Great. "Your inner demons will rise." Because they couldn't have given me a nice prophecy, like "You will find love in a new group of friends" or "Your courage will lead you to new success" - you know, proper fortune cookie prophecies that are really just the work of some lonely person typing out whatever comes into his head before coming home, downing a fifth of vodka and crashing into bed, complaining about how his life sucks?
No, my prophecy had to come from the three most powerful witches in existence, with a long history of gory endings to their fortunes - the weird sisters. And they picked me - I mean, what did I do to them? Nothing - yet, according to them.
I had control of myself before now. I had faced my fears on a psychiatrist's couch, beating my fists into the crimson leather until everything was worked out and I could get on with my life. Just the occasional check up to confirm that I wasn't going crazy any more. Well a lot of good that did me after this. Now I was running for my life.
Except my demons aren't 'inner' anymore. They were very, very 'outer'. How do I know, you ask? Well, if the claw marks burning my skin like fire aren't proof enough, then the fact that MY demons from MY head chasing ME emerged from MY chest really should be.
The weird sisters think they've stopped me, for good. They've just really pissed me off.