The Devil's Daughter

“How’s school so far?”

The walls are white. They hurt my eyes as I try to find something to sway my attention from the severe looking woman with the open file in her steady hands. She’s staring at me through thick circles of glass, waiting for my response. I stare out of the wide window directly behind her, waiting for her to give up on me. I sit, perfectly still, and wonder how much longer I would be under her scrutiny.

“Emily, how’s school so far?” She repeats the question calmly. I can tell she’s growing impatient. I cut her some slack, and clear my throat.

“Alright, I suppose.” I go back to staring at the bare walls. In the room there is her and there is me. There’s a small picture of a beach with the word imagine in bold across the center on the desk between us. There are three chairs, hers is behind the desk, made up of dull leather that is noticeably worn in, mine and the empty one beside me is a scratchy fabric, old, and slightly stained. I turn back to woman behind the name plate of Dr. Lisa Darks, and I have to wonder who wants to be here less, me or her.

“Have you met anyone new?” She asks the question with little interest in her voice. She’s tiring of me, and I of her.

“No.” I say this curtly, and I look around the room for a clock.

“How are your classes, are you adjusting well?” I roll my eyes at this.

“Class is class, and I’ve been here for about four hours, I’ve hardly had time to adjust.”

She nods and scribbles something in my file. This is the first movement on her behalf, and the most I had said since she met me forty minutes before. She opens her mouth to speak as the bell rings.

“Well, Emily. Our time is up, but it was a pleasure meeting you, and I’ll see you once again same time tomorrow.” I nod as I grab my things and make my way out of the door labeled Dr. Darks: School psychologist.

I find the hall chaotic. Hundreds of students make their way to their perspective classes while I stand as close as possible to the wall, searching for my schedule. Three minutes pass when only a few stragglers are running for their classes, no one paying me any notice. I finally retrieve my schedule from the bottom of my bag when the bell rings.

I make my way to twelfth grade English quickly, dreading a noticeable entrance. I debate whether to skip class or not as I make my way across my vast new school, my good side wins as I place my hand on the cold metal of the doorknob.

I take a deep breath and turn it. The teacher is at the board discussing what makes a classic when I enter. The relatively large man turns to me. His grey sweater smells of coffee and cigarettes. He smiles and puts the chalk down.

“Nice of you to join us,” He looks down at a piece of paper on his desk. “Ms. Boylan, I assume.”

I nod, standing frozen in front of twenty or so of my peers. Meekly, I apologize, and gesture towards where the rest of the class is sitting.

“Take a seat wherever you’d like.” He said kindly. I make my way to the perfect seat at the back as he introduces me. “This is Emily Dove. She’s new from…” he glances once again at the paper on his desk. “Florida.”

I’m in my seat when he asks “what brings you all the way up to New York?” my breath catches in my throat as I scrounge around for the story I had came up with. I look into my bag, acting as if I’m looking for my notebook or pencil when I answer.

“My father got a job up here.” I answer weakly; I peek over my bag to see if he bought it. He’s back at the board, attempting to remember where he was in the lesson. I sigh quietly and lean back in my seat, berating myself for being such a terrible liar.

There’s a girl sitting to my left with a ring through her nose. She's accessorized her uniform with studs and spikes. She looks at me once through racoon eyes and quickly turns away. She uses her black hair as a curtain. On my right is a high school football extraordinaire. You can tell not only by the letterman jacket over his green sweater, but by the arrogance seeping from his every pore. I noted I was not going to like him. He looks at me once, smiles and nods in that cocky “I know you want me” way and turns back to the bubbly blonde by his side. I roll my eyes at the intense stereotypes I had surrounded myself with.

I look at the back of the head of the boy in front of me. He seems relatively normal; if even just a little too good looking. The light from the far window catches his mahogany hair, intensifying the red highlights. He sits upright, almost rigid. He doesn’t turn to look at me, and as far as I know, he hasn’t looked at me at all. His pale skin contrasts against his shadowed hair, so smooth it’s almost unnatural. I can’t see his face, but I can’t wait to. The deep forest green sweater of his school uniform makes his skin look like some sort of cream. I want to touch the creature before me, but I control myself throughout the rest of the class.

