I fell victim to the hold of the demon in my dream, immediately feeling stupid for not realizing it had been a trap. He held tightly to the top of my shirt, having forced me against the wall and lifted me off the ground.

Reaching out with both of mine, I grabbed onto the hand that was holding me up. I tried to lift it from my chest and push him away. Even through imagining I had greater strength than I did, all my effort was futile.

McGraff purred behind an evil grin, "Why do I get the feeling you've been avoiding me?"

"Let me go, asshole!" I growled.

He cocked his head, smile fading, "Asshole, huh?"

He laughed again, simultaneously turning and throwing my body to the side. I anticipated sliding across the smooth hospital floor, but instead was met with thuds into random boxes that fell as I hit them. My eyes darted around once I had stopped, taking in the fact that we were in the funeral parlor basement I had explored at the graveyard. Dammit, Mark! I growled at myself before quickly finding my feet.

McGraff chuckled as he watched me stand again and face him instead of running, "Oh, so little Mark has finally grown a pair. And what is it you plan on doing with this courage of yours?"

I stared at him, contemplating what to do or say. I decided not to waste my time with words and instead focused my attention on trying to make a flaming sword appear in my hand, which I found was not so easy.

Was it because he was in control of the dream? No, even if he was, it was still my dream and according to everything I had learned, I should be able to manipulate it nonetheless. I must have taken too long to do something because he started talking.

"And here I thought you'd finally decided what you want," the demon smirked, "Well, maybe I should make your mind up for yo-"

"Quit talking as if you know me!" I barked, the frustration of not being in control really starting to wear on me.

His playful attitude quickly changed to one of fury. He clearly did not appreciate being interrupted, "Oh I do know you, Mark. I know how that unappreciative slime beat and starved you; how you received the same cruel treatment from those cunts at your school; how after you found cutting wasn't enough to feel alive, you turned to dope. How everyone abandoned you; how nobody gave a shit about you, but I do."

My brow furrowed as his words momentarily took my thoughts from attempting to create a weapon. Had he been snooping in my brain? It was true, after I delved into drugs to feel something other than pain, I became hooked. It was like even after I started realizing they were doing nothing to help me, I just couldn't say no.

Every inch of me ached inside and out. I couldn't think about anything except getting my next fix and relieving the physical and emotional pain of not having it in my system. I had resorted to snorting blow when it was all that others had to offer, but the high was so short, it did little to calm me. And nobody wants a dope fiend around.

What few people who had done anything to at least act like they were my friend, completely disappeared after that. The addiction led to an extreme amount of poor and irrational choices, including leaving me sleeping in the snow behind dumpsters at many points. I'd started stealing to pay for my drug and even stole cans of food so I didn't wither away entirely.

Tyler was the only one who stayed, who helped. I had been berated numerous times about our 'toxic relationship,' which always resulted in my resentment of anything those people had to say. How could they say we enabled and hurt each other, only to assure in the same breath that I wasn't responsible for his death? What concerned me at present was why McGraff was pretending to care about me.

"What do you mean?" I asked in a softer tone, "If your aim is to get me to give you control, you're a moron."

He grinned, "Because of you, we're stuck like this. You ran back to your pathetic life like you always do. I'm the only one who appreciates your existence, Mark, because I'm stuck with you."

I scoffed, knowing the bastard was lying through his teeth, "Really, now? And I assume you have some sort of offer to make? How very demonic of you."

He laughed, "I suppose, in a sense, I am a demon now. And yes, I have a quite enticing offer."

"Let me guess," I rolled my eyes, "You can help me get to Tyler."

"I can give you all kinds of information, knowledge that can be proven, mind you," he pointed.

"Such as?"

"Why do you think those kids came to you, huh? Why you out of all people?" the demon inquired.

"Because I was messed up enough to actually trade places with you," I stated with certainty, "And because I happened to go to Daytonsville and saw them."

"Ah!" he was grinning deviously again, "It was because you saw them."

I squinted dumbly at the man before me, not taking in his meaning. I knew he was just fucking around, he had to be. He was a a freaking psychopathic murderer. Yet, since I still hadn't formulated a plan or been able to draw the sword I was envisioning, I entertained the conversation, "I don't understand."

"Not everyone sees ghosts, Mark," he continued, "And traveling to Hell while still alive? Also doesn't come so easily to physical creatures such as humans. I knew you were special the moment I smelled you, but you already knew that."

"If it's something I already know, why do I need you?" I scoffed.

"AHAHAHA!" He belted again, suddenly disappearing and reappearing directly in front of me, so close that our noses could touch, "How's that sword coming, buddy?"

I froze. Less due to his shift in position and more because he had known the entire time that I was just preparing to kill him. Not having made any progress, I readied myself to feel the steel of his claws plunge inside me as I made a desperate attempt to flee and find another way to fight.

However, when I lifted my arms to push against his chest to get away, I pulled the same flaming sword I had been thinking about up with them. The motion seemed to startle my opponent as our close proximity meant that I unintentionally cut into his sweater, simultaneously igniting it.

The demon jumped back, viciously patting the small fire before it grew. Bewildered, my eyes fell to the weapon that looked like something straight out of a fantasy epic. Fuck, it was about time!

I wondered if it would actually do any good against him and momentarily considered finishing our discussion. I lunged forward, striking relentlessly. To be honest, I had never used a sword before in my life so I had no idea what to do other than to try and hit him whilst mimicking warriors I had seen in movies.

