The Devil Wore My Name

IV. ORATHAN.

"R-Rick?" she stuttered, blinking a couple of times to wipe away the hallucination.

But her brother was unresponsive to her calls. She gulped as she gathered the courage to approach him. For a second, she doubted he was her brother.

The second her fingertips came in contact with the fabric of his white hoodie, he snapped. She felt her heart finally at ease as she saw the light come back to the violet of his eyes.

Elfric raised his head as the world started to clear in his eyes; the last couple of minutes were a haze he couldn't remember.

 He felt that he wasn't there, that there was nothing but a void, an empty vessel left in space. He felt the thick sweat fall down his brow. As he regained his senses, he noticed the long, hard stare of his sister, who was half a step ahead of him, watching as he came back to life.

"W-What happened?" Elfric stuttered as he brought a hand to his forehead, wiping the sweat that was forming despite the chillness of the morning breeze.

"You were out of it for a good minute there, Elfric," she said, worry still looming on her face. "Are you sure that you are well enough to go to school again?"

"I'm fine!" he interrupted, leaving her no time to debate.

 She was right the previous night when she said he shouldn't be going to school when he just came out of the hospital.

'Besides, if I stay at home, that voice is going to kill me alive,' he told himself.

No one knows yet of the hallucinations that have been happening to him since that cursed night –

That shadow.

The voice in his head was getting more frequent, saying the same thing over and over again.

'I shall hear thee call'

There it was again. He wanted to scream out that he never called anyone. He didn't need anyone to heed his call because there was none, to begin with!

"Let's go," he muttered, as he clenched his fist over the strap of his bag.

He didn't wait for his sister to reply and went on ahead of her. Her calls fell on deaf ears as he wasn't fully in his head.

Elfric watched as his sister entered her school building, and she met up with her friends. The smile that she had plastered on her face made him realize what he was about to lose that night – that cursed night.

He envied her, her natural dark brown hair and the honey-colored eyes that they got from their father.

He doubted Joanna was aware of that; she was too young when their father went to work and never came back. The only thing that he had taken from him was the color of his left eye. It was the only thing he shared with his family. 

He finally snapped out of his daze from the loud honks of the traffic behind him. He dragged his feet to school. Like always, his hood covered the whiteness of his hair, casting a shadow on his face. It also helped him make less contact with the people on the street.

It reeked of Nobility, the expensive smell of their perfume made him want to puke. All he had to do was cross that bridge to get to the other side of the city, to leave the ruins of the once-great city of London, and find himself in the den of the Nobility. Lauxdale.

Why did a commoner like him go to school in Lauxdale? Well, the answer is simple.

The government thought it would be a good idea to put him and nobles in the same school. Commoners and nobility in one urban fabric sounded like a good way to emphasize democracy in the country.

He halted when his path was blocked by men dressed in black. He raised his head in annoyance, making sure to keep his face from view. Five men were lined up in front of him.

He could have just maneuvered his way around them if it hadn't been for the narrow sidewalk, and from the looks of it, they weren't just standing his way by coincidence.

A man dressed in a black suit similar to the other four came forth a step.

His eyes were narrowed – or that was how he usually looked – Elfric couldn't decide. 

"May I help you?" said Elfric as he raised an eyebrow.

"Elfric Woods," the man in black approached, his hands held behind his back.

It was clear he was here in someone else's stead.

"If I said no, that would still not change whatever you have in your mind," Elfric snorted, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. He frowned as he saw the smirk starting to spread on the red-haired man.

"I see why Orathan would choose you."

The way that this man talked felt like it was created for the sole purpose of pissing Elfric off, and he wasn't exactly having the best of mornings to begin with.

"You have got the wrong guy," said Elfric, adjusting his bag on his shoulder as he decided to leave.

Elfric felt a strong hand grab his forearm. His eyes darkened, and he turned to look over his shoulder at the red-headed man who was holding him firmly by the arm.

"If I were you, I would let go," Elfric hissed.

At this point, he couldn't care less if that man noticed the color of his eyes. No, if he approached him knowing who he is, then he must already know. Even though he has no idea why in the world this noble would be looking for him.

"Orathan," said the man in black. "If you are within this human, then, I summon you to come forth."

For a second there, Elfric wanted to ask if this man was alright. What the hell is he talking about, and who the hell is Orathan that he seems to be looking for?!

The man gestured to the four men behind him. Their speed wasn't human. No one moved at that speed, but to Elfric's surprise, he found himself dodging with ease.

"It's him," the man in black said. "Kill him."

And that was all Elfric witnessed. The next thing he knew, darkness swallowed him whole. His mind emptied, as if he'd ceased to exist. Yet, somewhere far off in that void, the screams reached him—raw, piercing, and agonizing.

Was he the one screaming?

No, it wasn't him. That wasn't his voice. It was probably the voices of the men. But why would they be screaming when he was the one about to get beaten to a pulp?

The answer came to him at that moment; he was out of his daze. The strong smell of blood was blinding him as he opened his eyes to find himself in a narrow alley somewhere.

His eyes darted off his surroundings. Blood was painting the walls around him like graffiti, except that this one was still dripping into the dirt – the blood was freshly splashed on the walls, and it was not long before Elfric saw the 4 bodies on the ground, drowning in their own blood.

Their eyes were dilated as if they had seen the devil before they left to meet him once again.

What the hell happened here!? Elfric brought up his hands to wipe the sweat off his face, only to smear his face with the blood that was coating his hands like gloves.

He turned his hands over, making sure that it was him. The reflection that he saw in the glass of a passing car ahead made it clear that it was him.

The bloody hands were his.

Did he kill them?!

There was no way! He was annoyed, but not to the extent that he would have to kill them!? How – just how did he do that?

He has no memory. The moving figure on the ground caught his attention.

The red-headed man was looking at him with the same look on the faces of the others, except that this one… was alive.

"Y-You m..monster…You are...Orathan,"