The rest of the class is spent focusing on keeping my mind blank. I succeed as the bell rings; I look up to watch the boy in front of my leave the classroom, hoping to catch him looking back at me. He doesn’t so much as glance and I see nothing but his retreating back. I pack my things and make my way to my last class of the day.

I find study hall to be both a blessing and a curse, an hour to be left alone, yet with my thoughts. I take this hour to practice keeping my mind blank. One day, I plan to able to render myself brain dead on call. This hour goes by relatively quickly; my mind stays quiet for the most part. The final bell rings, I find myself optimistic as I make my way to my beat up old Buick. ‘Maybe,’ I think to myself. ‘This won’t be so bad after all.’

I struggle with my belongings when I look for my keys. They aren’t in my easy to reach pants’ pocket as I had thought. They aren’t in my purse either. I put down the books I had been carrying on top of my car, the contents of my purse fall, along with two of the books from the top of the car.

I don’t move. Staring straight ahead I drop my book bag to the ground and count to ten. I wait until I can prevent myself from doing anything rash. Only I don’t have to wait long.

“The old count to ten trick, eh?” Asks a mirth filled voice. I hear books being stacked, and my things being gathered. I look down at an unfamiliar face.

She’s short, nearly a head shorter than me and she’s thin. She smiles up at me revealing perfectly straight shining white teeth behind pale lips. She stands up straight and shakes her long blond hair out from her eyes. She puts my books back on my car, beside the original pile. She zips up my purse and places it along with my books.

“My name’s Amelia.” She said with a bright smile, her blue eyes are dancing as she takes in my stunned look.

I clear my throat and smile at her timidly. “Thanks.” I say this quietly as I bend over to retrieve my book bag. I look through it for the key, finding it right where I found my schedule. “I swear this thing just eats all of my things.”

Amelia’s giggle is like music, close to the tinkling of a wind chime. I smile at her once more as I unlock my car door.

“My name is Emily.” I say to her over my shoulder. “I’m new here, this is actually my first day.”

“So I’ve heard.” Amelia says leaning against the back of the car. “From Florida?”

She asks this while looking at her nails, appearing to be only mildly interested. I sensed there was more behind the two simple words. Someone didn’t buy my simple lie. Shrugging away my paranoia, I confirmed.

“Yeah, my dad got a job offer up here.” I say throwing my things onto the passenger seat.

“I bet its way colder up here.” She says this, without looking at me. I struggle to keep my breathing even and give a small chuckle before nodding. “Well, I better be going. See you later, Emily.”

I watched the small girl climb into a black Volvo. Her golden hair swung behind her with every step. I sigh and get into my car. My ride home was spent trying to achieve keeping my mind blank once again. The sound of Amelia’s laugh replayed in my mind, her sense of knowing floated through my head.

My new place of residence sits deep within the forest that surrounds the town of Altmar, New York, (population 351) on top of a rather large hill. The house is slightly over-sized for just two people, and the huge surrounding trees keep out most of the sunlight on even the sunniest of days. The closest neighbor is five miles away, the only noises to be heard are birds or anyone inside of my desolate house.

Right now, however, there are no birds and there are no people inside of my house. The silence crushes my eardrums after turning off my car. I gather my books quickly and make my way up to the large house. The steadily chipping paint it a gray-tinted white, the glass of the house’s many windows is obviously antique, there are three stories and a wraparound porch is enclosed by sturdy columns across the front.

There is no struggle for my keys this time. I have them in my right hand, ready to get inside and out of my school uniform. The inside of my new home is no less ancient.

All of the furniture inside appears to be antique. All wood is a shade of dark cherry. Cherubs seem to be carved into every surface and crucifixes line the walls. The home once belonged to a little old lady who held out on her huge family home until her death about a month ago. My father bought it fully furnished about three days after my… incident. We brought only what we could carry. Now we suffer among the dust bunnies and Cherubs.

