"Those who play with the devil's toys
Will be brought by degrees to wield his sword."

- R. Buckminster Fuller -

The bright light of the rising sun that trickled through the gaps of my window blinds woke me from a deep sleep. The dark figure that haunted my nightmares visited me again last night, but something was different. The dream was more vivid, and I didn't wake up screaming this time.

Somehow, I didn't feel scared of the figure - I felt comforted by its presence. Even when it slowly walked over to me, I wasn't tempted to step back away from it.

I wanted to be closer to it.

I swung my legs over the side of my bed while running my fingers through my knotted hair. The whistle of the kettle boiling downstairs told me that somebody was already awake. I hadn't faced my parents yet; when I arrived home
yesterday from school they weren't there, and I fell asleep earlier than usual so I didn't hear them when they got home.

I took my time in the shower, letting the hot water flow over the top of my shoulders. When I was finished, I wrapped a towel around myself and walked back to my bedroom, combing my wet hair with my fingers.

I could hear muffled voices downstairs; one of them belonged to my mother, the other to Seth. Their conversation wasn't audible, so I dressed hurriedly, determined to know what they were talking about.

When I entered the kitchen, they were no longer talking; my mother was buttering some toast, and Seth was pouring coffee into a large mug. My father sat at the table, sipping his own coffee and flicking aimlessly through the newspaper.

"Good morning, sweetheart," my mother smiled, putting down the knife. "Would you like some toast?"

I glanced at Seth; had he told them yet? As if he knew what I was thinking, he shook his head slowly.

"Yes, please." I smiled back at my mother, who placed some more bread in the toaster.

"So," she said, watching me closely. "Have you..."

"I've been thinking about it, yes," I said, cutting her off before she could finish her sentence.

There was no point in delaying the inevitable; this was the right time to tell them. My father looked up at me, his dark eyes piercing me with their intensity.

Inhale. Exhale. "I'm ready. I want to do this."

The effect of my words were immediate. My mother walked over to me and enveloped me in a hug, and my father stood up from his seat and gripped my arm fiercely. The only affection that either of them had ever given me.

"I'm proud of you," my father said in his deep, gravelly voice.

I felt the moisture forming in my eyes and the tears were threatening to spill over and slide down my cheeks. But I breathed in and smiled at him. I didn't love them; not yet. Not after nineteen years of disregard and dismissal. It would take a lot for me to love my parents, but their acknowledgement of me was a start.

"What happens now?" I asked my parents.

They exchanged a quick glance and then looked back at me.

"A ritual," my mother said. "An acceptance ritual. To see if He will receive you as one of his own."

"What does that mean?" I choked out.

I have to be accepted into this? I've just been accepted by my parents, now I have to be "received" by...Satan? My heart thumped faster at the thought. I wasn't sure what that entailed exactly, but the thought of a ritual sent shivers up and down my back.

"It's a necessary part of starting out in this religion," my father answered. "It's simple. You don't need to be scared."

"What happens if...I don't get accepted?" I asked, my voice shaking slightly.

"Most of the members of the Ayres family have been accepted. I don't doubt that you will be among us," he said.

"Most? What happened to those that didn't?"

"They were no longer an Ayres, to put it simply," Seth said from the table.

The thought of the ritual terrified me, but the thought of not being an Ayres, not even being allowed into your own home, terrified me more.

"We'll do it tomorrow night," my father smiled, squeezing my arm with reassurance. "You'll be fine."

I couldn't concentrate on lessons that day. Algebra and Shakespeare were the furthest things from my mind; all I could think about was what I'd have to do in the ritual. And what would happen if I somehow failed? I'd be tossed out of my own house, left to live in the street. My parents were never the loving type, but surely they weren't cruel enough to leave their own daughter stranded, alone?

As I walked out of my last lesson, I remembered I was meant to be watching Elijah's football game this afternoon. I stuffed my book bag into my locker and walked in the opposite direction to the exit. I had to walk past the locker rooms before I arrived at the football field, and I heard laughters and shouts coming from inside.

Would Elijah want me to wait for him before the game, to wish him luck? The door suddenly swung open and a boy with messy, black hair stood in front of me, his helmet tucked under his arm.

He raised one of his bushy eyebrows and looked me up and down. I felt my cheeks grow hot.

"Can I help you?" he asked, smirking.

"I'm...looking for Elijah," I stuttered.

