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“911, what’s your emergency?”
“I-uh… I think I’m going to die?” Evan spoke between gasps for air, pressing as hard down on the hastily bandaged wound as he could. Already his fingers were becoming numb.
“Ok sir, now just hold on I’m going to transfer you through to the ambulance service, ok?” The phone slipped from his hand, clattering onto the ground moments before his body joined it. The operator’s voice grew muffled as Evan blindly reached out for the phone. Something cold and heavy pressed down on his weakly flailing hand, crushing it into the dirt beneath him. He already knew he wouldn’t see anything if he looked. Although their presence was ever constant, they never showed themselves to him. He could feel his own bones beginning to pierce through his skin as the pressure grew. Panicked breathing overtook his body as he forwent his bandaged side in an attempt to claw at the invisible force crushing his other hand. It barely made an impact, numb fingertips weakly brushing against the pinned hand. Blood oozed from the side wound, beginning to soak the side of his shirt and pool onto the floor.
“F-Fuck… Please, stop.” Evan groaned through both the crushing pain in his hand and the shooting pain in his side. If he had enough energy, he might have thrown up at the sight of his finger bones protruding through the palm of his hand. Instead, hyperventilating, blood loss delirium, the sound of flesh tearing and bones cracking, he could only focus on the dark laughter at the base of his skull. The source of all of this.
Cursed from the day he was born; the demons had never left him alone. Him or those he interacted with. Regardless of whether they were a family member or simply a random stranger he passed by; they would treat them all the same. Pawns to play with in their attempts to break him. After all, it’s much easier to get into something once it has cracked.
That’s why, after years of destroying home situations and any chance at some form of relationships just by existing, Evan took to the road. Solitude was hard, definitely, but the reduced risk was reason enough for him. The trade-off was the constant noise from the unwanted inhabitants in his body. It ranged between full conversations and shouting to the tiniest whispers, but they never left. Not completely. The constant low, subconscious hum was always there to remind him.
‘Are you ready to die, Evan?’ The voice snapped Evan from his haze, bringing him painfully back into the moment. He couldn’t see at all anymore; he briefly wondered if he had gone blind permanently.
“A-At least… I’ll be rid… o-of you.” He forced the words, slurred as they were, through his cracked, bloodied lips. There was some slight solace in that fact. If Evan died, he would no longer be a danger to anyone else. He would be free from the endless torment from these beings. He had no idea what awaited him after death; most likely some kind of hell, he assumed. Where else would he go, after everything he had done?
Several tones layered on top of each other into a cacophony of laughter. ‘Oh sweet Evan. Did you really think it would be that simple?’ Evan felt his blood – somehow – run even colder than before.
“W-What…?” He asked weakly, not even having the strength to flinch away from the phantom touches that he felt around his wrists, his ankles, his neck. Somehow, even though most of his body had lost feeling, he could very much feel the touches of his demons.
‘Evan… We won’t let you leave.’ The voice whispered. ‘You are ours, and ours alone, for eternity.’ More hands – or at least that was the closest approximation Evan had for the appendages – found their way onto his body. Pressing down on his chest. Pressing into the wound in his side, onto the exposed bones in his hand. Drawing out each morsel of pain and torture they could for their own pleasure. Even without the energy to scream or grunt or gasp, Evan could feel the ripple of delight that passed through his demons as his consciousness slipped away. ‘Enjoy your death Evan. We’ll see you again soon.’
Evan awoke with a start, pain stabbing through his body at the sudden movement. The feeling retreated quickly. Too quickly. Evan felt the hastily bandaged wound in his side, hand stilling at the unbroken flesh beneath his fingers. He glanced down in the little light from the phone booth he had and, as if by magic, it was as his fingers had felt. No wound in sight. Even his crushed hand had been fixed, no bones piercing through skin. If it weren’t for the lingering pain and the bloodied bandage still around his waist, he might have believed it was all a hallucination. The phone still hung from the cord; the line long gone dead. It swayed in a wind that wasn’t there.
Slowly, painfully, Evan pushed himself to his feet. He wasn’t exactly sure what his plan would be now. It was dangerous to be travelling at night. Not that he had to worry about dying, apparently. The realisation sent a shiver through his body. “I can’t die.” The thought repeated in his head, over and over. Some might be elated at the thought of immortality. Evan was most certainly not.
“…Fuck.” He groaned, forcefully rubbing his eyes, before deciding to walk away as fast and as far as he could from the place of his death. The unsettling sound of demonic laughter haunted him for the rest of that night.