Eamon's eyes had gotten used to the darkness. His unfocused gaze could only see faint movements of light in the shadows.
A few moments later, he slowly regained control of his body. Blinking repeatedly, he realized his hands were held from behind. He turned and found himself in the grip of a masked man.
In a small dirty concrete room was heavy steel door, no windows, and across from him was his grandfather, lying unconscious, with another man standing over him, a gun pointed directly at his head.
Panic surged through Eamon's body. "GRANDPA!"
The old man did not react to his call.
"LET ME GO!" Eamon struggled to free himself, but the grip only tightened. "GRANDPA!"
"Who are you people?! Let us go!" Eamon continued to thrash, but the man holding him delivered a sharp punch straight to his gut, causing him to double over. He gasped for air as he fought through the pain, coughing up his own drool.
At that moment, the door burst open, and a figure stepped into the room. Eamon looked up as he regained himself.
An imposing black smoke spread across the small concrete room, nearly suffocating him.
His eyes widened in horror as he recognized the man before him... was possessed.
The man had a large grin on his face, no black blood oozed, and his eyes were eerily normal.
"Hiya kid," greeted the man before him, his voice in a playful tone. "Do you know why you're here?"
Eamon was confused, shaking his head in fear, unable to speak.
"Well, it's simple. We need your help," the man continued. "If you don't cooperate, things will get worse for him." He pointed at Manuel, and Eamon shivered at the sudden shift from playful to serious in his demeanor.
Black smoke continued to swirl around him, appearing and disappearing.
Did they not get the wrong people? Eamon wondered. He was confused as to what an old man and a kid like him could possibly give to these men.
"What do you want from us?" Eamon's voice trembled.
"Let me see your white form."
"White form..." Eamon echoed, racking his brain for any clue as to what that could mean.
The man took a knife out of his pocket and walked closer to Manuel.
"No..."
"Let me see it, or he dies."
Eamon trembled with dread. "Please no. Don't hurt grandpa," his breathing grew short and rapid. "What's that? Maybe if you teach m—"
The blade swung, straight into Manuel's palm.
"NO!"
Blood splattered and poured.
"DON'T HURT HIM! STOP!" He squirmed, his wrists becoming numb from the futile attempts to be free.
Ignoring his cries, the man moved closer to Manuel. Eamon's heart shattered as he watched, helpless, tears streaming down his face.
Another slice on the thighs, and another on the abdomen.
"STOP! Please..."
The man, amused with his actions, began to laugh. "Go on then. Do it."
Eamon continued to cry, looking at his unconscious grandfather with cuts on his body.
"I don't know what you're talking about... Please... Not grandpa..." he hiccupped between his sobs, "He's the only one I have left..." His gaze fell to the floor, as it broke him the longer he stared at his remaining family.
Another slice to the arms, and the man stabbed Manuel in the guts.
Aghast, Eamon only froze as blood splattered out of his grandpa.
Another stab, and another, again, and again, repeatedly Manuel was impaled, right in front of him.
"No..." his voice barely above a whisper. "No... no..."
Warmth started to spread in his stomach.
"NO!" Eamon fought, thrashed more violently, "NO! NO! NO! STOP! GET AWAY! NO! ARGHH!!"
The man only chuckled. When he was done, he stood up, wiping the splatter of blood on his face.
He took the gun from one of the masked man and pointed it to Manuel's head.
"One last try, kid."
He cocked the gun's hammer, making a clicking sound.
Heat surged within Eamon's body, as his breathing got ragged and worse. Nauseous, cold sweat, throbbing head... ringing ears...
He only stared at the man, and his demonic eyes of pitch black peeked for a minute.
Eyes began to unfocus, as he tried to steady his breathing. "Grandpa..." the room swayed, "...needs me."
He bit on his tongue to regain focus and the man crouched, the gun now pointed at Manuel's forehead.
"Well, say goodbye." The man smirked.
The room seemed to freeze in that moment.
Eamon's heart pounded in his chest, each beat echoed in his ears, all other noises drowned out.
The world slowed. He could only watch as the man tightened his finger on the trigger.
A deafening gunshot rang out. It echoed through the room, the sound seemed to reverberate endlessly.
A silent scream caught in Eamon's throat. His eyes widened. For a moment, his vision went pure blinding white. Knees fell to the floor, the burning in the stomach stronger.
His head snapped up, eyes now empty, Eamon was unconscious.
"Let him go," he ordered. The man gave the gun back and crossed his arms. "Now we wait..."
Not a minute later, Eamon woke up, in all of the white form's glory. Long, white, luminescent hair and eyes that glowed.
"Perfect." The man laughed.
Eamon stood up without saying a word, running straight to the demon, pushing him against the wall in a chokehold.
The man only laughed, "Guess... it worked... too much... on ya," he managed to say despite his whole head red and throbbing.
Eamon's grip tightened, and the black swirls of smoke agitated from behind him. The man disappeared from his clasp, and now behind him.
"You need to train more, young Malach."
He ran toward him again, delivering a punch but only the smoke form received it. He attempted one more in the side, and the same thing happened. The man moved where the smoke took him.
The last attempt and the man was no longer inside the room.
"I've done my job here," the man said, and the smoke vanished into thin air.
"WHERE ARE YOU?" He shouted, but nobody answered.
Eamon looked around and realized nobody was in the room anymore.
It was only him and his grandfather, who lay unconscious before him, void of life.
He fell to the floor, his form fading.
Crawling to his grandfather, he lay beside him, and he cried himself to sleep.