I was home alone, in bed. Not even out of school yet. I had only been getting my period for about a year. I felt him climb into bed with him. Half asleep, I opened my eyes and what I saw was not my father, but a monster of sorts. Half man, half serpent. The man part looked oddly familiar. Like my dead grandpa. Surely I was having a nightmare. Then I felt it on top of my body. My hands were pinned behind my head and then I felt it enter me. It was ice cold. I was a virgin; I had never felt one inside me before, but I didn’t think it was suppose to feel cold as ice. And it was pronged, like a fork. I still thought I was dreaming. Having my first wet dream.
It hurt but at the same time felt good. When I think back to my first time, I am still perplexed by what penetrated me that night. It honestly felt like a cold knife going in and out of me. I felt wetness between my legs. A cold milky substance was running out of me. But what was it? Semen was suppose to be warm not ice cold. It was all over quickly, and who or what ever fucked me just disappeared into thin air. I convinced myself that it was all some dream. But when I woke up the next morning my sheets were covered in blood and semen. My pussy was raw and swollen.
My door was still locked from the inside. My bedroom window still locked too. Yet I was clearly no longer a virgin. Something or someone had entered my room in the middle of the night and fucked me, taken my virginity. I became obsessed with the occult, with demons and witches. I did all sorts of research and was certain that I had been violated by the devil. I tried to tell my parents, but of course they thought I was crazy. My mom accused me of fucking my dad, taking advantage of him. He was the only man in the house. If someone fucked me, it had to be him.
I missed my next period. When I told my father I was certain I was pregnant and carrying the devil’s spawn, he slapped me and called me a whore. That was the night I started cutting myself; the night I became obsessed with knives and blades and blood. The night I knew I had to get rid of my parents. Parents are supposed to protect their offspring, believe them, support them…. They were worthless. I didn’t need them. I prayed and prayed and prayed not to be pregnant and for my parents to disappear. Then, I heard a voice tell me I had to get rid of my parents if I didn’t want to have the son of Satan. That was an easy choice. Just like in the Amityville Horror, I went in my parents’ bedroom and stabbed them repeatedly. The blood spraying on my body felt intoxicating. That was my first kill, but far from my last. Guess you could say the Devil made me do it.
My period came the next day. I moved in with my grandmother and the death of my parents to this day remains an unsolved homicide, likely just a “random, senseless act of murder.” I didn’t need to have the Devil’s spawn; I was evil incarnate. I still am. The Devil still speaks to me. Maybe he will tell me to castrate or kill you next.
