My Fallen Demon

Chapter Two

FINN

"You don't try hard enough."

My eyes were glued to the floor as Dad lectured me for the third time this week. Sweat was slick on my forehead, and I raised a hand to prevent it from sliding into my eyes.

"My professors are all more than satisfied with my progress. I get straight A's in all my courses," I retorted quietly. And it was true. Despite not putting much effort into it, my grades were nothing short of excellent. I barely practiced or studied, he was right about that, but I didn't see a reason to waste my time when I could do everything that was asked of me. I was top of my class.

"That's the problem. You only care about your grades. You won't always be competing against your classmates. When you're looking to climb up the hierarchy, you'll be put against others who are better than you. You need to stop being so conceited and practice in your spare time—practice skills harder than what you're taught in school. All you do is go out with your friends. You're never home. You don't practice enough."

You don't try hard enough. You don't practice enough.

My bottom lip trembled ever so slightly at Dad's accusation, and I hastily looked away. Think happy thoughts. Happy thoughts, happy thoughts, happy thoughts. Whenever he brought up the matter, my vulnerable side shone through. I was unsure if it was because it was true—I barely practiced the skills I learned and never bothered to attempt any combat skills not in the curriculum—or because he never praised me for my grades, and always told me that for every good there's always a better.

While Mom was excessively proud and showered me with kisses and hugs whenever she received good news from my professors, Dad rarely showed even the slightest sign of pride. I knew he loved me; that was why I could never stay angry at him for long, though that didn't prevent my vulnerable side from showing whenever he lectured me.

I often wondered what he'd think, or if he would do anything differently, if he knew I sometimes cried myself to sleep at night. I craved for him to praise me and to stop minimizing my achievements, but never had the courage to say so. I was very much aware it was unhealthy for me, but there was nothing I could bring myself to do. Dad was my one and only weakness; getting his approval meant everything to me, regardless of whether or not I wanted it to.

I pretended to stretch as my sleeve brushed over my wet eyes to hide the evidence of my tears. I wouldn't allow Dad to realize how much his words affected me. It was ironic how everyone, my friends that Dad despised included, thought I had no problems to deal with whatsoever. Yet here I stood, nearly in tears because of some stupid words.

How could measley letters woven together trigger such an emotional reaction? How could I allow them to?

"That's enough for today," Dad said as he made his way out of the empty room. The bareness of it made me feel small and insignificant. Dad gripped the door frame before leaving, his knuckles turning white from the pressure, and turned his head to look at me. "Practice what we went over today. We'll pick up where we left off tomorrow."

When the door shut silently behind him, I waited a few seconds as his footsteps receded down the mansion's hall before allowing a tear to crawl down my cheek. More followed its lead, mixing with my sweat. I furiously wiped my face again with the back of my sleeve, this time not bothering to conceal the action.

It took a few seconds to calm down, but when I did I realized it was stupid to do anything excpet shower right now. As much as I wanted to run away for a while, to forget my life, I needed to clean myself first. I took the fastest shower in my entire life. I didn't allow the hot water to slither down my skin for seconds, minutes, hours while I wallowed in my pity like I usually did. I didn't allow any thoughts to consume me and distract me from the task at hand—showering. When I tugged on clean clothes mere minutes later I felt more relaxed, but that didn't stop me from remembering Dad's words.

I needed to get away. Far, far away. Somewhere I wouldn't be found by anyone.

I knew just where to go. The place lured me in when my inner turmoil affected my composure. If I told Dad, he'd scoff and say it was a place like any other, that there was nothing special about it. But deep down I felt it calling out to me. I often didn't give in to the intuitive urges, afraid I was turning insane, but sometimes I couldn't help it. It always provided me with the solace I longed for when I couldn't contain my turbulent emotions under wraps.

I sometimes wondered whether it was possible the humans had done some sorcery to the spot, but then I remembered how idiotic they all were. As if they could discover a way to harness magic and control it. Magic wasn't even real; I wasn't young enough to believe the fairytales were true anymore.

If anyone could grab a twig, wave it around, and hence make all their wishes come true, life would be a lot easier.

But only physical force got tasks done. The sooner humans were under His command and trained for battle, the sooner demons could overpower angels once and for all. I wouldn't worry about that now, though. The last thing I desired while I was in such a state was to rack my brain for a brilliant plan to control humans before the prissy angels could beat us to it. I would brainstorm ideas to make my father proud only after I visited my special place.

It was merely a minor drawback that it happened to be located in the Human Realm, a world demons were forbidden to enter unless they had express permission from Him.