A mall parking lot filled with cars, people coming and going at rapid paces, was the start of it all. 

A family of four left their car, consisting of a mother, father, and a son and daughter. The oldest child was eight, an energetic ginger named Jessica. Her mother was forced to hold her from running out into the parking lot, saving her as a truck drove slowly rumbled past them.

The truck held two individuals, one human and one inhuman. The owner of the vehicle was the former, a man in his mid forties who looked tired, the corner’s of his eyes downcast. He gripped the steering wheel tight, afraid of what he was about to do. He knew it was wrong, that it wasn’t what God would want, but he had no will. The ability to resist the creature next to him had long ago been burned to the ground. 

He briefly eyed the family of four, a somber smile on his face. They looked happy together, enjoying each other’s company in a way he had lost with his own. He briefly wondered if his growing disdain for his wife is what led him to so easily fall to the influence of a creature that was obviously a demon. He also knew that, if it was the case, all he had to do in order to fix this all was leave her. Taking the kids didn’t matter, all he wanted was his twilight years to him–

A snap of inhuman fingers, and the demon eliminated that thought. They replaced it instead with self-hate and the belief he was beyond saving. Once more, he was reminded of what the demon in the passenger seat had told him. What he was about to do was God's will, and if he didn’t listen to God he was destined for Hell.

It was far closer to the Old Testament, a version of God he didn’t believe in, but it didn’t matter. He waa barely himself anymore, the demon using him like a puppet on a string.

He found a parking spot not too far from where the family of four had parked. As soon as he was parked, his hands fell to his side, eyes devoid of life and free will. The humanoid creature that he shared the car with smiled devilishly. A hand patting the man's head like he was some pet, and like one he smiled.

“You are close now. Close to his will, and your place in heaven,” the demon lied, twin voices leaving its mouth. One was of a seductress, the other was of a lustful man. One hand trailed down her seat, effortlessly finding the pistol at its feet, and grabbed it. “All you need to do now, is put the fear of God in these people. It is his will.”

The man looked not to the demon, but to the gun now presented to him. With the aid of the demon’s hands, one of his own was placed on the pistol grip. It forced him to grasp it, and then brought it to the holster concealed at the belt loop on his pants.

“It… is… his… will,” the man mimed, robotic and lifeless.

The car door opened, he stepped out, and slowly made his way towards the mall… following right after the family of four. The demon’s sinister smile turned into something even darker as it opened the other door. It stepped out, as if about to follow the man inside, but instead stepped on the hood of the truck. After some careful, light steps on the vehicle’s front window, it was on the machines roof 

Then, patient and excited, the demon waited. Elation filled its dark heart, days of preparation on the verge of paying off. When the day was done, it wouldn’t need to worry about food again for years. There would be more than enough nightmares and trauma to fuel its hunger for power, plenty of still living souls to eat it from.

Yet there were always those who would get in the way, and as the demon closed its eyes, it knew one of those humans was looking at it right now.

“You are wondering why I would dare to show myself in broad daylight, when I am at my weakest,” the demon said, addressing its observer directly. “You know just as well as I, knight, that any chance to avoid your kind at night is worth taking in our eyes. I’m also sure you know that, just as I am powerless right now, so are yo–“

“What did you do to dad?!”

The demon’s eyes open, a flash of shock dispelling its confidence. It turned to the back of the truck, looking into the eyes of a young boy. His form was covered in sweat, face and breathing heavily. There was just as much hate in those dark brown eyes as there was fear. Was it fear of the demon, or for the man it had sent into the mall?

The answer didn’t matter, and with the initial shock having worn off the demon’s smile returned. Now this was an interesting twist of fate. Quite an interesting one indeed.

“You are his son, right? Matthew, I believe?” the demon asked casually. It gave the boy an open mouth grin, showing off jagged, unnaturally sharp teeth. “A pleasure to meet you.”

“What did you do to him?” Matthew asked again, practically screaming.

“Oh, I just told him the ‘truth’ of your so-called God. Amazing what the weaker willed of your kind will do with the slightest push,” it replied, all too happy to tell this child the truth. “Of course, you aren’t anything like your dad, are you? You don’t believe in God, you aren’t weak willed,” it’s smile grew even creepier, “and that body. That isn’t truly you, is it?”

Matthew tensed up, fear gaining just a little bit more control. They had never spoken before this moment, and yet somehow it talked as if it had known every little thing about them. He saw now just why his dad had fallen under this creature's control. It really did give off the impression of a demon from hell having come to Earth.

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That wasn’t the truth, though, Matthew knew it. God wasn’t real, he had known that for a few years now. This creature, so closely matching a demon, was not that. It was something far more real, and therefore much worse.

“What… are you?” Matthew said, his fear of the being before him growing greater by the second.