I felt I had been doing a fair job of it too, except for the fact that I never actually struck the demon. Eventually, he once more disappeared, teleporting behind me, arms growing and slinking around me to tie me up as if they were ropes.

At the end of it, I couldn't move at all, my weapon having dropped while trying to fend his inhuman arms away from me. His head had remained resting above my shoulder throughout it all and when I was properly subdued, he whispered in my ear.

"Aw, why are you so angry at me? I'm not the one who used you," he chuckled.

"You're a fucking murderer and a demon!" I shouted back, ignoring his mind games, "And I shouldn't have brought you here!"

"Now you're just hurting my feelings," he replied sarcastically, "Suit yourself, then. Remain in the dark."

Strangely enough, I felt his intense hold on my body loosen as his arms slithered away, letting me thud to the ground since I was unable to keep my balance after the abrupt release. I immediately twisted my head, looking toward him and searching for my sword.

When I spotted the large blade laying nearby, no longer shining brightly amidst flame, I grabbed it and found my feet. McGraff had put a distance of several feet between us before stopping and simply observing me.

Coming to life again with my touch, I held my weapon high and steadied my stance for attack, "I'm not playing your stupid mind games!"

"Hmph," his face was straight, "Do what you want; unlike others, I'm not going to boss you. When you're ready to enlighten yourself, I'll be here."

The demon turned to the side, lifting his claw and slicing through the air. The movement seemed to tear a hole through the very fabric of the world we were in. Red energy beamed through the shredding and began eating away at the area around it to form a large circle of light. A portal?

Realizing that he was about to escape, I jolted forward, the fire surrounding my sword growing brighter as I ran. McGraff, however, seemed without concern for the attack. He simply looked back at me, giving a quick swish of his own blades. The metal of our weapons scraped against each other, temporarily drawing more of his attention to me.

Dark, crimson eyes boring into me just as with our first encounter, a smirk found his face. He didn't appear to be having any trouble holding the position even though it was taking every ounce of my strength to keep it. And everyone- the ghosts, that other demon- had all said he wasn't very strong. I'd like to know in what ways they meant! Or maybe I was just that weak.

With the reiteration of my own worthlessness, my will seemed to shrink, allowing my opponent to shove me off. When my ass hit the floor once again, I glared up at him. He turned his smirk in my direction as he lifted a hand and tipped an invisible hat before stepping through the exit he had created.

"Mark? Maaaaark!" a friendly voice, accompanied by gentle nudging, woke me up.

I sat up, rubbing my eyes so that I could discern who it was. Once my vision was clear and I blinked a few times to steady it, I saw Devin standing beside my bed smiling.

"Glad you could get some sleep," he continued, "But it's dinner time. Thought you might want some chow."

I looked from him to scan the room. My mind was still on the dream and on where McGraff had gone to, what his reasoning was for toying with me and not killing me. What did he want? Extending my arms above my head, then bending them behind my back to finish the stretch, I answered, "I'm not really hungry after lunch, but thanks."

"Well, at any rate, you should get your tray so you keep getting good comments," Devin laughed, "Besides, if you don't want your food, you can give it to me. And that will make you look like you did eat."

I shook my head and chuckled, "Alright. Anything to get me out of here sooner."

"Score," the guy said under his breath, but loud enough that I could hear.

I chortled louder, appreciating his silly attitude if at least for the moment. As we both returned to the activity room where food was being handed out though, the small bit of happiness fled and I was thinking about my predicament again. It was only a matter of time before he won over me.

And what if there was another way for him to get out? What if he gravitated toward my body, but wasn't actually attached? That's how he had worked before. Although he had to stay near his hometown, he was free to hover within the spiritual plane and keep killing.

"Devin?" I started, handing off the burger on my plate to him, "Is there any way to get the news in here? I haven't seen the TV on anything but DVD sitcoms."

"Thanks," he quickly grabbed my burger and took a bite, "Yeah, technically they're not allowed to keep current events from patients. It's like a civil rights thing or something. I don't know. But they won't offer that stuff freely. Want people focusing on the problems that brought them here and shit. So you gotta ask one of the workers and they'll give you a newspaper or something."

"Oh, alright," I nodded, immediately looking around to see who of the staff were in the room, "Last time I was in a ward, I didn't really care about it so I didn't know how that worked."

"Yeah, I don't care for none of it. News is always either bad news or unimportant shit," Devin took another bite.

I put my eyes on him again, "I can't argue that."

The man lifted his head and settled me in his sight, "Then why do you want it?"

Taking in a deep breath, I remembered how understanding he had been earlier and decided to answer truthfully, "You remember the ghost that I was talking about?" Devin nodded. "Well," I kept on, "I saw him during my nap and I think he may have already hurt other people while I was in here."

My friend set his burger down and stared at me inquisitively, "You think they'd put ghost attacks in the newspaper?"

He didn't seem doubtful, only very curious. I knew he had to be thinking about the stereotypical ghost stuff: items moving around the house, feeling a cold hand on your shoulder, stuff like that. And that certainly was not the type of thing typically shared on the news.

I sighed and hung my head, "They have before; with this guy, that is."

"Hey!" Devin reached a finger out and tapped it on my tray to get my attention so I looked back at him, "I can tell this is a touchy subject for you, but you can honestly talk to me. I'm not one of those dicks that's going to call you bonkers or something," then he changed from solemn to jovial, "Look at where I am," he laughed, "According to these guys, we're both crazy, so how can I judge you?"

A smile crept onto my face, feeling genuine relief at the sincerity of his words, "Okay, well, you asked for it..."