DEMONS

DEMONS


I could see you across the room. Seeing you happy and smiling, I willed my body to relax. I took deep breaths, relaxed my shoulders and finally gained control over my trembling fingers.


It’s surprising how seeing someone you love be so happy can calm you down so easily.

However, these were just minutes of calm before the storm.


Before you noticed them, I spotted them, making their way over to you. They were lifeless, empty demons looking for innocent, vulnerable guys to feed upon.


The hair on the back of my neck stood up and a shiver passed my body. This was their way to hunt down prey, like how a giant centipede paralyzes its prey and then eats them, they first paralyze their prey with their captivating beauty and attractive ways. Now, only someone who has faced their own demons would realize that such beauty could only be a facade to hide the darkest of souls.

But you, being unaware of this, start up a conversation with them.


I try shouting out to you, to warn you. But somehow no words reach my lips I can hear them in my head but nothing comes out. Panic washes over me yet again. I beg my mind to calm the high waves of panic washing away all anchors of stability and saneness.


I try reasoning with myself, thinking he must have not heard me over the noise of the other people, so I try again. This time, I raise my hand to capture your attention. But then I realize they are shaking out of control, so with all my will, I try stopping it. The shaking had become so much a part of my system that it travelled from my hands up my arms, down my torso and into my legs. Now, my legs were shivering. But ignoring that, I finally raise my hand and attempt to call out to you once again, hoping you’ll notice me, break out of their trance and come back to me.


But you don’t.


You don’t even seem to notice anyone around you. On closer inspection I realise that you’ve got the look of acceptance and awe in your eyes. You seem to be enthralled by them. One of them takes a step closer to you, and you don’t mind. Then she places a hand on your shoulder and you don’t flinch. As if under a spell, your hand starts moving towards her leg. 

As soon as your hand touches her body, all goes to hell inside of me. I try shouting, screaming but feel like I am underwater. And no one is there to hear me struggling. I close my eyes and I can feel the ocean around me. I try kicking my legs and hands but in the feeble attempt I manage to only increase the pressure of the oceans on me as I keep drowning, faster and faster.

In one last attempt, yearning for all of this to be a dream. I dig my nails deep into my palm. The pain that surge through my body jolts me awake and out of the ocean back to the class, with you in front, confirming all of this in fact, is happening. 


A part of me wants to shield my eyes away from what is happening, but  the other part of me urges to keep looking. She takes one last step towards you, closing the distance between you two to less than a foot.


I look around the class, trying to find something to help me. I notice people in front of me, I shout out to them. This time, I'm pretty sure sound does come out of my mouth, but no one seemed to hear it. It was as if it was not me physically being present there, but just a spirit, who could see, touch, feel everything but not be heard or seen.


Everyone seemed oblivious of what was happening in front of the room as well as at the back.


Realizing there is nothing left that I could do, panic creeps back into my mind, snatching away the control from my conscience and taking over.


It blocks my windpipe and breathing becomes a struggle, and my eyes, they start watering, blurring my vision. I attempt to wipe my wet eyes, but my hands are trembling so much, I try getting up, trying to support my wobbling legs. I somehow manage to escape the room and head for the bathroom.


Throughout the way, I urge my body to not give up and control the tears. Once I reach the bathroom, I get inside a cubicle, lock it behind me and finally let all out.


I realize all this time I had had my hands balled into fists, I open them and through my watery eyes look at them. I sit on the toilet seat, put my elbows on my knees and look at my palms, just in the horizontal line of the thumb,there are four crescent shaped red marks. I stare at them, trying to imagine where I gained the strength to dig into my palm. I give up, and run my hand through  my hair, willing my heartbeat to slow down and taking deep breaths.


I stand up and try pacing around in the small area. I try to control my breathing and my trembling. After a few minutes,I flush the unused toilet, get out, look at my blood-red eyes and wash my face. Already having an excuse ready for the red eyes. That is in case anyone cared enough to ask. I look down at my hands while making my way back to class and cover my palms with the sleeves of my jacket. One last precaution, so that no one sees what I go through.




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