I Raised the Devil’s Daughter
You know those stories where a woman walks into the bar, meets a stunning man and gets pregnant, then finds out she’s bearing the offspring of Lucifer? Well, this is not one of those. My mother had me at a young age so, by the time I was 16, she was 38 and recently married. I never met my good-for-nothing father and her husband was totally okay. I mean, he was a savorless person, but mom loved him dearly and he never was anything but respectful to me, so it’s all good. He gave us the best thing of our lives: Little Tom. Little Tom was born when I was 18. I decided to go to college in the same city, so I could still live with my mom and help raise him. By the moment I met Little Tom, I was crazy about him. He was a sweet boy with big, beautiful eyes. You know how some babies are born all wrinkled and weird? He didn’t. He was perfect from the start. During my college years, we spent almost all my free time together. I felt like he was my own son, but only with the good parts, what made me love him even more. At age 23, my life was great. I got an amazing job in my field right out of college and was able to live in my own apartment. Mom and Little Tom would come over at least three times a week, and I’d buy him all the toys, cute clothes and Chicken McNuggets he wanted. Spoiling my precious boy was the thing that made me happier in the world. Ever since Little Tom was born, I had never left the city because I couldn’t stand the idea of spending more than three days without seeing my baby brother. But, not long after I got my dream job, they asked me to attend a conference in another state for five days. I told mom and she said I was being silly and Little Tom would be just fine without me. In five days I would only miss one visit. She said he could sleep at my place the next time so we would watch cartoons together for hours and make up for the lost time. I went on my business trip and tried not to suffer much. He was like a rainbow, bringing joy and light for just being there. But I could handle mere five days without my sunshine in a rainy day. I was back by Saturday morning and, just two hours after, mom and Little Tom were at my place. While she cooked for us, Little Tom and I watched TV on the couch. He looked a little apathetic and pale. I put my hand over his forehead and found out he was feverish. “Baby, you’re feeling good?”, I asked, feeling invisible hands squeezing my heart. “My head is tired and heavy, sis,” he replied, sluggishly. He seemed weak and slow-motioned. Mom heard us talking and came from the kitchen. “It’s okay, Christie. He’s a little under the weather. I think it’s a light cold.” “I’ll take him to the hospital just in case, mom,” I replied, already grabbing my car keys. I had a great health insurance and paid extra to include him in my coverage. She laughed. “It’s cute that you worry so much, Chris. But it happens a lot with little kids. You had the flu all the time when you were younger. It’s just a matter of resting a lot and eating something warm and nutritious.” “Well, better safe than sorry.” I said, and picked Little Tom up, carrying him in my arms. “Let’s go, baby. I’ll buy you that Lego set you wanted when we’re back if you’re a good boy.” I didn’t have to say it as a form of manipulation, because Little Tom was always a good boy. I just wanted to reward him for having to see a doctor and make exams with such short notice. I’ve never seen my baby brother sick, so I was terribly worried. Turns out I was right to be. After a few hours, a doctor went talk to me. “We are investigating what his problem is, Miss. But the results of his blood analysis were bad. We will need to keep your brother here, under observation”. If I think I was devastated in that moment, I should wait to see how I felt when week after week my baby brother lost weight and had more and more tubes on him. At first he could feebly talk, then he lost consciousness. This beautiful kid, with a whole future ahead of him, was fading. Devastated doesn’t even begin to describe how I felt. I started to make mistakes at my work, and was really lucky to have a very understanding manager, who was mother of two, one of which was born with a rare congenital disease. I think anyone else would have had fired me. The doctors still couldn’t figure out what he had. This mysterious disease made Little Tom weak and feverish – which are symptoms to literally every disease ever – but to an unbelievable extent. One night, my best friend Simone decided to treat me to dinner in a little Italian place, my favorite cuisine. I tried to decline her sweet offer, but my mother insisted there was nothing I could do and I had to distract myself from the sadness and despair; she couldn’t take having me sick too. With this compelling argument, I went out to have dinner. The antipasti were delicious, but I was still quite the nervous wreck, so I excused myself to smoke outside. It was a habit that I’ve picked up since Little Tom was admitted to the hospital. Terrible habit. It was snowing outside and it was extremely rude to my best (and honestly only) friend, but I couldn’t help it. I tried three times to light my cigarette, but the lighter just wouldn’t work. Defeated, I was almost heading back inside, when I saw it was lit. By my side, stood an older, respectable-looking man; looks are deceiving as hell, aren’t they? He was dressed in a totally normal way, wrapped up in a common long black coat, normal pants and shoes, and wearing a gray wool cap. “Oh, thank you.” I glanced him real quickly and then my gaze wandered again, not paying attention to him at all. “Your baby brother is sick and you think he’s dying soon, right?” Despite the interrogative tone, he was 100% sure of this; he didn’t need confirmation. I immediately knew he wasn’t someone that knew me from the hospital, or a nice father who would recommend me a good doctor. The Devil appeared to me as a man in his mid-50s, with penetrating blue eyes; he was good looking, but in a paternal way. His face was a little chubby and his smile warm. I don’t know how I knew how he was. But his presence was unbearably strong, in a weirdly peaceful way. It’s like I knew he would solve my problems before he even spoke. When I finally looked at him with all my attention, I noticed he had a velvety burgundy blanked in his arms, and held it like you hold a baby. “Yes, Christie. It’s a baby,” he said, very matter-of-factly, showing me a tiny girl that couldn’t be more than a few weeks old. I just looked at him expectantly. “I see you already know who I am, so here’s the deal. I can bring your brother back to perfect health. No tricks or obscurities here. He will be totally cured from any disease or whatever he has, will live a long and great life and nothing’s gonna harm him. You really got a sale