The Bloody Truth

My first try at a scary story.

"You must be out of your damned mind. We share the same body. I feel, see and hear everything you do. Now, listen, I catch you talking to that priest again, and the only souls vacating bodies will be your moms and that cry baby a*s little sister of yours, understand? Just do what I say, and this partnership will work out fine." Michael was shaking fervously, now, the fear that started at the tip of his toes making its way up to the back of his neck. His pounding heart could be felt in his throat as he struggled to find the words to stand up to the murderous spirit inside of him, his voice bitter and harsh. "I've had enough of you. This ends tonight and not a second later. We're sending you straight to hell where you should've been rotting 10 years ago you evil, cold hearted sonuva..." Someone was by his door. "Michael, baby, are you okay in there? What's going on?" It was his mother. He stopped himself in mid-sentence. "Nothing, mom. Just playing the game. Getting kind of intense is all!" She was silent for a moment. "Well...alright. Let me know if you need anything..." She slowly walked away, making it obvious that she knew he was lying. He paused until he heard the chattering of plates in the kitchen before moving to his closet and putting on his sweater which hung on a hook in his door, completely ignoring the voice in his mind. His cell phone vibrated, the tone letting him know it was a text from the priest. "I'll be here for the remainder of the night if you're still swinging by", it read as he hit the sleep button and prepared to leave. As he reached for the door knob his vision blurred and he collapsed to the floor with a thud, a heavily pulsating migraine loosing blows onto his head. Sweat ran down his face profusely as his entire body was set ablaze with a burning sensation. He rolled around, seeking some respite from the pain but to no avail. "I warned you, Michael. Didn't I? Tsk, tsk. And this could've gone so smoothly, too. So, who do you love more? Your mother or your baby sister?" The menacing voice reverbrated through Michael's consciouness, speaking each word slowly and deliberately. It was almost as if he could see the spirit smiling in the darkness of his mental. "EENNTT! Wrong answer! Allow me to choose for you!" Michael opened his eyes to find that he was not only standing, but moving. So, why couldn't he feel anything? He was panicking now. "Hey...HEY! WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO?!?" The spirit released a freezing, cold sound which could only be described as a laugh. "This is what happens when you don't play by my rules." Michael was a spectator in his own body, unable to control anything it did. He would've cried if he could've but was made to watch in horror as the spectre prepared to do the unthinkable. He saw himself moving into the kitchen, the only source of light infiltrating through the blinds from the street lamps. "Oooh! Knives! You know I was quite fond of a good shank in my hey day. 10 bodies to my name, all with knives." It proceeded to pick up the biggest of the knives from the kitchen drawer, swinging it through the air to test its weight. The pride in its voice sent Michael over the deep end. He lost control. "STOP, YOU B*****D! LEAVE MY FAMILY OUT OF THIS! THIS IS BETWEEN US! WHERE ARE GOING?! STOP OR I'LL F*****G KILL YOU!" His body walked down the apartments long, shadowy corridor into his one year old sister's room, the soft glow of the night light plugged into the wall casting an eerie shadow of his silhouette over the cradle that she slept in. Michael's fury now gave way to an intense helplessness, threats replaced with pleads. He felt himself crying, wherever he was. "PLEASE! PLEASE, OKAY, WHATEVER YOU WANT! DON'T DO THIS! PLEASE DON'T DO THIS! YOU CAN HAVE ME! I'LL DO WHATEVER YOU SAY!" He was hysterical. He loved his little sister with all of his heart and really would give his life for hers. She was sleeping soundly on her back, the light twinkling of the star shingles over her sounding off to the rhythmic breathing of her small chest. Michael held his breath as his arm reached out to caress the head of his baby sister, his finger easily flowing through her dark, curly hair, her puffy cheeks so small and innocent in the paleness of the moonlight. He felt an ease within the spirit at this point. "Wow, now, I see what all the commotion was about. She really is precious." He calmed down. "See? We can work through this together, man. It's whatever you want, just please." The spirit chuckled. "Which is exactly why she has to die." His worst fear had been realized. In an instant the knife rose and fell directly into the babies stomach. She let out a small coo as its eyes flew open, alert and aware, searching the eyes of its killer for answers before it took a deep breath and died. Michael felt nothing. No sadness, no anger, no remorse, just an undescribable shock. He could only watch, just as he had been doing. The killer removed the blade from the corpse and headed towards the door where Michael's mother was coming in. "Hey Mike, what's..." He grabbed his mother by the throat, pressed her back to the hallway wall and with heavy force, plunged the knife into her stomach. She struggled, scratched and punched at his face, but didn't even bother to scream. Unable to break the powerful grip along with the blade protruding from her stomach, she knew it was over. As the final bit of life left her frame, her throat was released and she looked into his eyes while she still had some energy. Her voice was low and serene. "Michael, I know that's not you in there. And I know God will protect you while you get rid of that thing inside of you. I love..." Withdrawing the knife from her stomach, he plunged it through her throat, choking one last time before her eyes closed and she died. They was a slight distortion in time, then darkness. When Michael was conscious, he found himself lying in the floor next to his mother, crunched into the fetal position. He checked her pulse, ignoring the gaping hole in her throat. She was dead. He just wanted to make sure. He crawled to the entrance of his sisters room, but thought better of it and withdrew back to his starting position. "See, Michael? Why did it have to come to this? Why couldn't you have just listened? Well, now's as good a time as any to start. Now, your mom made a lot of noise, but you were too in shock to notice. Actually you still are. It's gonna sting ALOT when you realize you just murdered your whole family. Anyway, you hear that?" He could hear sirens. A lot of them. It had only been 15 minutes since he regained control of his body. "We need to get out of here. Listen well. Head out the front door because they're gonna surround you from the back first. Under cover of the night, we'll make it out just fine." He did as he was told, in control of his body and feeling none of his emotions. All he knew was that he needed to get this thing out of him and clear his name. If possible...