Chapter Ten

Vivian and her son hopped out of their car and dashed into the hospital, a sense of urgency in their steps.

"Hey there, could you do us a solid and point us to room 305?" she casually asked the receptionist, who promptly gestured them in the right direction.

Finding the room, Vivian and Daniel walked in to find Selma propped up on the hospital bed, while Vivian's husband occupied a seat next to her, concern etched on his face.

"Seriously, who could've pulled this on her?" Vivian wondered aloud, her brows furrowing.

"No clue. I tried asking, but she played the 'it's a long story' card. Then, bam, on our way out, she keeled over," her husband recounted with a shrug.

Right then, Selma's eyelids fluttered.

"Check it out, she's stirring," Daniel chimed in.

All eyes zeroed in on Selma as her weak, fluttering gaze connected with theirs.

"Daniel," she breathed out, mustering a faint but genuine smile.

***************

In a tempest of wrath, the king's clenched fist collided with the wall, the impact resonating through the room as it left the wall visibly cracked. The demons who bore witness to this explosive display of anger quaked in terror, acutely aware of the ferocious might their king wielded when his temper flared. Instinctively, they hastily retreated, their fear palpable in the air.

"Why did you permit her escape?" The king's voice thundered, a roaring tempest of fury.

Before him knelt the huge demon, trembling in dread as he beseeched his ruler. "Forgive me, your highness. I had no inkling that she could harness our abilities."

With palpable rage, the king stalked toward the massive demon, every step echoing with menace. He seized the demon's throat with a vice-like grip, and the wretched creature writhed in agonizing pain.

"If we fail to retrieve her heart, I shall personally end your existence," the king declared with seething intensity before relinquishing his hold on the demon's throat. He turned and strode back to his throne, leaving the demon to grimace in torment.

The king's anger raged unabated, fueled by his unyielding determination to obtain the girl's heart and transplant it into a fellow demon whose chest bore a gaping void. He recognized the girl as the chosen one, destined for unparalleled power. Yet, she remained their most formidable adversary, a perilous threat. Should she master her abilities, she would become an unstoppable force, and the king could not allow that to happen. Hence, his proposal to locate her before Lucian could. Once they tracked her down, their plan was to house her heart within a demon akin to themselves, effectively enlisting her powers to their cause, for the essence of power resided deep within the heart, waiting to be harnessed.

*

Selma had left the hospital and was now back at her home. Weary and still recovering, they gently settled her onto a plush couch in the cozy living room. It was a welcome change from the sterile confines of the hospital. Her aunt, Vivian, busied herself in the kitchen, putting a kettle on the stove to boil water. After a short while, Vivian returned to assist Selma in making her way to her bedroom.

Even though she was no longer in the hospital, Selma's body still throbbed with aches and pains. The events of the previous day had been so shocking that they continued to weigh heavily on her mind.

Upon reaching the sanctuary of her room, Selma decided to cleanse herself of the day's emotional residue. She entered the bathroom, drawn by the inviting promise of the bathtub. With deliberate care, she turned the tap, allowing the water to flow, and a delightful warmth enveloped her. She submerged herself in the embrace of the soothing water, her mind awash with questions. Why are demons after her? What mysterious significance lay in her heart that they craved? These thoughts swirled around her as she soaked in contemplation.

"Selma, it's time to eat," Vivian called from the other room.

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  {Selma's POV}

Dinner that evening consisted of piping hot tea and a serving of fried rice generously adorned with succulent meat chunks. The atmosphere was characterized by an eerie silence, with no one engaged in conversation. The only sounds that resonated in the room were the clicking and clattering of cutlery against plates. My gaze shifted momentarily towards my uncle and his wife; they were fully engrossed in savoring their meal. I couldn't help but acknowledge the imminent onslaught of questions that awaited me, and I couldn't escape that reality. I inwardly sighed, anticipating the upcoming interrogation.

Once our meal was over, I gathered my plate, preparing to rise from my seat. However, before I could make a move, Uncle Sam intervened with a commanding tone, "Selma, don't get up."

I obediently remained seated, feeling their collective gaze focused on me. It was at that moment that the barrage of questions began.

"Where did you disappear to? Whom did you encounter? How did you end up on the roadside?" My uncle's wife relentlessly fired one question after another in my direction.

I sat there, staring blankly, overwhelmed by where to even begin with my explanation. Just as I felt lost in the whirlwind of inquiries, Uncle Sam came to my rescue.

"Selma," he called gently, prompting me to turn my head towards him. I silently thanked him for diverting his wife's relentless questioning. It was evident that they were all genuinely concerned about my well-being.

"Could you please share the whole story with us?" he asked, his gaze unwavering as he locked eyes with me. I glanced around the room; everyone was fixated on me.

"Oh, Lord, how am I going to explain this?" I thought, my nerves intensifying.

Unable to suppress a shiver as I recalled the harrowing experience in DD, I cleared my throat and began to speak.

"It was Abigail," I finally uttered, keeping my head lowered as I did so. Raising my head slightly, I searched their expressions for any signs of change, but there was none.

"But it wasn't the real Abigail that Daniel knows. It was a demon that had disguised itself as Abigail," I explained, this time eliciting reactions from my audience.

"Demon?" Daniel exclaimed, his voice tinged with disbelief.

"Yes, indeed, a demon," I confirmed, my fingers nervously toying with the fork as I prepared to speak. However, an unexpected eruption of laughter disrupted the somber atmosphere in the dining room. My eyes darted towards the source of the merriment—Vivian and Daniel were both convulsed with laughter, while Uncle Sam wore an inscrutable expression. I couldn't recall saying anything humorous, and confusion furrowed my brow. Their laughter was utterly mystifying.

"What's so funny?" I inquired, my brow furrowing in response to their laughter.

"Oh, come on, don't jest like that," Vivian managed to say amidst her laughter, her hands pressed to her mouth in a futile attempt to stifle the giggles. Her body shook with mirth, and I could no longer contain my frustration. My clenched fist struck the dining table with a resounding thud. There was absolutely nothing remotely amusing about what I had just shared.

"I'm not joking," I asserted firmly, my gaze locked onto theirs. This time, their laughter ceased, and they regarded me with disbelief. Uncle Sam maintained a blank expression.

"The demon kidnapped me," I added, my voice carrying the weight of the terrifying truth.

I reached for my handkerchief to dab away the tears that threatened to escape my eyes and continued with my account.

"I found myself in a pitch-black room, with my limbs bound by chains. It was a nightmarish sight. A demon took me to meet their king. That king was truly terrifying," I shuddered in disgust at the memory.

"They brought forward the corpse of a demon with a hole in its chest. They asked me what was missing, and I replied, 'the heart.' The king then ordered a huge demon to..." I paused, my voice quivering, unable to hold back the tears as I relived the visceral horror of the king's decree—to have my heart gruesomely torn from my chest.