The Devil's Hand

The Flames of Hell and Misery

The clanks echoed off the walls.
        Clank.
        The clanks echoed off the floor.
        Clank.
        The clanks echoed off the ceiling.
        Clank.
        The clanks told me to fight.
        
        The clanks stopped. They stopped and they had stolen my courage. I swallowed the blood my my mouth, wishing I could do the same with my fear. My head faced the wall, an unknown figure stood behind me. I wished I had my dagger.
        The clanks had stopped, but the fear of my death never left. I shivered in dread. My hand clutched my pants, failing to wipe the sheen of sweat away. I tried to speak but the words wouldn’t come out.
        “Look, at, you,” the figure taunted in an unmistakable voice. “Poor, useless, you.”
        I wanted to scream but my mouth wouldn’t move.
        “Weak. Useless. You.”
        A growl forced its way up my throat.
        “Wimpy. Lame. You.”
        Wimpy, lame, poor, useless, weak! Weak! I was wimpy, I always hid. Lame, I couldn’t even keep my brother alive. Poor, my life was a wreck and I never did anything about it. Useless, always failing. Weak. I was weak. I was weak and I always hid, I never got any stronger and I failed at keeping my brother alive. I failed. I hid. I failed. I was weak.
        Anger surged through me. Who dares. Who dares! Who dares!
        “Weak,” the figure taunted.
        I will become strong.
        “Useless.”
        I will win.
        “Wimpy.”
        I will face my fears.
        “Poor.”
I will change my fate.
“Lame,”
I will get revenge.
I will get revenge. I will change my fate. I will face my fears. I will win. I will become strong. The flames of hell and misery will never destroy me!
I swung around to face the one who taunted me.
My face was inches away from hers and I knew she was the one who killed Sebastian. I saw the ghost of her victims in her eyes. I saw the grin of Rogue. I saw the faint smile of Evalïne. I saw the laugh of Arrow. I saw their bodies, broken. I saw the blood, puddled by their heads.
I saw deaths. I saw blood. I saw pain. I saw murder.
I saw the face of the girl I knew.
I saw the face of Chloe.
Her hair was cut short to her shoulders. Her yellow shirt was ripped and covered with blood. The blood of my friends. This was the real Chloe. It wasn’t the one that screamed at the sight of bones. It wasn’t the one who wore dresses and makeup.
This was the Chloe I was supposed to be. She was strong. She was rich. She was a winner. She was brave. She was the perfect Chloe.
She was perfect, perfect to a fault.
Smirking she stepped back, pushing the table aside.
“Like my new look?” she sneered.
Her grin sent shivers up my spine but I ignored them.
“What do you want Chloe?” I asked sternly.
“Don’t call me that,” she said sweetly, “Call me Klō.”
“Klō,” I spat, “then what is my name?”
“Dead. You’re dead.”
I resisted the urge to laugh in fear. “Dead? Please.”
“Oh, you don’t like it?” she taunted.
“No,” I stated my eyes never leaving hers. “Call me… The Queen ”
“Does it matter ‘Queen’? You’ll be gone in a few minutes anyway. I wish you well in hell.”
Then she launched herself at me, her lip curled back revealing a nasty set of fangs. With a dagger in her hand she managed to cut the side of my face before I fell to the ground in a forward roll. She tried to regain her balance but I stuck my leg out, hitting her in the back of her legs. She fell to the ground but quickly got up, panting.
She stood there, gasping for breath when I grabbed her arm. With her arm in my grip I kept running, pulling her with me. She lost her balance and started to fall but I wouldn’t let that happen. I heaved and threw her against the wall facing me.
She slowly slided down the wall, soaked in blood. The force of my throw should have killed her already but that wasn’t going to happen soon.
I strided over to her and lifted her up by the collar. I spat in her face and asked, “Why did you kill them? Why did you kill your brother?”
“Because,” she weakly managed to say,  “I was following your orders.”
“No, you weren’t following my orders. I never told you to do anything,” I replied, my voice shaking.
“You,” she coughed blood in my face, “You told...you told me the only way to survive was to kill. To kill all in your way.”
“If that is so,” I said, “then why am I still alive?”
“Because you are weak.”
“No, I am not weak!” I yelled.
“You gave in to hate.”
“No! No!” I screamed, dropping the girl.
“You,” I snarled. “You gave in to hate. You killed for no reason! You deserve to die!”
My punch flew forward, hitting her in the face. All that remained of Chloe died, there would be no more clones. She killed my friends for no reason and I hated it. She died and I was glad. She was the weak one. The weak ones are the people who die.