It’s Just A New Beginning, It’s Just A Different Ending

by Katzin

Summary:

He couldn’t move. He just can’t. Because if he moves it becomes real.

His voice was caught in his throat, his mouth dry and his eyes dilated. His ears rang, the gunshot still rang in his head. He could feel his legs give out on him, his knees hitting the hard pavement.

Notes:

Hoiiiii if you’re here from the Discord- HIIIII LOVE YALL

If not hello hi and I hope you like my story

Chapter 1: Beginning of Hell

He couldn’t move. He just can’t. Because if he moves it becomes real.

His voice was caught in his throat, his mouth dry and his eyes dilated. His ears rang, the gunshot still rang in his head. He could feel his legs give out on him, his knees hitting the hard pavement.

“CRAZY BITCH!!!” Screamed the cultist. He shot once more, aiming directly for her head. Andrew flinched, shutting his eyes, afraid of what he’d see when he opened them. All he could hear now was the ringing of his eardrums, and the heavy breathes of the cultist who-

…

Who…

 

He fell forward, catching himself with his hands. His eyes shot open as he began to dry heave. He could feel the bile make its way up his throat, but it soon stopped as he began to hyperventilate, tears falling heavily down his face. He gripped his hair, nearly pulling it from his scalp as he screamed, snot and tears mixing on face as he cried out in anguish.

He was pulled from his grief when he felt a hand on his shoulder, causing him to jerk away. The hand recoiled, and Andrew looked up. He made eye contact with the cultist, who looked down at him with a sort of pity.

Andrew soon found himself enraged, lunging at the killer of his only family, but was quickly pushed to the ground.

When his back hit the pavement he felt the cold barrel of the gun jammed against his forehead. He panted, eyes locked with his sister’s killer.

“I’LL KILL YOU!!” Andrew screamed, struggling against the cultists' hold. The cloaked man just stared down at him, his gaze hard.

“I don’t want to kill you, you didn’t do nuthin’.” He said. He slowly lifted himself off of Andrew, backing away as the green eyed boy caught his breath. He laid on the floor silently. Thousands of thoughts crossed his mind. He slowly sat up, staring at the other man, their gazes locked.

But slowly, his eyes drifted to the corpse that laid just before him. He watched as the blood poured from his sister's head, the knife she held still in her hand. She laid face down, her eyes void of life, her hair matted and stained with blood. He turned to look back at the hooded figure, his body trembling.

The cultist looked back at him, then scoffed, beginning to walk away from the scene.

“Might wanna leave soon kid, police outa’ show up any minute.” He said walking past Andrew, whose gaze followed him. He didn’t say anything for a moment, just listened to the steps of the armed man. He then turned quickly, baring his teeth, tears once more began to fall down his cheeks.

“Give it back.” He said. The cultist turned and cocked an eyebrow, looking at Andrew confused.
Andrew stared back, his gaze hard.

“That doesn’t belong to you. It’s hers.” He says. The cultist's eyes widened in realization as he looked down to his hand, holding up the gun to ask ‘this?’. He looks at Andrew for confirmation. Andrew nods and holds out his hand.

The cultist rolls his eyes and throws the gun to him. Andrew fumbles as he catches it. When get his bearings he looks up to see that the cultist had already left. He turned back towards his sister, some part of him hoping that it wasn’t true. That it didn’t happen.

But his fears were confirmed when his gaze locked onto the corpse of his only love. The only person who understood him. Before he could do anything, even grieve, he heard sirens approaching. His eyes opened wide in panic, and stood up suddenly. He made his way to the end of the alleyway, before chancing one last glance at Ashley. He bit his lip, before letting out a choked sob, “Leyley…I-…I’m so sorry…”

With that, he fled the scene.

Chapter 2: Reality can be often disappointing

Summary:

She scowled towards the empty void before her, to say she was pissed would be an understatement.

…

…..

…..

“Hello…?”

….

 

….

 

“Hello!?”

….

….

 

She scowled towards the empty void before her, to say she was pissed would be an understatement.

“Of all the fucking times to get a vision it had to be now!? The fuck!?” She yelled. All she could remember was leaving their parents house to find some poor bloke they could use as a sacrifice. Everything else after that is blurry.

“I was in the middle of something douchebag!” She yelled. Stomping forward she hugged herself, trembling slightly. It was always cold whenever she did this, no clue why, you’d think the damn demon would want it to be relatively comfortable, though, granted, this could be its comfortable.

“Hello!? Eyes!” She yelled once more. She looked around herself, brows knitted tightly together as she saw nothing but an empty void. This was different, no puzzles, no weird versions of her or Andrew just…nothing…

 

….

 

“Tar Soul-” “HOLY SHIT!!!” Ashley screamed, jumping what she swears was several feet in the air. The demon just stared at her, waiting for her to calm down.

“Why-the fuck-did you-do that!?” She yelled through breaths. The demon stared at her unwaveringly. She stared back, still awaiting the demons reasoning for why she was here.

“Well?” She cocked a brow at the deity.

