June of 2013

It was a lovely day for running. The sun was shining, the wind was blowing, and all I could hear was the pounding of my shoes against the concrete and the occasional traffic. For that, I was thankful, because if I had too many witnesses to my current running state, I would die of embarrassment. I am not a runner. In fact, I hated running, but I was late and I had woken up in the middle of nowhere.

Luckily, I was nearby the diner I happen to work at. Unluckily, I was still in my pajamas. I was hoping for a miracle. I spotted the diner and half-ran, half-died through the door. Before I could compose myself, I was greeted by my boss, a rather moody old lady named Eleanor.

"Eleanor, I can explain," I automatically gasped. She put up a hand sharply.

"You're fired," Eleanor stated, "I don't want to hear it, run on home." I stared open-mouthed at her. I couldn't believe it... well, I could actually. I had already known this was going to happen eventually, but I couldn't believe she expected me to run home.

"But I didn't mean to," I pleaded desperately in a small voice.

"This is the 3rd time this week alone you've been late, and each time it's something else. You've slept walked, your car broke down, your grandma died, yada yada. This was your last chance, young lady, so you can march yourself on out of here," Eleanor waved her hands in a shooing motion towards me. I felt my shoulders slump in defeat and scooted myself out the door in disappointment.

It was true that I did have a bad habit of being late to work, and that perhaps I may have fabricated some stories to try to cover myself for it, but it was better than explaining the truth. Sometimes I had feelings, strange feelings like images similar to dreams, which led me to strange places. And sometimes those dreams resulted in me sleepwalking in the middle of the night. I was never sure if I was just mentally ill or special, but whatever it was it didn't care what kind of schedule I had.

After finally being graced with a phone to call my roommate, I was able to get a ride back to my living arrangement. Honestly, I was basically living off my roommate at the time, a girl named Liv who was a bit of a rock star living off her parents' income. She had the occasional gig at some bars and weddings then spent the rest of her time playing video games like Call of Duty and World of Warcraft. But you can't keep Liv from dreaming.

I, meanwhile, had found her on an ad left at the doorstep of my mother's temporary house requesting a roommate when I was 16 years old. Basically, I paid monthly for a room in her apartment but could use the entire apartment except her room as my own. Sure, I sometimes was late on payments, but by now Liv was used to having me around and preferred me to some fool she didn't know. This also wasn't my first time being fired from my job, but I wasn't too worried because I did happen to be decently good at charming people during interviews.

I didn't have family nearby that I knew of. I had lost my mother to cancer years ago and she had left my father years and years before that. The only thing I was left with was his name, which my mother kept as mine: Monet. Elysia Monet. My mother kept her maiden name, which was Brooks. What impression I did have of my father wasn't good because anytime I tried to speak of him, my mom would only say he was insane and she'd hoped I'd never meet him. That was enough warning for me to never try to find him. Now I was 19 years old, living in New Jersey, and struggling to not wake up in an airfield trying to locate some lost medallion of an ark or something.

Liv was planning to go to a gig once it got dark out, so I was looking forward to a night alone. We didn't own any pets, even though we both loved animals, mostly because we couldn't afford any at the time and they were a hassle to take care of. So I was in for a quiet night, perhaps reading books, watching programs, and skimming online ads for jobs that perhaps I'd have luck in not being fired from.

I didn't quite have many friends, I believe because I was strange and antisocial. But I didn't think I was strange in a super weird mysterious way. It was more like I had moved around so much when I was younger and couldn't be bothered to put myself out there. In fact, the apartment with Liv was the longest I'd stayed put, and probably because she barely talked to me. We had a great understanding of each other. That and I didn't have the heart to move too far from where my mother had died. Besides that, I didn't get out much. The jobs I did get usually had some very weird coworkers who were near malicious drama-makers. That or they were out of my age group.

This was also why I didn't have much of a sex life either. I had the occasional boyfriend, but due to my lack of commitment, the relationship never expanded much. I didn't think I was very unattractive. I didn't look much like my mother, who was an average looking blonde before her cancerous ending. I figured I must have taken after my father's side, which included light red hair which currently was mid-back length and a mass of untamed wavy semi-curls, ivory skin sprinkled with small freckles, and crystal blue eyes. Where my mother was sturdy and somewhat busty, I was petite and a size B cup. Still, the face made it easy to get tips, but hard to be taken seriously.

