do too many things all the time. Some of us have a problem knowing when enough is enough. Knowing when the mind we are controlling is going into melt down.

It tends to happen in stages. First the subject will suffer dizzy spells. Then the next warning is repeating nose bleeds and or slurred speech. Of course the final sign is when the brain starts to leak through the nose. But by then it tends to be a little too late. So far it hasn't happened to me. But I have seen it happen to others. If the subject is lucky they die, if they aren't, they tend to end up mentally retarded.

Other than faith, there are a few other factors that can affect our control over your frail bodies. The main one being the amount of alcohol you have consumed. If you have much more then a buzz, then you find it hard to listen to us. Either you completely ignore us, or take what we say wrong. Often you will end up doing something completely different instead of what we had in mind. Sometimes it can be fun to watch you stumble and fumble around, other times it becomes a complete fucking nightmare. More than once I have left a drunken person who wouldn't listen to me, only to return with someone else and slit their throat, just because I am so pissed off. One thing you do not want to do is piss us off.

I tried once to stay with a subject for a while. Things seemed to be going well. He would do as I told him. I would watch him rape and kill young girls in the back alleys. Feeding off of all the emotions going through him. Sexual desire when he saw his mark. Excitement when cornering someone. The fear of being caught as he raped her. The feeling of climax as he exploded inside or over her. The anger of what he had done. Pain at the thought of what would come next. A godly feeling as he slit their throats and cut their flesh. Almost bathing in their blood.

Things were going well. We would hunt at night. The darkness covering our tracks. But then one night he was seen. A homeless guy happened to be taking a nap behind a dumpster as I made him rape his tenth victim. He made too much noise. It was my fault, I was whispering in his ear, exciting him. But he woke the homeless guy.

At first I figured it didn't matter. After all, who in their right mind is going to believe a fucking down-and-out. But then it happened. He spotted me too.

It was the first time I had been seen. At least it was the first time I was aware of being seen. The homeless guy started to shout. Telling my victim to stop. Asking him what he was doing. Then his eyes locked on me. I was taken aback. The homeless guys eyes were wide, large and brown. He stared straight at me. Looking me up and down.

I didn't know what to do at first. Was he some sort of holy man? Down on his luck? Was he a crazy that had just got lucky? I couldn't leave my subjects side because of I did he would slowly realise what he had done. His memories of the ten girls would come back and it would have probably meant that he would have killed himself. I didn't want that at the time. I was enjoying staying with this one. He seemed to have a taste for it. Seemed to almost enjoy it as much as me.

The hobo started pointing at me. Shouting at me. Trying to show my subject what I was. My subject was confused. After all he was in the middle of a serious crime, worried about being caught, and there was some stupid old fucking man standing in front of him, waving a finger over his shoulder shouting about demons. To be honest, if I had been in his position I would have been confused too.

The confusion was having an affect on what he was listening to. I whispered at him to seize this bastard and rip out his fucking windpipe. But he just stood there. Shaking his head. Trying to figure out what was wrong.

The old man walked towards me. Still shouting. He had a stick, and was aiming it at me, making little thrusting gestures with it, as if it would see me off. I was starting to loose patience. Shouting now at my subject to cave this bastards head in.

I noticed my subjects nose. Two streaks of red had started to pour from his nostrils as he became more and more confused and I shouted more and more at him. That's when I knew that tonight would be my last night with him. He was almost gone. If I didn't leave him now and let him remember, he was going to die anyway. But I really didn't want to let this old cunt get away with ruining my hunt.

As my rapist fell to the ground, I walked away from him. Only a little, but enough, just enough so he would start to remember. The old man rushed over to him, trying to help him. Thinking he might be able to spare him.

No old cunt. Not tonight. I knelt down beside the intended victim. A young girl of around fifteen. Why she had been roaming the streets alone in the middle of the night is anyone's guess. But hey! It was a common occurrence. Young girls wearing hardly any clothing, walking around on their own between drinking dens. You would think they would have the sense not too. But I guess fitting in with the crowd was more important to her.

"Wake the fuck up" I whispered in her ear.

Her eyes instantly opened. Wide and awake. Willing to do whatever I wanted. I told her to pull her panties back up and pick up a brick from beside the dumpster.

The old man had foolishly turned his back. He thought that I had been walking away, leaving him to it. He was too busy trying to help the already dying man on the alley floor.

I made the girl creep up behind him, slowly raising the brick above her head. He didn't even turn around. I made her bring the brick down on the very top of his head hard. You could hear his skull shatter as she hit him. Blood started to ooze from the wound. He was down beside the other. Lying motionless. But I wasn't done yet. I wanted him to pay for seeing me. Ruining my fun. Ruining my fucking dinner!

I told her to kneel down beside him, bring the brick down on the side of his head this time. The rough surface of the brick tearing into the skin. Blood and tissue splatting against the cobbles of the alleyway. I smiled as she did it again and again. His cheek muscle coming away completely, exposing his rotten yellow teeth.

I whispered again in her ear. She reached into the first mans pocket. Pulling out a flick knife. Oh how ironic. The knife had been meant to have been used on her throat, but now she was the one in control.

I issued more commands and she obeyed without hesitation. Plunging the knife into the hobo's eye. The sound of it popping made me laugh hard. Just to make sure my revenge had been carried out until the end I got her to slice his dirty throat wide open. Reaching her hand into the open wound and grasping the mans spine. Telling her to pull with all her might until there was a sickening crack.

I then did something I had never done before, and I'm unlikely to do again. I whispered to her and I walked away. My final whisper had been simple. Just one word.


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