I've struggled getting into Kale's past, mostly because I don't really know or understand it yet myself. Also, I know almost nothing about demonology (which my wonderful roommate has promised to remedy if I wish) so the story may be awkward or slow from here on. Fair warning. Here's the aftermath of Alexander's announcement and the end of chapter 2. Enjoy!
“WHAT… am I?” His hands slammed down on the table in
punctuation. For a moment there was nothing but silence. Then Alexander spoke.
“A demon.” Alexander looked down then. All the men’s eyes
were focused away from Kale, as if they were giving him a moment to accept and
process the news. The room spun. Some of the dizziness from the scene of the
backwood returned.
Kale simply sat in silence as his mind raced out of control.
This was not like the movies, where all of a sudden things from his past make
sense. Nothing makes sense. Nothing
was sure. He should not trust the men around the table, but he could not stop
from seeing them as long lost brothers from a world he had never known.
He ran his hands over his face only to find he was crying.
This added to the distress, and Kale pounded the table a second time and began
to sob. Thoughts and images of the animal he had killed came to his mind. He
could smell the blood again, and his hands started to shake. The men around the
table continued to look around the room. Surely they must have felt horrible
about giving Kale this news. Surely they would comfort him in some way.
“Really, this is the best thing,” Corten said. “You’ll
finally have something to belong to.”
“And THAT’S what I should be THINKING right now?” Kale
responded.
“Well we—“
“NO. You do NOT get to say what you think or how you feel or
what ANY of you are going to do about it. You have no right to say anything
except ‘I’m sorry’ right now.”
“We didn’t want it to go this way. We had something planned.”
“Oh, so now you’re planning ways to ruin my life.”
“I know you don’t want to hear it—“
“You’re right; I don’t. Get me out of here before I kill all
of you just like that thing from the
backwood.”
“Fine. Let’s go.” Corten stood and grabbed Kale’s arm before
leading him out of the room, through the darkness and the hallway, outside,
down the stairs, and into Corten’s car. They drove in silence. Kale could tell
Corten was avoiding him for his own sake, and maybe that was for the best. They
really weren’t very good friends in the whole scheme of things. Kale let his
mind drift, and some of the adrenaline left him, leaving him exhausted and
apathetic. Corten opened his door for him when they reached the building and
stood by the car waiting for Kale to get out. Kale gave Corten a disappointed
look before walking away and going inside without a word.
Kale kicked off his shoes right inside the door of his
apartment and dropped his jacket right on top of them. He rubbed his forehead
with one hand and staggered into the kitchen to grab a bottle of water. He
hadn’t eaten in several hours, but his appetite was nonexistent. Sitting at the
small round table in the dining room reminded him too much of the darkroom, so
he walked to the couch and sat without turning on the TV. He just wanted to
think.
You’re not even human.
Did Corten mean to say that? Obviously the men were planning
on telling him at some point, but from the looks of it they needed more
information before they could make a judgment about what he was. They needed something from the backwood to tell them
about him. What had he done? Should he have let the animal maul him instead of
killing it? Should he not have fallen asleep? Did he pick up the machete too
fast after it hit the ground?
There really wasn’t a way of knowing what or why or how on
his own. They promised they would explain, and Kale would make sure they followed
through with their promise.
I just find it so amusing sometimes to watch you try to be a man. I
mean, all things considered.
Was Corten mocking
him when he left him in the backwood? Before he knew it, Kale had grabbed the
stack of magazines scattered across the floor next to the couch and was
throwing them at the wall beside the TV. He watched with a scowl on his face as
the paint chipped and the drywall crumbled in tiny pieces.
Collapsing back on the couch, Kale knocked over his water
with his foot and realized he had stopped caring. His eyes closed. He began to
examine every strange moment of his life in detail. It was terribly hard to
remember when his mind felt clouded with something foreign. He felt powerless
and out of control. The world drifted away and all that was left was the answer
to the worst question Kale had ever asked.
What am I?
A demon.
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