Page 27 of The Demon's Pet

I looked around and noticed odd, smoky tendrils rising from my skin, everywhere on my body.What the fuck?

“It’s her!” someone said. “She’s burning!”

“A witch!” another screamed. “A demon.”

“I’m not a demon or a witch, you fucking nightmares!” I shrieked back.

But an odd thing was happening. The heat was increasing, and when I looked at my hands, I could see tiny flames licking along the surface of my skin. But I wasn’t burning.

My entire body felt hot, intensely filled with energy, somewhat like the energy when I’d kissed Sam.

As though my anger had taken physical form and was leaking out of me as it multiplied.

I really had no idea, but all of a sudden, I felt the bones in my leg reforming, my cheek and eye as well.

It didn’t even sting, even as I saw the smoke rising and more flames along my skin.

Soon, I was engulfed in fire and stared in wonder as I stood, rocks pinging off me as my body continuously healed.

“How is she not dying?” someone screamed.

“She’s on fire! Put it out!”

Someone ran, probably for water, but looking down at my hands, unburned but consumed in fire, I was pretty sure water wasn’t going to take care of this.

It actually felt good, kind of cooling on my skin, like flowing silk.

It seemed as if I were hallucinating as I stared at my flaming body. Even my clothing wasn’t burning.

But the rocks didn’t hurt where they hit me, and somehow I was healing rapidly.

What the fuck was happening?

I was still distracted, staring at my body, rage flowing through me that this was even happening, when a rock hit the back of my head.

I whirled around to see my father standing there with wrath in his face, his hands clenched, having just thrown the stone.

He glared at me. “How dare you disgrace us, even at this moment? You can’t even die like a member of this pack!”

My mother stood next to him, and in her hands was a rock.

I realized it then. What I was to them. I’d never been a daughter or even a person with her own thoughts and feelings.

I’d always just been something that would either grow up to make them proud or shame them.

My mother’s eyes were wide as she stared at my flaming body, but though others were running for water, she just stood there, pale and gaping.

The way she always did.

Most people were still throwing stones, but a few were now running forward with buckets of water, throwing them at me.

The fire covering me only hissed and climbed higher in response. I knew they weren’t trying to save me, so I supposed they were trying to put out the fire so it wouldn’t spread.

Gods damn it, what had I ever done so wrong to be born here?

My hands clenched into fists, and I could still feel the cool flames between my fingers.

Fuck them. Fuck all of them. Now they have to die.

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