“Well what Tar Soul? I doubt that you did not expect this.” This caused her to look at it with confusion.

“What the hell do you mean? Except what?” She asked, crossing her arms.

“I guess it seems that you have yet to realize.”

“Realize what!?” She demanded, scowling at the demon. Then, as if in an instant, the demon was right in front of her. Its gaze is unnerving and colder than the void where they stood.

 

“You died.”

 

She stood silently, processing the words spoken.

“I….I died…” She said unbelieving what the demon had said. She couldn’t believe it at first, but then began to recall the day.

 

Everything suddenly made sense. It all came back to her in a heartbeat. They cornered a cultist in an alleyway, her gun was in her back pocket, just in case. They didn’t want to attract a crowd with gunshots. She held a knife to the cultist, while Andrew stood at the entrance of the alleyway to stand guard. She nearly got the bastard to, until he somehow got ahold of her gun.

One shot in her chest.

Andrew’s screams.

She fell to the ground.

Then-

Then she was here….

Ashley looked up at the demon, eyes dark.

“Now what?” She asked, a growl in her voice.

The demon stared at her.

“Well!?” She shouted.

The demon's gaze hardened, its eyes scaled across her figure.

“It seems you haven’t noticed anything else. Why not take a good look at yourself Tar Soul. See what you have become.” To her confusion, she looked down, then gasped, instead of her normal legs, she saw hooves and furry legs. Her hands were stained black and arms were covered with tiny horns. Each a pale green like her brother’s eyes.

She felt up her arms to her shoulders, seeing larger horns that sprouted from her flesh, except the bigger ones were her own eye color.

“Am I…you..?” She looked up at the being, eyes wide in disbelief.

“By that, are you meaning a demon?” Ashley nodded her head. The demon stared for a moment, not saying anything.

“You are no longer human, but a being of sin and hatred.” She blinked up at him, an unimpressed look on her face.

“Ok, but am I a demon? Do I get like- powers or something?” She asked. The demon pondered for a moment before answering.

“Yes. You can make deals with mortal souls. In return, you have the possibility to own their soul.” She looked at him with astonishment, eyes wide with thoughts of all the possibilities laid out before her.

A wicked grin crawled across her face at the revelation.

“Seems to me you already have a soul you wish to own.” Said the demon. She looked up at it, her smile unwavering, eyes blackened with only the pink of her irises glowing in the darkness of the void.

“Uh-huh…I have…just the one…”

 

————-

 

His back hit the bed as he let out a groan, he pressed his hands hard against his face as he tried to block out the world around him.

 

He kept repeating the same phrase in his head, as if repetition would make said words true.

 

It’s just a dream. It’s just a dream. It’s just a dream. It’s just-BANG

 

He shot up, a hand clutched to his chest as the gunshot from earlier in the day rang through his ears once more. His grip loosened as his hand fell to his lap. He stared up into the wall. There wasn’t anything important or interesting about it-It was just a stupid wall. But he studied it, each stroke of paint to every bump underneath. There was a clear line in each stroke, showing that the paint brush used was wide and bristled.

 

He blinked, and all he had seen was gone. Only to be replaced with the image of red stains that splatter against the wall. He ignored it, turning away. He stood from the bed and walked out of the room. The couch stood before him and laid a pale skinned girl with obsidian hair. Her head hung from the armrest, eyes void and blank. Blood dripped from her skull onto the wooden floor.

 

He walked past.

 

He made his way to the kitchen, and on the marble floor laid belly up a pink eyed girl with a bullet hole in the middle of her forehead. In her face etched an expression of fear and anguish.

 

He stepped over her.

 

He opened the fridge to see on the top shelf the decapitated head of his sister, her mouth agape and eyes null, blood dripping down onto the floor from where it rests.

 

He grabbed a bottle of water.

 

He turned back, once more stepping over the body, walking past the couch, and not giving a second glance to carnage that now laid in the bedroom he was just resting in.

 

Instead he made his way down the stairs, into the basement. The only place it seemed where he could find peace.

 

It felt ironic.

 

No.

 

It’s fucking hilarious.

 

The fact that the only fucking place in the whole fucking world he actually breathe is the place where her murdered his own parents and brutally mutilated their corpses.

 

It’s fucking pathetic.

 

He turned and dropped the bottle, his fist striking hard against the wall.

 

His chest heaved as he gasped for breath, tears streaming down his face. Soon enough his fist struck the wall once more, each strike deepening the dent the first hit had left. He kept striking until his knuckles felt numb and wet, stained with blood that dripped from his fingertips to the hard concrete below his feet.

 

He took in deep breaths, resting his forehead against the wall above his bloodied work.

 

As he breathed softly, slowly bringing down the thumping of his heart, he heard the faintest sounds coming from above. He slowly looked above himself, squinting his eyes as he listened closely. The sound was soft, barely there, but he recognized it as footsteps.

 

His eyes widened at that realization, causing his breathing to still. He listened closely as his heart quickened its pace and his blood drew cold.

 

He recognized those footsteps.

 

They were Ashley’s.

Notes:

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