I make my way up to the third level where my bedroom and bathroom is. The stairs spiral up each level. All flooring is a dark cherry hard wood, my steps echo throughout the home.

My room is no less ancient than the rest of the home. The quilt on my cherry wood bed is beige and floral. A large crucifix hangs over my bed. Aside from the bed there is a small desk in the corner and a dresser along the far wall. The wood floor creeks as I make my way over to my own small bathroom. The door is right next to my dresser. With the door open, you can see a small frosted window and the edge of an old shower curtain.

I shut the door and strip out of my school uniform and turn on the shower. I look at myself through the mirror.

My body is pale and weak. I can make out each of my ribs through my nearly transparent skin. The deep purple bruises leave the only evidence of the “incident” that took place less than a month ago. My deep raven locks spiral down past my small breasts. I look into my eyes, finding that they continue to change. Once a deep emerald, they have dulled into a dark green. I shake my head and turn back to the now steaming shower.

I keep my shower short, knowing my father would appreciate one when he returns from work. I set out to find a book in the house. Thinking that within such a large house there’s bound to be a library. My exploration of the home went on for a while.

The house holds nothing of interest, the entire thing reeking of dust and stale air. I sigh and flip on a decrepit TV in the corner of the living room. The local news and Jeopardy is on. I give up soon, and settle into one of my father’s history books.

I’m soon asleep, alone in the deafeningly quiet house. I awake to the sound of my father pulling into the gravel driveway.

“Em!” He calls loudly as he walks through the front door.

“Hey, dad.” I say quietly, walking into the foyer to greet him.

His glasses are fogged over, and his hair is a mess. I look up at him when I ask him about his day.

“It was alright, how was yours?” He’s already making his way upstairs to hide away in his room.

“It was okay.” I sigh and wait for a response. The door creeks open and clicks shut, once again I am alone.

It’s only seven O’clock yet I climb into my ancient bed that squeaks with every move. I set my alarm on my phone and plug it into the wall. The darkness of the room crushes me along with the heavy silence, I turn on the light. It’s three AM when I finally fall asleep.



Getting up in the morning has never been the easiest task for me. This morning is no different. The house’s crushing silence intensifies the effect of my alarm, a repetitively screeching beep. There is little time for my morning routine by the time I extract myself from the confines of my bed. I brush my hair roughly as I throw on my school uniform. I pull the forest green cardigan over my white blouse as I run downstairs.

My father is already at the office, and there’s no sign that he was in the house at all. My keys are where I left them on the antique shelf by the front door. My car is where I left it in the drive. The ride to school is without incident, besides the unfortunate amount of red lights on the way.

The walk into school, however, doesn’t go quite as smoothly. My plaid skirt manages to get stuck in the door of my car, while my books escape from my grasp. By the time I escape my car’s grasp, the bell has already rung. I gather my books and rush towards the school. When I reach the door, I realize I’ve left both my purse and my bag inside my car.

On my way back to my car, I walk slowly, aggravated and reserved. Attempting to keep calm I unlock the car and retrieve my things.

“Not your morning either, is it?” a familiar voice calls from behind me. Straightening up I see Amelia make her way over to me from her car.

“Not in the slightest.” I respond when she reaches me.

“My alarm didn’t go off.” She sighed. Then smiled and shrug.

“Mine did, I just chose to ignore it.” She opens the door and we enter the quiet school which is now in session. “I would have made it had I not gotten caught on my car door and then dropped all of my belongings while forgetting my bags in the car.”

I open the office door for her, and walk up to the secretary.

“Good morning, I’m sorry I’m late. I’ll just need a pass.” The secretary looks up at me disgruntled. This isn’t going to be pleasant, I can already tell.

“And why, might I ask, are you late?” She’s tapping her pen into her palm in that real annoying way that informs me of her insatiable thirst for power. A power, might I add that she does not have.

