You are a demon and you met a young girl with abusive parents. You pity her and decide to teach her what symbol to draw to summon you. You pick up a stick, grab her hand, and show her how it’s done. It’s 3AM, and you have just been summoned to the girl’s house.
I show up in my normal array of fire and smoke to see her sitting in front of the symbol, clutching the black marker she uses to complete my symbol every time. I look down at her. Her head is down and her hair is covering her face. When I first met her, she was 9. Now she’s 14. She’s shaking, but not in the way someone shakes when they’re trying to cry quietly. She’s so quiet. No, it’s more like the shaking someone does when they’re trying not to scream. I kneel down and brush her hair out of her face. “Look up. Look at me.”
She raises her head. I’m take aback by how angry she looks. She’s clutching something to her chest, hugging it close. I reach out my hands and pull the thing towards me. It’s a dress, ripped to shreds. “What..?” I look up at her.
She brushes her hair behind her ears and I see the bruises across her face and the scar along her jaw is bleeding again. “It’s my homecoming dress. They found out I was going to go anyway and they ripped it up and made me look like this so I couldn’t go.” She waves at the windows. “Those are locked, and so is the door.”
My tail whips back and forth. I stand up and lay out the ruined dress. From what I can tell, it was navy blue with a silver midsection. I turn back to her. “When’s homecoming?”
She’s still on the floor. So small, still so small. “Tomorrow. Saturday. Whatever.” She rubs at her jaw absentmindedly and winces. She looks at her hands. “Doesn’t matter. Can’t go.” God, shouldn’t she be bigger? She’s 14.
I pull her to her feet. She doesn’t look up. I brush her hair back again and look at her. “Have you eaten?”
She looks up at me, and I can finally see her eyes. They’re brimming with tears. “No. But it’s not their fault this time.” She blinks and a fat tear rolls down her cheek. “It’s mine. They don’t notice.” I glare at her and she starts shaking. “It-it was just an experiment and-and-and I was gonna stop but-but-” she’s shaking so hard she can’t form words and I realize my mistake.
I pull her towards me and hug her. So small. Small and soft and oh god why is she with these people. She’s sobbing in that quiet way of hers. “Sh.. shh…” I rock her while we’re standing there. Why would people be so mean to her. Why is nobody caring for her. Why- I freeze. I growl. She hiccups and shakes more. “No, no I’m not growling at you, shh…” I pet her hair and hold her just a while longer. “Just… sit here. Sit.” I put her on the bed and kneel on the floor in front of her. “I can take you away, if you want. You won’t be here anymore. They can’t hurt you.” She sits there, with her hands in her lap. She’s so small. I grab her hands. “Please?”
She looks at me, tear tracks down her face. “Why did you growl earlier?”
“I’m angry. At the angels for not helping you.”
She nods. “Me too. But I like you better than angels. I don’t know why.”
“Then let me take you away. Please.”
We sit there for a while, me listening to her breathing. I pay attention to every hitch in her breath, the pulse I can feel beneath my fingers. So small, still so small and weak. Finally, she nods. “Yes” she whispers. So quiet. “Take me away.”