Joel stood in his kitchen, staring blankly at the toaster as if it owed him answers.
Two slices of bread popped up very burnt.
Of course.He scraped them with a knife, watching the black crumbs flake off like sins he couldn't confess. He hadn't slept. He smelled like guilt, cheap coffee, and the sour sweat of a man who had absolutely sold his daughter's soul to a demon lord.
Joel sat at the table across from her. Or who he thought was her.
Yvonne.
Her pink plastic plate sat there, ketchup shaped like a heart, because he always made ketchup hearts. A few chicken nuggets sat untouched.She stared at him.
Or maybe just past him.There was a buzzing in his ears. Guilt? Maybe. Or maybe it was just the sound of a thousand moral compasses snapping in half."Eat up, sweetheart," he said with a grin so forced it was practically stapled to his face. "Can't let your food get cold. Or... uh, colder."
She didn't respond, she just blinked.
But in Joel's mind? She giggled. "You're weird, Daddy."
He laughed, shaky and wet. "Takes one to know one.""Let me explain something," he mumbled, mostly to himself. "Parenting is about sacrifice. Sometimes, you miss a recital. Sometimes, you trade your daughter's soul to Asmodeus so your maybe-possessed wife and Hell-baby don't explode in a fireball of sin."
He paused....."I'm doing my best."
He sipped his coffee. He'd given up pretending otherwise. The mug said "#1 Dad," and the irony didn't even sting anymore.He looked at the family photo stuck to the fridge with a pizza magnet. The three of them smiling, Eliza glowing, Yvonne in a Halloween cop costume, Joel in a dumb dad sweater. Simpler times.
Happier times.
Times when his greatest fear was stepping on a Lego barefoot."It's not like I sacrificed her soul. Not really. I… relocated it.Temporarily." He nodded to himself, convinced.
The light above flickered.He thought "Old wiring."Ignoring the overwhelming presence of Hell leaking into his home like a gas leak from another dimension.
"But she'll never know," he muttered.
"This is an investment. She'll come out the other side stronger. She'll probably have superpowers. Or at least a cool backstory." "She'll grow up normal. Happy. Maybe a hot goth. So what? Everyone goes through a phase."
He leaned forward."I did it for you, you know. For your mom. For the baby. For all of us."
Yvonne blinked again. The exact same blink.
Too slow,too perfect, too… not real.Joel's smile faltered."Yvonne?" he said, voice small.No answer.He looked up again,and the chair was empty.
Just a pink plate. A single untouched nugget. A smear of ketchup where tiny fingers should have been.
The sound in his throat was between a laugh and a sob. He ran a hand down his face, his fingers trembling."She was just here," he whispered."She was…"The toaster burst into flames again.He didn't even notice.
Because outside the window, in the thick fog, a faint outline of a child watched him.
Not Yvonne, not anymore.