Page 134 of Deliver us from Evil

It should have been comforting, but I know who these arms belong to, and I don’t want to be anywhere near him.

My scream gets stuck in my throat. It’s barely a wheeze. Fingers tangle in my hair and drag my head back. My blindfold is ripped off.

There’s a click.

Light blooms, sickly yellow, from the bulb dangling above us.

I’m in the basement of 2142 Maude Street, but it’s larger now. The floor is covered with dirty, blood-stained mattresses.

And there’s a small, curled up body on each. Their shadows shift and dance as the light bulb swings left and right.

Almost makes them look alive.

I stare into my father’s face, and Keith Malone looks down at me without expression.

Nails scrape against the floor. Plastic sheeting now—no longer concrete.

The panting comes closer.

I try to move away, but Keith is holding me too tight.

“You should be dead,” he says. “I told them to kill you.”

Nick and Jess. Are they here? With Keith’s grip in my hair, I can’t turn around to look. I can’t even see how close the panting, crawling thing is that was following me in the dark.

“I will have to rectify that, child.”

Keith’s head snaps back. His mouth opens, but too wide.

Much too fucking wide.

A long, serpentine tongue uncoils and slaps onto my upturned face. I try to cringe away, but he’s keeping me rooted to the spot.

His tongue leaves a layer of slime on my skin as it slithers down my neck, like a slug working its way down my skin. With a tug, he pulls down the front of my dress. I try to collapse in on myself, to hide my nakedness, but I can’t. Not with my hands still bound.

His tongue creeps over my shoulder like a blind, wet snake. Searching. Hunting over my naked skin.

I try to scream, but I can’t draw enough breath. My lungs are too tight.

The panting thing reaches my feet. Ragged nails scrape over my skin as it claws its way up my body.

It’s smaller than me, but it’s angry.

Sofucking angry.

It wants to hurt anything, anyone.

Its hands grab my skirt as it tries to lift itself. As it tries to climb higher. My dress slides down to my hips and threatens to go all the way down my legs.

All the while that tongue leaves sticky trails over my breast, a nipple, the hollow in my throat.

The panting thing catches hold of my wrist. Drags itself up. The exertion makes it breathe faster. Like a dog back from a run. Quick and hard.

The sound comes closer as it crawls up my back.

Hair snags in my fingers.

And then I know what it is.

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