“Just one of those days, sorry Miss…” I look over at the name plate on her desk. “Sturks…”

“Well, I’m sorry simply doesn’t cut it.” She fills out a red pass and hands it to me, and glares past me at Amelia. The red pass reads unexcused late in bold across the top. I fight the urge to argue and shoot Amelia a look that clearly says ‘what a bitch.’ as I walk out.

The halls in my new school are dull. Lockers line the wall with very little interruption, excluding the occasional glass case of trophies. The floors are a fake marble, as white as the walls. The fluorescent lighting gives me a headache, and the puke green of the lockers give me a stomach ache.

My first class is already well into the lesson when I walk in. The teacher simply looks over from the board, eyes the pass, and then nods towards my seat. I take it gladly, and pull out my notebook labeled honors algebra two. The class is as dull as it sounds. I’m quickly learning that everything here in Altmar, New York is dull. I spend the thirty-three minutes left in class doodling inside my notebook. I look up periodically, looking thoughtfully at the board. Teach seems to think I’m taking notes on the paper that is now dedicated to nonsense scribbles and checker boards.

         The bell rings and I cant get out of there sooner. My second class of the day isn’t much better. Physical education has never been a favorite of mine. I make my way slowly to the class. I’m almost there when I decide to ditch it and head to the library.

         The librarian pays me no notice as I make my way to the back of the relatively large room. There are couches, desks, and tables strewn throughout the many bookshelves. I pick an armchair in the far right corner of the room. There’s another one sitting in front of me, and I nearly pray that no one sits there.

         It’s doubtful as the full caliber of silence hit me. There seemed to be no one but myself in the library. Allowing myself that comfort I began looking through the selection my new school held.

         There’s nothing out of the ordinary, only the typical choices for a high school and I make my way back to my chair empty handed, prepared to do my algebra homework.

         As I near my seat, however, I see the back of the head of the boy who sits in front of me in English. He’s in the very chair I prayed no one would sit in. I debate whether to leave, but realize all of my things are left beside my chair. I take a deep breath and comfort myself with the thought of finally seeing this gorgeous boy’s face.

         Quietly I sit down across from the mysterious boy. He’s reading an obscure hard backed book, his nose nearly hitting the page, hindering my view of his features. I almost sigh in frustration, but hold it back and take out my algebra homework.

         I look up as he turns the page, causing him to reveal some of his face, if only for a moment. For a split second his black eyes meet mine. But quickly, almost too quickly, they’re back behind the book, as if it hadn’t happened at all.

         His creamy pale skin is stretched tight over a perfectly sculpted bone sculpture. Though the depths of his ebony eyes scared me, they enchanted me. Quite literally. Abandoning all efforts of completing homework. I simply stare at the beautiful creature before me.

         His hair appears to be black here in the dark corner of the library, sitting in casual disarray atop his head. I don’t know if what I want to do more: touch the beautiful boy, or hit him for being so perfect.

         Its hard to tell how much time passed, but after a while he clears his throat and puts his book down. I find myself startled at the few frontal view of him.

         The perfection of his face can only be viewed in parts in order to prevent hyperventilation or shock, I decide as I gaze at his uncovered face. He stares back at me, his expression blank, merely waiting.

         His jaw line flows with the perfection of his face. His lips are a deep kind of red, his nose is perfectly straight. His entire face is without blemish or anything that would suggest normalcy. Everything about this boy is perfect and I find myself torn between intense lust and intense loathing.

         Finally I smile at him shyly, and he continues staring at me. I wonder what he’s thinking as he slowly smiles back at me.

         There is no warmth in his black eyes, they scare me, but I find that it’s impossible for me to look away.

         “My name‘s Emily.” I’m so grateful that I didn’t stutter. My voice comes out even and normal, as if I weren’t sitting across from a greek god.

         “Hi, Emily.” the boy replies. He looks amused and almost smug. This just annoys me. I wait a few moments before saying:

         “This is where you introduce yourself.” I nearly spit, I’m surprised at the rude tone in my voice, but I continue to glare at Mr. Perfect until he answers.

