For all of you people who have known from childhood that Lucifer is another name for Satan... in...
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I woke up to hear my mom yelling in the living room. At first, I was afraid she was having a nervous breakdown from the stress I was inflicting on her. After listening a bit closer, I discovered that there was another voice in the house other than my mom's. I had never met my father before, but I had a sneaking suspicion as to whom the voice belonged to.
I climbed out of my bed and crept through the apartment in bare feet, avoiding all the spots on the floor where I knew I would find a creaking board or shifting plank. I peeked into the living room, attempting to eavesdrop on my parents' conversation without either of them noticing.
"...and you left! Just like that!" my mom was screeching, standing in the middle of the room with her hands on her hips. "And now my daughter is turning into-- into-- into-- I don't even know!" I was thankful that my mom had been considerate enough not to use the word freak. "She has fangs! Her eyes are red!" Unconsciously, I ran my tongue over my exceptionally sharp canines and blinked furiously, picturing my mahogany-tinted irises.
"What did you expect me to do? I mean, in case you haven't noticed already, I'm a demon. I have duties back in Hell that merit a lot more attention than the broken heart of a college girl back on Earth," my dad replied in a surprisingly calm and somewhat mocking voice. When I saw him, I almost did a double-take.
His skin was red. Not just his cheeks or his nose, he looked like someone had dyed his entire body in red food coloring. His eyes were the same bright crimson color, and when he smirked, I could see the light gleaming off of his fangs.
Like father, like daughter.
The other two most shocking aspects of his appearance were his horns and his tail. His red horns stuck out of the sides of his head, curving forward and up, towards the ceiling. His tail was at least a yard long, also red and tipped with a flat, triangular end. The point of the triangle looked awfully sharp, and I found myself thinking of the countless times my mom had warned me to stop messing with twigs and fallen branches before I poked someone's eye out. Still, other than those extremely unnerving features, he looked pretty much like a regular guy. His hair was black and tousled. His attire consisted of jeans, a T-shirt, and a plain black jacket. He was lounging comfortably on our couch as if he lived in this house, a fact that pissed me off tremendously.
See, my dad had met and dated my mother when she was in college, pretending to be a fellow student named Lukas Daemon. The night after he slept with her, he disappeared off the face of the earth, leaving Mom to raise me alone, as a single mother. What made him think he had the right to just walk in and make himself comfortable in my mother's apartment?! Just looking at him put a scowl on my face.
Meanwhile, the argument continued.
"But what about Tatiana?!" I perked up at the sound of my name.
"What about her?"
"How could you abandon her like that?! I admit it, I made a mistake falling for you. That was entirely my fault. But couldn't you have done something for her? She's your daughter as much as she is mine!" Lukas looked around nonchalantly. He got up from the couch and wandered around the room, as if he were examining paintings in a museum.
"Well, you seem to be doing okay. This apartment isn't bad. Not to mention that I've never heard Tatiana complain about how much money you have around here."
"Of course she doesn't complain! She knows how hard it is for me to work two separate jobs just to buy her lunch every day! Unlike you, Lukas, she isn't a selfish, uncaring egomaniac!"
"Stop calling me that. Like I already told you, my name is Lucifer, not Lukas."
"What's the difference?! Why should I even do as you say?!"
"Well, because I don't want my daughter to grow up calling me by the wrong name." My dad turned his head, staring straight towards the doorframe I was hiding behind. "Tiana, you can come out now." I knew I couldn't hide any longer, so I stepped out from my hiding place and stood in the doorway. I gave him a hard, blank look, not letting any emotion cross my face. I tried to look as stoic as possible, or at least as stoic as a ten-year old in Spongebob pajamas and bare feet could look. Lucifer was looking me up and down, as if he was evaluating me for some sort of physical exam. After a moment of silence, he spoke up.
"I thought she'd a bit more... attractive."
I almost scrunched up my face in anger before putting my poker face back on. Deciding to express my disgust in other ways, I marched over to my dad, glared into his eyes, and kicked him in the nuts.
When I heard the sound, I thought I'd actually managed to do some damage, but I was completely wrong. I should've predicted that something like this would happen, but I was taken completely by surprise when he disappeared in a cloud of acrid smoke before my foot even made contact. I coughed, and waving my hands in front of my face, trying to clear away the smog without breathing any of it in. By the time I could see again, Lucifer was leaning against the wall behind me, grinning.
"I change my mind," he said. "I think I like her."
"Why you--" Mom hissed, storming in his direction. However, Lucifer cut her off.
"My time is running out. I told my boss I'd be back at work by eight o'clock, sharp. I can't be late, or else he's going to start spitting hellfire again. So here's the main thing I came to tell you: the teeth, the eyes? That's nothing. She's going to keep changing, at least until she's thirteen years old. I advise you to get the hell out of the city and move somewhere smaller, where less people are going to be around to stare."
There was another deafening crack. More smoke filled the room. It smelled nasty, like rotten eggs, a stench I would later associate with sulphur. By the time the smoke cleared, my dad was gone, probably poking poor souls in Hell with fiery pitchforks. In his place were two plane tickets to California and a note with the address to our new house. Mom cursed under her breath.
"I cannot believe this! He just shows up after eleven years, reveals that he's actually a servant of Satan, and expects us to pack up everything and move halfway across the continent at his whim?!"
However, I wasn't paying attention to my mom's ranting. Dad had said I was going to keep changing until I was thirteen. I already looked like a freak. How much worse could it get?