"Inner Demon" - A Short Story by Natasha Katherine Low

The time ticked on. Life hadn't been friendly to me today. I'd been through so much shit that it was beginning to feel like the whole world was currently having a lover's feud with me. 

I picked up a bottle of the finest alcohol I had in stock (the cheap stuff my idiot roommate had got from the drugstore downtown) and parked myself right down onto my vintage leather armchair.

To hell with the goddamn females - I could do without a couple more girlfriends. You know, it was downright pitiful how they actually expected me to care.

Everything was oddly quiet for a couple of heartbeats. My irritation was marred slightly by the novelty of this new situation. Here I was, Jacob Blaine The Quarterback - alone in my dorm room on a bustling Friday night. It was a laughable thought.

I hadn't had a Friday to myself since I'd been living with my father and his second wife. And that was something like, what? Four years ago?

A sudden chill ran down my spine. 

I shifted uncertainly in my seat, barely daring to make a sound, oddly perturbed by the unfamiliar sensation. Again, I was assaulted by the creepily novel feeling. I hadn't felt actual alarm like this in a very long time.

My heart dropped once more as I saw it again. There, out of the corner of my eyes, a figure.

Or, rather, my figure, a familiar figure - my shadow - slinking silently from where it should have been, stacked up high against the adjacent cheery pastel wall. It made no sense for it to detach itself that way, for it to shimmy across the room to where it stood now, but there it was. It preened smugly in my face as it straightened, defying the laws of physics that should have dictated its rightful position.

Of course I'd be the one to have a defiant shadow. It made perfect sense.

"Hey," I called out coolly. This whole thing could really be looked at as a lot more interesting than it was frightening. Since I would never admit to the other, I decided to go along with the first one instead.

"Hey," came the equally languid reply. The shadow seemed to glimmer before my very eyes, smoothly taking on the form of that one handsome devil that I'd been admiring all my life.

I looked into those gorgeous blue eyes with some wonder, smugly acknowledging the mirrored perfection before I allowed my own gaze to flicker quickly to the door. I felt a lick of genuine amusement at the thought of my dick-for-brains roommate plowing through it to find himself looking at two stunningly gorgeous love rivals. Oh, what a pretty scene that would be.

"It's obvious you want me to ask. Who are you?" I started carefully.

My shadow self rolled his eyes like I'd just said the most obvious thing in the world.

“Next question," he replied cockily, one eyebrow raised. I grit my teeth, allowing him his false sense of pride. The night was still young, after all, and all we had was time on our hands.

"Are you supposed to be my conscience?" I asked him calmly. I admit that the notion of it did manage to drive a shiver of amusement down my spine. Now that would be a real cliché scene, wouldn't it?

"You mean to tell me you think you had one?" My shadow snorted maliciously. I grinned at him now, overwhelmed by the sudden surge of approval I felt for him. I suppose he wasn't half-bad.

"What are you then? You're obviously a part of me," I pointed out lightly.

"Obviously," he agreed.

Jesus. I hadn't thought it would be possible for me to meet a bigger prick than I was in this lifetime - I guess surprises come in all different shapes and sizes. Or, in this case, a beautifully similar one.

He sighed suddenly, relenting. The glint in his eyes was largely triumphant. "You could say I'm the larger part of who you are. Your demon of sorts."

I took a couple of moments to take that in. The buzz from the alcohol had already gone to my head. It was a familiar, more than welcome feeling.

"I see," I said pleasantly. He raised an eyebrow knowingly.

"Who do you think stops you from donating to charity? Or randomly taking in a homeless person on the street?" He sounded gleeful – proud, almost. "You know, I've saved you a pretty penny over the past decade or so.”

He gave me a hard look then, clearly having expected some show of gratitude on my part. He frowned when I gave him nothing.

I was really too numb on alcohol to even bother. "I'd gone on to believe that was common sense."

"Do you think other people would have done it if it were?" he paused, frowning slightly. "Or maybe you are right," he murmured in amusement.

"Well, let's assume you're right and this isn't just some kinky hallucination," I said thoughtfully. "What's got your knickers in a knot? I've been in worse situations than I'm in now."

"I assume you refer to your parent's divorce," my shadow self said lightly. I felt a ripple of discomfort as my private wound was abruptly ripped to the surface. I cleared my dry throat unconsciously, reaching down to take another healthy sip of my drink. He obviously took the action as an answer. "All right, I’ll bite, what's biting you?” he asked, raising his hands in amusement.

"You weren't doing your job then, man," I drawled icily. It made me sick to think I could appear weak to anybody. Even myself.

"Seriously?" he sounded vaguely offended. It would have been funny, if I hadn't been so irritated.

"Come on. You say that you’re my demon. You could have manipulated some of my less desirable emotions back then," I stated coldly.

There was no hesitation in my voice, and his moody silence indicated affirmation. I looked squarely at him, taking in that arrogance with a heated heart.

