(Trigger warning: child abuse)

The little boy went up to the demon and tugged on her short skirt.

"Mommy?" For that's what the little boy called the demon. "C-can you tell me a story?"

She had bloodshot eyes and smeared red lipstick. Her hair was dyed blonde and she wore a short red dress. She held her shoes.

The demon turned towards the little boy and opened her mouth. "Why do you look like him? Hm? Do you want to torture mommy? Hm?" She smiled crazily. "Sure, mommy will tell you a story."

The little boy, not understanding the situation, looked up at her with hope laced in his watery eyes. He thought she finally would act like a real mommy. He scrambled to his room and up on his bed.

The demon followed him and grabbed the book from his hands.

The little boy's eyes shone with curiosity as the demon opened the book. She never actually read from it. She told her own story.

Once upon a time there was a horrible little boy. Everyone hated him because he was annoying and ugly.One day, his pretty daddy left him because he was bored of him. And his poor mommy had done NOTHING. IT WAS ALL THE LITTLE BOY'S FAULT. HIS FAULT.

She was shouting now.

HE LEFT. HE JUST LEFT. YOU KNOW WHO DID THAT? THE HORRIBLE LITTLE BOY. YOU KNOW HOW THAT HAPPENED? LOVE! IT WAS GREAT, THEY SAID. THE BEST FEELING IN THE WORLD.

She stopped looking at the book and turned her red-tinted gaze to the little boy. He looked just like him.

A smack. That's all that was heard. The demon had hit her only child. That was the first time she hit her little boy, but it sure wasn't the last.

She stumbled out of the room as the little boy held his cheek in shock. It wasn't until 5 minutes later that he could cry.

The little boy looked at the clock and sniffed. 11:26.

In 34 minutes the day would be over. Then he could cry. He sniffed and tried to hold it in.

After all, little boys don't cry on their 7th birthdays.

For he just wanted to be average.