today, lady. The only thing you’ll need to do in exchange for your deepest desire is take care of my daughter here”. He was polite and insanely charismatic. I couldn’t even think or talk out of turn. I just wanted to listen to him. And he proceeded: “See, this woman made a terrible mistake. She thought she found a breach on our contract. That she could only bear and birth my child, then abandon her to die on a snowy night. And after all the payment in advance I gave her…” He looked almost tired. “Anyway, I’m nothing but reasonable. I retrieved my daughter from the street, got her a blanket and paid her mother a visit. The woman still refused to take my child back, so I had to kill her. Now you can be really happy just because I think prolonged exposure to babies is a pain in the ass. So, Christie Abrams, will you save your brother and raise my daughter?” * * * * * * The whole interaction lasted less than 3 minutes. I finished my cigarette (he told me to, as I almost threw it away in the middle), and took the baby in my arms. He said “I’ll be watching you”, turned his back, started walking, and disappeared after two seconds. I entered the restaurant screaming that I’ve found a baby and really wanted to keep it. Simone told me we had to tell the police and have the baby checked, and the rest of the night was a blur. I may or may not have eaten pasta and drunken wine afterwards. All I know is, by the next day, the baby was declared totally healthy and I started the process of adoption. The Devil had killed the mother in a way that looked like suicide, and even wrote a note about leaving her baby in the snow to die. It didn’t take long for the police to connect the baby to the woman and, since she didn’t have any family, it was easy for me. I had a great job, no mental issues, no criminal record and perfect personal background; the baby had no family, so it was easy to get the provisional guardianship, and then the definitive just a while after. I named her Lucy, in honor to her father Lucifer. Little Tom’s health miraculously improved. In the same day I adopted Lucy, he was awake again. My precious brother was released from the hospital with a clean bill of health mere 6 days after that. For the first years, my life was joyful. I would never love anyone or anything nearly half as much as I loved Little Tom, but I learned to love my daughter Lucy in the blink of an eye. She was a smart, beautiful and healthy baby, and I couldn’t ask for more. The fact that Satan was her father was just a detail; he was very gentle to me, so I did my best to raise his girl to be gentle as well. I thought I was doing fine until her kindergarten school caught fire out of the blue and half the kids there died. And she was laughing. She laughed the whole way back home. I had a glimmer of hope that somehow the arson was unrelated to her, and she was laughing because she was only 4 and too young to understand what just happened. But the next day, her father showed up at my workplace. This time, the Devil appeared to me as a handsome, very well-dressed young man. All my co-workers were impressed. He politely asked my manager if he could steal me 15 minutes earlier to have lunch with him, and, like everyone else, she was hypnotized. She told us to take all the time we need. As we walked down the street, he said “Well, you’re welcome for me making you look good.” I laughed. He wasn’t sexually appealing to me, but damn, he was incredibly charming. I found my mouth thanking him wholeheartedly before I could even think. As we sat in a fancy restaurant, he was straightforward: “Yes, it was Lucy that killed all the people. Yes, you still have to keep her. No, she will never ever touch your brother.” I was horrified, but relieved for Little Tom. Since I work and my mom is a stay-at-home-mother, they spend the most time of weekdays together. * * * * * * I’ve honestly lost track of how many people Lucy had killed. I’ve become cold and insensitive. Other people’s lives don’t matter much to me anymore. I would never personally kill someone, but I have covered my daughter’s tracks time after time. I have tampered with crime scenes. Hell, I have even lured some of their victims to their death. And today, she’s only 13. She still has a long way of evil deeds and murders to go. I’m sorry about that, but Little Tom’s life is worth more than anything to me. Having to raise a literal devil and let her kill every random person she wants is a price I’m willing to pay for him. That’s why I know you all gonna understand what will happen next. You see, today the Devil showed up again. This time, he looked like a stunning woman, and was laughing with a gusto I’ve never seen anyone before. “Christie, Christie… you’re raising my daughter so well I even felt guilty about my little prank.” “Little… prank?” “You see… I just really wanted someone to keep my child. Your brother wasn’t dying, because he can’t. He is my son, too.” “He… what? Little Tom is…? But how…?” “No, Christie, I’m not your stepfather. The Devil has too many faces. One of them happened to be a nurse who exchanged the babies. And your mother knew. She promised to raise a child of mine when I cured you a long time ago. If you’re wondering, your illness was the real deal.” That’s why Little Tom was so captivating. So charismatic. Like the Devil. Oh my god. “The fever and weakness is the awakening of their powers. He hasn’t used them much since that day, but as we speak Tom and Lucy are sacrificing your mother to increase their strength. Don’t worry, she has accepted it. She thinks it’s atonement.” He laughed again. I was in shock, with big tears streaming down my face. Everything was my fault. I couldn’t speak, and he knew it. He wasn’t even mocking me, he just thinks humans self-destructing is really funny. He savored the moment. It was nothing personal. “Come on, Christie. At least I was true to my words; Lucy would never hurt your brother. I just forgot to mention that it was because he is one of us.” All my life is based on a lie. Literally everyone I love is a demon child or an accomplice. I have never married or had a personal life other than having a single friend because I was taking care of Little Tom and Lucy. I have nothing. My prospect of future is having even more innocent blood on my hands. I just want to let you know that, no matter how tempted you are, and no matter how good is the offer, you should never make a deal with the devil. Will you promise me? If you do, I will at least feel some relief when I hang myself alone in my apartment tonight. Credit: Thamires Luppi (a.k.a. Polonium Poisoning) Copyright Statement: Unless explicitly stated, all stories published on Creepypasta.com are the property of (and under copyright to) their respective authors, and may not be narrated or performed under any circumstance.