He looked behind him and yelled for Elijah. He came running almost immediately, and he grinned when he spotted me.

"So this is the girl you won't shut up about?" scoffed the black-haired boy.

My cheeks were burning by this point.

Elijah elbowed him in the ribs playfully, laughing, and the boy then disappeared down the hallway with a couple of his teammates who came jogging out of the door, all of them carrying their helmets under their arms.

"I just wanted to wish you luck before the game," I said as he slipped his fingers through mine.

His free hand traced my jawline and he lifted my chin so my eyes were in line with his. He bit his lip softly and I felt my stomach doing somersaults.

"Thank you," he whispered, pressing his lips to mine.

His tongue lightly brushed my bottom lip as he spun me around and pushed me gently against the wall. My pulse was thudding everywhere. I wrapped my arms around his neck, entwining my fingers in his hair.

He slowly, reluctantly, pulled away and I realized I was slightly breathless.

"Am I distracting you?" I laughed.

"Just a little," he chuckled, kissing me again, but lightly this time. "I gotta go."

"Of course. Good luck," I grinned, squeezing his hand.

He slowly backed away from me, running his hand through his hair, smiling, and walked back into the changing room.

I managed to calm my furious heartbeat before I headed over to the stands surrounding the football field.

Finding a seat was tricky, but I spotted Sage and she waved at me, beckoning me to come and sit next to her.

"Hey, you," she grinned as I collapsed in the seat next to her.

"I didn't realize it was going to be so busy," I said, glancing around at all the people. They were either holding foam gloves - yellow and grey, Oaksten's colors - or large bags of popcorn.

"Never been to a football game?" Sage asked, offering me some of her own popcorn.

I shook my head as I declined her offer. "Nope. Never. I only came to watch Elijah."

"Elijah, huh?" she smirked. "What's going on between you two, then?"

What was going on between us? I definitely liked him. A lot. But I didn't know how these things worked. Relationships.

"I don't know," I admitted.

"Well, has he asked you out yet?"

"No. We've kissed," I said, and then laughed at Sage's expression of excitement.

"Everyone's been talking about Elijah's 'new girl'. But I didn't realize it was you," she grinned.

New girl? I didn't know why I was surprised; captain of the football team, and clearly the most good looking boy in Oaksten - obviously he'd had a girlfriend before he met me. I wondered who she was.

Walking home that night, I still had the ringing of the beating drums and the shouts of the crowd in my ears. Elijah's smile after they won was still engraved into my mind, and the way his eyes scanned the crowd for me when his teammates lifted him up and carried him off the field. His eyes never found me. I was lost in the crowd of people, jumping up and down and cheering.

I shivered, even though I was wearing one of my warmest coats. I peered up at the moon, which was obscured slightly by a group of grey clouds. Praying that the rain would hold off until I arrived home, I pulled my jacket tighter around me and folded my arms.

I suddenly felt an excruciating pain in my left temple and I fell to the floor in shock. Gripping my head with my hand, I cried out in pain, the sharpness of it sending black spots to dance across my vision. I tried to move, but the slightest movement sent a searing pain across the top of my forehead, intensifying each second, until I could no longer see anything.

I could feel my consciousness ebbing away, my screams getting fainter, and the blackness surrounding my vision engulfed me until I was falling into a bottomless oblivion.

Pain. That's all I remembered. Agonizing, stabbing pain.

I knew I had passed out, but for how long? I slowly opened my eyes, wincing at the dazzling light that filled my vision. My first thought was that I was dead, but when my eyes grew accustomed to the light, I realized that I was staring up at the morning sun.

But I was in a different place to where I was last night.

My eyes darted back and forth, trying to figure out where I was. I knew I was no longer in the street I was walking in last time I was conscious, because I wasn't surrounded by houses.

I sat up, slowly, waiting for the pain in my head, but it never came. I looked around.

I was in an empty parking lot.

How did I get here? And how do I get home? I could be miles away from my house, seeing as I didn't recognize this parking lot and the tall, industrial buildings surrounding it.

I squeezed my hands into fists to make sure I had feeling in my fingers, and realized that my hands were wet.

As I glanced down at them, I felt a scream building in my throat, but its escape was hindered by my shock.

My hands were wet with blood.

Image: Lilith Ayres - Crystal Reed
Song: Blood Hands - Royal Blood

© Olivia Clarke 2018
The Devil's Daughter