“Well I am not Satan, nor am I some minion of his,” the creature replied. “Put simply, I am your mother, your father, your cousins and sister and everyone else.” It turned its attention back to the mall. “Yes, Matthew, that includes you too. Every bad memory, every fear, I am a part of it. I am the darkness you hide from at night, the anger of your mother on a bad day… your hatred for the body you have.

“Do keep it by the way. Same goes for your name. Your self-hatred has been absolutely delicious, and I would love for it to stay.” The creature stepped off the roof and into the truck’s back, towards the teenager. “Yet you didn’t really mean what I was, did you? You wanted a name to point your hate towards. That, I will be more than happy to oblige.” It layed down as it came within distance of touching the boy, the black carcass of the machine somehow not burning its stomach. Reaching a hand out, it touched Matthew’s cheek. “Let's make it an interesting one. You may call me… Baphomet.”

Matthew stepped backwards, glare intensifying in an attempt to hide evergrowing terror. The creature, Baphomet, was cold at the touch. Just the littlest bit of contact made him feel like he had been transported into the arctic. It made the sweltering heat several times worse than it really was, once he had pulled away.

Baphomet couldn’t help but laugh at the boy’s attitude. So much courage and bravery was visible in his eyes, yet he did nothing to actively stop them. After all, what could a mere boy do against something that was so clearly unnatural.

The fire, the want to fight, gave the creature before him an idea. It was awful, and it was perfect.

“You know, seeing the love you have for your father, I deeply regret what I told him to do,” Baphomet stated, standing back up. It pointed in the direction of the mall. “I can’t stop him, not anymore. He is outside of my control, but not yours. Perhaps, if he heard his son's voice, reason will return to him.”

The lie had done as expected, Matthew’s mind grabbing hold of what had been put before him. He could stop his dad from making whatever mistake he was about to make. He could be saved from this creature. Whatever reason it had for telling him didn’t matter.

Baphomet watched as Matthew darted off in the direction of his father as fast as his legs allowed him. With an added, horrible wrinkle to the day's affairs, they climbed back onto the roof of the truck. Elation grew, and patience wore thin, eager to hear the sound of chaos fill the midday air.

It was only fitting it happened when they least expected it to.

A shot rang out, and screams filled the air.

The moment he heard the shot, Matthew stopped. His pupils dilated in sudden, horrified understanding at what Baphomet had sent his dad to: his death. There was a shooter in that mall, and somehow the creature had known about it. Two possibilities ran through his head, neither good.

He forced himself to believe the one where his father wasn’t the shooter.

Against what was best for him, hanging on to that shred of hope Baphomet had dangled before him, Matthew charged forward once more. He was met with a horde of people rushing at him, through the automatic doors and back outside. His breath momentarily caught in his throat, and he ducked to the side and hopefully out of people's way.

He took cover behind a green van and merely watched as the mob charged passed him. None made their way to the van he used as cover; its owner was likely still inside. He barely managed to catch a glimpse of the horror and fear that laid in the eyes of those who passed by. Colors of shirts, pants, hair, and skin mixed together into a cacophony that was impossible to pick out of.

The mob didn’t seem to end, and with every second that passed it became more obvious it wasn’t about to let up. He had to get moving; he had to find his dad and get them out. That meant he would have to worm his way between cars. With a push off the van and towards where one parking space met another, he broke back into a sprint.

He barely felt his feet meet the asphalt below as he wormed his way between the back and fronts of vehicles. Every once in a while he would see people entering them, or searching for keys, or any other number of things. One time he had nearly had his legs crushed due to someone accidentally putting their car in drive.

What am I doing? Why am I heading in? He asked himself, his thoughts providing no true answer. I’m not supposed to play the hero. I’m going to get myself killed. Dad wouldn’t want that. Mom wouldn’t either.

It didn’t matter what he told himself, his legs continued to move forward. He had made his way through the cars, leaving nothing but open space and a people between him and the automatic doors leading inside. It was only then he stopped, eyes landing on two particular people.

To be more exact, one person and one corpse.

A woman in her early twenties sobbed loudly into the dead body of another. Were they a friend, a sister, possibly a significant other? Matthew didn’t know, and given the bullet holes that riddled their shirt and turned and black and red, it didn’t matter. Bile attempted to work their way up his stomach, but he somehow kept it down… for now.

Dad is going to die. His brain finally answered. Mom hates him, but she wouldn’t want him to die. Grace too. I have to save him. I need to do something.

He would deal with any talks the police gave him about playing the hero later. Baphomet had made it pretty clear what they had sent his dad into. While it might have just been a way to get him killed too, Matthew also believed they were right.

The only one who could possibly get his dad out alive was himself.

Steeling themselves as best as they were able, he willed his legs to walk forward. Asphalt turned to concrete as the space between him and the doors of the mall got closer. He wasn’t sure anymore of the sweat on his face was from stress or stowing away in the back of the truck. It didn’t matter. One hand reached out, ready to pry open doors despite knowing he wouldn’t need to. As if responding to a magic spell, they opened for him… and he stepped inside.