Finally, he chuckled. A low, dirty sound that grated unpleasantly against my ears.

"Well, I could have," he agreed at last. He sounded wistful. It was the underlying patience in his tone that curled my hands into fists. "But then again - I'm your demon, aren't I? I'm not anybody's source of strength. Especially not yours.”

I curled my free hand into a fist. "Are you calling me weak?"

"Yes I am," he laughed easily.

I glared at him. I ground my teeth together.

He laughed lightly. "Relax. I'm not saying I'm perfect either - heavens no, weakest link, and all that jazz. In fact, we should bond, you and I. We obviously have the same taste in women, after all."

My mind went blank for just a moment too long. I hadn't been expecting that. I stared at him carefully. "What?" I muttered slowly.

His grin was slightly sheepish. "We both know why I'm really here," he told me calmly. "And you're right, you know, I baby you way too much. I always mean to do what's best for both of us, after all, “ a flippant wave of his hand as his smirk resurfaced, “But, in any case, I came here tonight to tell you we've got ourselves a roadblock this time. A serious one – or so it would appear, anyway."

I watched him meaningfully. Words were simply pleasantries in this situation. He gave me a look that suggested that I were an idiot that had failed to comprehend a simple joke.

"Love," he drawled, spitting the word out like it left a bad taste in his mouth. His eyes were exasperated. "Really, Jacob?"

I laughed bitterly at that, feeling an abrupt rush of indignant understanding. I shook my head.

"You're mistaken," I told him loudly. "I'm not in love with any of those girls."

"True," he agreed easily. "Not any that you're thinking of. Those girls, we could get."

A name bubbled to the surface of my consciousness. Or it had always been there. All I recognized was the sting of pain that came with its appearance.

I bent down to take another sip, another swig from the bottle in my hands.

"Yes," he whispered.

Another flash of pain. Another bout of bitterness.

I snorted, averting his gaze with a passion. Suddenly the conversation didn't seem all that interesting anymore. I began to wish that it had ended. I blinked - twice. But I could tell from his smug look that he didn't plan to go anywhere anytime soon.

"You could say it's a nice little slice of karma we're up against. Wouldn't you?" he asked me pleasantly. "The one girl we actually like, and she plays us like a fool," I was surprised to note a similar strain of bitterness in his tone. "Maybe that's why we like her. Now that'd just be sad, wouldn't it?" he theorized darkly.

"I can do without her," I drawled stubbornly. 

"Of course."

He looked at me then, quietly. I saw the truth reflected in those eyes, in that gaze that was suddenly so irritatingly ancient. Full of pity. It stung me to the pit of my stomach. 

"You know what?" I spat. "What's stopping you? End this, why don’t you, or end us. Or maybe is this some sad attempt on your part to make me grow?"

"Believe me, you have enough people trying to do that without me dipping my toes in too," he smirked, only half-sarcastic. "Alright then, let’s do this your way. Let's get you your answers. Now, haven't you ever watched the Hulk?" My shadow self asked me instead, just a glint of mischief in those dark handsome eyes.

"The Hulk?” I repeated dumbly. I narrowed my eyes in my confusion. “And what does that have to do with anything?" I repeated slowly, confused.

"It's got everything to do with anything. You see, you're Banner, and I'm the Hulk," my shadow self explained carefully.

I nodded along. This was simple enough to understand - Redundant, sure, but simple.

"And so?" I prompted, half-impatient.

"And so I'm you - but I don't always feel like you. Not all the time," he paused purposefully, fixing me a heated meaningful look. "But sometimes I do," he repeated.

I couldn't get a word in in time. My mind throbbed painfully, the clock ticked - once, twice. 

And then he smiled at me slowly, sadly, resigned, his eyes sharp and, suddenly, just as broken as mine seemed to be. The sudden change was too abrupt for me to process without a heady sensation of shock.

" - So sometimes, I suppose I'm only human. And I guess we both have our own share of bad luck. But most of all, sometimes, often times - we kind of just like doing the wrong things."

"Hmm."

I forced a chuckle. It was painfully pathetic to the person standing before me. He knew how I really felt, after all.

"Man up, Blaine," he suggested pleasantly.

I felt a rush of surprise, one that was closely accompanied by indignation. Still, it felt weird. Like a weight had just tipped off my chest. It seemed to me that I hadn't had a talk, an ultimatum, like this in a very long time.

I hadn't ever had a friend, after all. Besides the ones I had heard in my head. But they hadn't been around since I'd been forced to down those pills a couple of years ago. Since I'd been told to stay the hell away from any kind of alcohol on the planet.

I watched him go. He didn't take very long - two blinks of the eyes, and there he went. But the smell of him lingered, that heady earthy smell. Like freshly loosened mud after the rain had just hit it.

I picked up my bottle. I took a swig. I cozied myself in my warm leather chair. And I waited for whoever the hell was going to come next. 

I was too done trying to pretend that I wasn't lonely.