It was on January 13th, 2018, that he came to be. I know not from whence he came, but I know that he roams still, in the forests of Northern Pennsylvania, seeking more hosts to consume.

While at work at The Fireplace one evening, one of my coworkers, James Decipales, was sent to take the garbage out. In the meantime, I set about to cleaning out the walk-in freezer, while we were doing breakdown.

Eventually, due to the cold, I came out to warm myself, and to my surprise, I saw James sitting on a chair, looking externally fine, but his mannerisms seemed a little bit off. "James, are you alright?" I asked him, genuinely concerned for my coworker.

He turned to me, and replied, with a cold and malicious tone. "Yes. But Simon won't be."

I was startled, to say the least, and confused. "What do you mean, James?" Terror creeped into my voice, yet the environment was peaceful; still, even, as I awaited his response.

"I'm going to possess him next." He said, his tone still cold, but not uncaring. He seemed almost curious, to how I would react.

I took a step back cautiously. Having watched Supernatural, I had some basic ideas possession, but I didn't want to give up on James. That was my first mistake. "Look, demon, I don't know what you want, but you don't have to do this. You don't have to hurt anyone."

"What would you know, about what I have to do!" It was the first time I had ever heard James raise his voice, in the six years I had known him. "You know nothing, boy." I began to slowly creep toward the Dining Room door, intent on warning the others, especially Simon, about what was going on.

James's eyes locked on to me, and it was clear to me then that he knew exactly what I was thinking. He became enraged, but didn't move from his chair. "No. No. No NO! NO! NO!" His voice grew in volume and velocity, as he shrieked out his command. At the same time, he began to turn red, not in the way that high blood pressure might redden your face, but more like his face had been boiled in hot water. His head began to smoke, before the very skin on his face combusted, reducing his head to just the skull which turned back toward me, and opened its mouth. I was knocked down, and the door opened and closed with a slam. I looked at James' corpse, which had fallen to the floor with a sickening thud. I took a deep breath, and forced myself to stand.

As I stood up, I heard a scream from the kitchen, and ran out to see what was the matter. The scene was grisly. Simon had taken a small knife, with a two inch blade, and was stabbing Hannah as she attempted to get away from him. One stab wound from such a knife would not have been fatal, with Immediate medical attention, but Simon had already stabbed Hannah so many times, that within the fifteen seconds I that had passed since her first scream, she had already passed out from blood loss.

I pulled my phone out of my pocket to call emergency services, but I was nervous, and my hands were sweating. I dropped the phone accidentally, and looked up to see Simon advancing toward me, having dropped the bloody knife.

I panicked, and left it, running back out into the dishroom, but Simon had turned left, and gone out toward the old wait station. I took advantage of his absence, and looked for a place to hide, before eventually deciding on the Walk-in refrigerator. That was my second major mistake.

I hid inside of it behind some boxes, and waited. Within one minute, Simon walked in, and looked directly at me. "You idiot. I can read your mind. How are you going to hide from me?"

I panicked, and using adrenaline and muscle, I threw a case of raw chicken at him, knocking him to the floor. He may have been possessed, but the human form was clearly not working for him.

Running by him, and out the door, I slammed the door shut, and pushed a table in front of it, before running for the staff exit. I ran full force into the door, only to fall back from it, because he had somehow melted the hinges. Fear gripped my heart, and I ran for the front door, as the walk in door opened with a slam. Simon laughed with glee, and cracked his neck."Make it a hunt? Why not, old sport?"

I got to the front door, and saw that he had melted the hinges on this one too. In a panic, which to be fair, I had been in since I had watched James burst into flames, I turned and ran, barely evading him by darting around a table. I then ducked and continued running, as he took the table, and threw it out the front window, into the parking lot. I ran back into the dishroom, having gone in a complete circle, and grabbed a knife off of the table. If I can't escape, I'll have to kill Simon. I thought to myself. Can I really kill another person, even in self-defense? Guess it is time to find out. I stood there, and waited for him. That was my third mistake.

I watched the door to the dining room and kitchen, fixing all of my attention on it, as I waited for him to come through it. That's why I didn't hear him, when he stealthily came in through the old wait station door. Luckily, I saw his shadow as he approached, but when I went to stab him, he knocked the knife out of my hand. Wrapping me in a choke hold, he grabbed my hand, and used it to turn on the meat slicer. Then he pressed my hand against the blade, while I struggled to get free.