         “Well, Emily. My name is Ethan. It‘s nice to make your acquaintance.” He’s on the verge of laughter as he puts his book in his bag.

         His voice is a perfect match to his face. If a voice had a taste it would be like melted milk chocolate. This may sound ridiculous, but it’s true. Silky and low, almost like magic, I find myself needing to hear more.

         I’m thinking hard on a topic to bring up, just to hear his voice as the bell rings. He gives a little wave, and I find myself disappointed that I didn’t even get a spoken goodbye. That’s when I realized Ethan could not possibly be human.

         I’m not sure I want to break from my reverie, so I stay put in my corner of the library, skipping my third period art class. This period of time ticks by slowly as I relive every moment sitting with Ethan. When the next bell rings I am prepared and head over to the cafeteria.

         As it is my second day I have yet to make friends, so I sit alone at the back of the cafeteria. I’m okay with this as I pull out an apple from my bag. I am prepared to relive my encounter with Ethan for the umpteenth time for the next thirty minutes. I’m imagining his silky smooth voice when a tinkling of a voice cuts in.

         “Hey Emily!” She’s smiling brightly at me as she pulls out a chair for herself across from me.

         “Hello Amelia.” I reply, slightly less enthusiastic, but happily nonetheless.

         “So how‘s your second day going?” She asks, but I’m staring across the cafeteria. She turns around and follows my gaze. She releases a melody of her wind chime giggle.

         “Ethan Hale, Emily?” She’s smiling at me amused. I blush and begin inspecting my apple, which is quite red might I add. “Don’t be embarrassed, trust me. Many have let our eyes wander to the infamous Ethan, but he doesn’t show any interest in anyone. He doesn’t even talk to anyone. Like ever. Well, other than his brother and sister. I don’t think anyone would ever hear his voice if it weren’t for teachers.”

         I look at her confused.

         “That cant be true.” I say, it’s her turn to look confused. “Well, he talked to me this morning.”

         She continues looking at me confused, almost disbelieving. I chuckle.

         “I’m serious, Amelia.”

         “Oh my gosh.” She looks back at the tall model of perfection and then back at me. “Tell me everything.”

         So I tell her everything. Excluding how terrifying I found his eyes to be and how I was desperate to hear his voice again.

         “Wow.” Is all she said as she leaned back in her chair. Her tray of food is forgotten between us. My eyes are drawn back to Ethan.

         He’s staring back at me with a blank look on his face. There’s a boy nearly as perfect as him to his right and beside him is a beautiful girl. He continues to stare, and I find it impossible to look away.

         “He‘s gunna catch you staring you know.” Amelia giggles at my shameless staring, and thankfully breaks me out of my trance.

         “Can I tell you something?” I lean towards Amelia, speaking in hushed tones. She nods. “I mean something that you in no way can tell anyone. Ever.” I say this and glance back at Ethan, who is now whispering to the boy beside him. Amelia’s now leaning forward and in the same hushed tone she agrees to the terms. I feel a blush creeping into my cheeks, and I sigh. “He has some kind of a hold on me.”

         She looks at me oddly. “He‘s an attractive guy.” she said as if the fact sums it all up.

         “Yes, but an unnatural hold, Amelia.” I find myself confiding in the girl I had met the day before. She continues to look at me oddly. “I mean like… oh god, please don’t tell anyone.”

         “I promise!”

         “Okay, it’s just like…” I find it hard to say it out loud, Amelia continues leaning forward, waiting for me to spit it out. “Well, earlier today when he left I felt like I needed to hear his voice again.” Amelia smiled, a knowing little smile, but I continue to press on. “And just now, he was staring at me when I looked up. And when I looked in his eyes I could not look away until you started talking to me.”

         “Looks like you have a huge crush to me, Em.” She smiles and takes a bite out of her sandwich. I know it’s more than that, but I allow her to believe that as I eat my apple.