I Am The Prince of Hell

In modern literature and pop culture, demons are the main residents of hell, aside from the souls condemned to eternal torment after a miserable existence on Earth. These evil entities are the personifications of everything wrong and wicked; monsters devoid of feelings or compassion, driven only by a will for destruction and death.

Daemom deeply agreed with these words, except for the part about feelings and compassion. You didn't need to be a demon to lack feelings. Often, the human heart was darker than any demon in hell.

For as long as he could remember, Daemom could see things that other children in the orphanage couldn't see or even imagine.

Things that would certainly traumatize children who, in the future, would definitely need many hours with a cheap psychologist. Fortunately, he had help and became a mentally healthy young man, or at least that's what he liked to believe.

Through his eyes, he could see beings that would be described as at least terrifying. Grotesque and misshapen beings, often with horns, scaly skin like a snake, and tails. At first, as a child, he thought he was going crazy and becoming schizophrenic, but over the years and with his growing knowledge, Daemom understood what he was seeing through his eyes.

– Demons.

Infernal beings coming to Earth with a single apparent purpose: to influence humans to fall into perdition and sin, and consequently – into Hell.

Beings with quite unpleasant laughs and often seductive voices, their evil whispers influencing those who were already tired of a life full of chains and close to falling into temptation.

As for what the demon gains from making a human sin and fall into the arms of Hell, Daemom was still trying to figure it out, but eventually, he would come to know, as he always did with other questions that had no answers.

Biting into a juicy apple, Daemom's ethereal blue eyes fell upon a couple resting beneath a tree. To any normal person, there was nothing strange happening; it was just another couple in love. But his eyes told a completely different story.

Lying next to the woman, a female demon whispered her temptations with a twisted smile. The demon's body was covered in red scales similar to those of a snake, her reptilian eyes narrowing with almost sick pleasure as she watched her target fall under her influence. Her long tail danced in the air with a surprisingly graceful beauty.

The human woman, unaware of what was happening, stopped hesitating and gave in to the man's kiss. He held her waist, and they kissed passionately, not caring about the onlookers.

Daemom could see through the woman's flesh, his gaze reaching the depths of her being, her essence, her core – the human soul. The gray, ethereal color of the soul was gradually being replaced by a black hue, quickly consuming the gray, ethereal color, leading the woman's soul down an irreversible path.

– To Hell.

As for helping the woman avoid Hell, Daemom's lips curled into a sarcastic, scornful smile.

Why would he help an adulterous woman?

The demon may have influenced the woman to fall into carnal desires, but the first step is always taken by the person themselves. In other words, the woman already wanted to betray her partner in the first place. She was already on the edge of the abyss; the demon just gave the final push, leading her to fall into an irreversible chasm.

Daemom finished eating the apple and tossed the core into the park's trash can. He stood up from the bench and smiled at the sky.

It was a rare sunny day in Modesto.

---

United States, California – Modesto.

St. George Orphanage.

Looking at himself in the mirror, shirtless, Daemom touched his own back, his expression showing obvious discomfort and irritation.

He had been feeling quite irritating itches in two specific areas on his back for eleven months straight. Inexplicably, the itch intensified more and more as his sixteenth birthday approached, almost as if something wanted to break free from his flesh.

Sometimes, Daemom thought that wings were growing on his back and were about to unfold behind him.

Daemom laughed at the absurd idea and put his shirt back on. He lay down on the bed. Beside his bed, there were six other similar beds.

Obviously, the orphanage didn't have individual rooms for the orphans; ten or dozens of other teenagers slept in the same room. This didn't exactly make for a very tidy and clean environment.

At least, Daemom did his part to keep his own bed and clothes clean, something his roommates didn't care much about in the first place, almost as if they couldn't smell the unpleasant odor in the room.

Teenagers weren't known for being very organized and clean.

While Daemom amused himself by throwing a ball against the wall and catching it again when it bounced back, he heard the door open and one of his roommates entered.

"Daemom, the Headmistress is calling you to her office."

Holding the ball firmly, Daemom's lips curled into a smile, his eyes narrowing with a thoughtful look.

Getting up from the bed, he walked to the door and spoke to the boy. "Thanks, Van."

Van, an African-American boy with black hair and brown eyes, nodded as he lay down on his own bed, ignoring Daemom.

Not surprised by the obvious distance the boy kept from him, Daemom wasn't exactly the most beloved teenager in the group of orphans at St. George Orphanage, not when everyone thought he was arrogant and a delinquent.

Which wasn't exactly a lie; he was indeed arrogant, but not a delinquent. He had class.

 …

After knocking twice on the door, Daemom heard the voice of the orphanage Headmistress.

"Come in, Daemom."

Obeying, he held the doorknob and turned it, opening the door. What appeared before him was an old office, but impeccably clean and tidy, the smell of books lingering in the air, reminding him of the scent of a library he once entered to hide from the rain as a child.

Ironically, the first place he saw a demon for the first time.

Behind a desk, sitting in a chair, was an elderly woman dressed in black clerical clothes. She was a very small woman, standing at 5'2, but don't be fooled by her small and fragile appearance. This tiny woman ran the orphanage with an iron fist that would put Stalin himself to shame.

"Sit down, son," she said, her eyes peering seriously at him from behind her glasses.

Once again, Daemom obeyed the woman. He might be undisciplined and arrogant with everyone else, but not with this woman, not with the woman who had truly raised him as her own son.

Once, he had read a very fitting saying in a book:

A mother is the one who raises her child. And Felipa Herath had raised him as her own flesh and blood, a true son.

Perhaps because of this, unlike the other orphans, Daemom didn't care who his real parents were or why they had abandoned him. He had received all the love he needed growing up not to cry and resent, unlike his fellow orphans, who were deprived of love and filled with resentment for the unfair life they were suffering.

Maybe this was another reason he wasn't very popular in the orphanage, despite his obviously superior appearance.

"About the invitation you received from Brighton Hall Boarding School," Felipa, the headmistress of the orphanage, said, adjusting her glasses that were sliding down her nose. "According to Evelyn Grace, the Vice-Principal of Brighton Hall, the invitation is genuine."

Felipa's words made Daemom's eyes narrow, his lips curving into a curious smile.

He hadn't expected the invitation to be real.

About three days ago, he had received a letter from Brighton Hall Boarding School. Daemom was genuinely surprised, as he hadn't applied to the most prestigious boarding school in the United States. This had greatly confused him, but since it was an excellent life opportunity, he had told Felipa, who took it upon herself to verify whether the letter was real or not.

Honestly, the whole thing seemed very suspicious to him, especially considering the strange rumors circulating about the boarding school. A place full of supernatural stories and related oddities.

"What do you want to do, Daemom?" Felipa asked, looking at the child she had raised as her own, her gaze softer than usual.

"Of course, I'll accept the invitation and become a student at the prestigious Brighton Hall Boarding School," Daemom replied, his lips curving into a smile. He wanted to see what was behind this invitation.

He would finally be leaving the orphanage for something much bigger.