My most unique feature I would say I had would be the mark I had on my back from as far back as I could remember. It was a pale pink design starting from the left side of my shoulder and branching across my back to my right hip. The doctors called it a Lichtenberg figure, or perhaps a fractal scarring, but my mother never could explain where it came from. It wasn't ugly, though... startling perhaps, but not ugly. At least, not to me.

I was sitting in the living room flipping through channels on television in case something interesting was to come on when Liv exited her cave with her guitar case and some other equipment. I glanced at her which invited some form of acknowledgement of my presence.

"Did you have any dreams about my gig tonight?" Liv asked humorously, knowing a bit about my predicament after having to fetch me so many times. I thought back to the dream I had, only recalling demons with human faces and confusion. I did hear something related to Liv, though, and smirked.

"Something about you being lucky," I responded honestly.

"Sweet, cya," Liv lifted her right hand with her equipment up slightly in effort to wave goodbye and then disappeared through the door. I found reruns of 'That 70s Show' and decided this was better than looking for employment, spreading out the couch lazily. I ended up dozing after just a couple episodes into a peaceful sleep, which I was always grateful for.

There was a sudden knock on the door and I jerked awake suddenly. For a second, I wasn't sure if I had imagined it. I didn't usually get visitors and most people who knew Liv knew when she'd be out playing with her band. But there came another knock without fail. I looked down at my body to make sure I wasn't naked, which was one of my favorite outfits when home alone, but after noting that I did still have a pair of comfortable shorts and a tank top on, I got up from the couch.

I reached the door and hesitated before looking through the peep hole to see a regular looking girl who appeared something similar to one of Liv's friends. "Who is it?" I called through the door. The girl smiled brightly.

"I'm supposed to be dropping something off here," she replied simply. It was a bit vague, but she was just a girl and knowing Liv and her friends, they weren't very good with communication.

"You're Liv's friend?" I asked to verify.

"Yeah, is she here?"

I unlocked the door and opened it. "She's out with the band," I told the girl, who stood only a couple inches taller than me. I was small, but I still stood 5'4 so I wasn't super short. More like average. But when it came to body mass and muscle, I was tiny compared to most other girls. "Come on in. Her room is this way."

I turned away to lead the way when I got a strange feeling. Turning, I noted the girl smirked haughtily before her pupils bled over her eyes and fangs appeared between teeth. And then she snarled, rage filling that demon's face.

I must admit, I probably should have run. Or I don't know, fight? Isn't that the two reactions? But I was 100% sure I had fallen asleep and was having a more vivid dream than usual and any moment now I would wake up in some unknown place having to find my way back to my apartment. So I did what I did in my dreams. I frowned, narrowed my eyes, and tried to focus on the information being provided as though I were an outsider looking in.

And then I was in the air, hanging by my throat in the grip of this demonic girl who looked as though she'd love nothing more than to have my head pop off my shoulders. This knockback into reality allowed me to begin to panic. I grabbed her hand, kicking my feet viciously, and struggled to breathe around her grip. As I struggled, more figures emerged into the room, forming around us menacingly. I felt my vision swimming, losing focus as I strangled, and I lost the ability to struggle.

Then the girl suddenly dropped me on the ground as though I were a sack of meat. When I landed, I was all bone and floor, but I didn't feel or hear anything crack thankfully. I sucked in air desperately, coughing it out before swallowing it back into my lungs. Tears were running down my face in protest, and I moved my hand up to wipe them away.

An extremely strong hand grabbed my wrist forcefully before it could reach my tears, pulling me to my feet viciously so that I felt as if my arm was going to be ripped from the socket. I cried out, both due to the force of the grip and to the image of the terrifying figure which had me in its grip.

"Is the roommate here?" the demonic figure asked the others.

"No, she's gone," the girl answered darkly.

"She's lucky," one of the other creatures snickered.

"It doesn't matter, we've got what we came for," the figure stated, glaring at me with the utter most hatred I'd ever seen in any creature and it was all directed at me.

"What are you?" I asked, terrified, "What do you want?"

There was a collective sound of the most horrifying snarling, as though I had offended them by speaking. No, probably by existing at all. All I knew was that this wasn't a dream, as evidence by the immense pain in my wrist that was gaining momentum as time passed. At my question, the figure gripping me shifted, grabbing a handful of my hair and pulling back painfully. I screamed in agony and fear, my throat bared beneath him.

"I. Want. Zachary. Monet," The creature growled his voice thick with venom.

My father?