Blood sprayed the walls, as the spinning blade began to make thin, hand shape slices out of the flesh of my palm. I screamed a blood curdling scream, and would have collapsed to my knees, if he hadn't grabbed me under the arms, and continued holding my hand against the meat slicer.

Suddenly, the door was kicked down by a policeman holding out a taser. He took one look at the scene before dropping the taser, and pulling out his gun. Simon dropped me, and began to cross the fifteen feet toward the officer. "Freeze!" The officer shouted, but when Simon showed no signs of stopping, he opened fire. Three nine millimeter shots blasted through Simon's chest, but he kept advancing. Eventually, Simon was standing right in front of the officer, who dropped his gun in fear and asked in a shaky voice, "What are you?"

"I am far worse than your worst nightmare." Simon said, before ripping out the policeman's throat with his teeth. As the officer gurgled on his own blood, Simon turned back to me, and knelt down in front of me.

"The unfortunate thing now is that I can't stay. I have to go find a new host, and," he said, pointing at my hand, "you're damaged goods."

"Please don't kill me?" I beseeched him, gripping my apron in a failed attempt to stop the blood flow.

Simon laughed, a laugh I had heard Simon use many times before this hell-spawn had taken over his body."Why would I kill you now? If you don't bleed out, I will forever haunt your mind, until finally I break you, and you are institutionalized. And then, one day, when I have ruined your life in its entirety, I come back, and then I will kill you."

The demon stood and walked toward the door, but he turned back and smiled at me maliciously. "Until next time..." Then he ran out the door, and into the darkness of the woods, under the dark sky of a new moon. I slumped against the table, and the last thing I saw before the world faded, was the still bleeding corpse of the police officer, reaching for his gun, and placing it against his head. Then, there was silence.

. . .

I woke up in a hospital bed, and Immediately tried to press the call nurse button with my bad hand, before realising that I was using a stump at the end of my wrist. I used my right hand instead, and within three minutes, a nurse was at my side. "How are you feeling, Mr. Oakley?" He asked, checking all of the numbers on the panel.

"Drugged. And horrified. And confused. How did I get here?"

"The ambulance brought you in. Apparently a passerby called 911 in concern after she was driving by and saw a table thrown through the front window. You are lucky the hospital is so close; we had to give you four pints of blood after you arrived." The nurse smiled at me, which was a little in considerate considering all that I had been through.

"What of the others? What of Hannah, James, and the police officer? Did they survive?"

The nurse shook his head no. "Unfortunately, all of them perished. Hannah was still alive when she arrived here, but she died in surgery." The nurse looked like he was going to say more, but there was a knock at the door that interrupted him. The nurse, whose name tag said Garret, went to see who it was. He came back and said: "The Pennsylvania police are here, and would like to question you. Do you feel well enough to answer a few questions?"

I nodded, and he brought them in. A man and a woman in uniform stepped into the room, and stood at the edge of my bed. The woman began "My name is Lieutenant Deborah, and this is Officer Seirra. We would like to ask you a few questions about the incident. Are you feeling well enough to answer them?" I nodded, and she continued, "Good. Mr. Oakley, could you give us a brief rundown of what occurred at The Fireplace on January 13th, 2018?"

I thought to myself for a moment. If I tell them the truth, I will be institutionalised. But is lying any better? He will hunt me down, and kill me. At least I would be safe in the asylum...

. . .

So I told them the truth. And as I deduced, they put me in the Bethlehem Mental Asylum. I have been here for thirteen years, waiting until I think it is safe to come out. Now I just wait, and wait, and wait...

. . .

Patrick Oakley heard a knock on the door, which was an impressive feat, considering the shrieking, and crying out for help, that was coming from all of the other patients. Standing up, he closed his journal, and looking through the peephole, saw that a nurse had come to give him his medicine.

He opened the door, and the nurse wheeled in the Medicine cart, closing the door behind her. Then, the nurse removed her mask, and looked at Patrick with a curiousity that he recognized immediately.

The demon smiled, pulling out a food processor from the underside of the cart. "Shall we begin?"

Patrick's screams for help then joined, and became indistinguishable from, the voices of all the other asylum patients. But his were different, at least in one regard; His eventually stopped.