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The Demon Child Novel Cover

The Demon Child

A routine movie outing transforms into a harrowing mystery in The Demon Child. When a disruptive boy kicks his seat and stabs him in the neck with a sewing needle, the protagonist is met with the mother’s callous laughter instead of an apology. She dismisses the assault as a harmless prank, but the situation escalates into a horror scenario. Chaos erupts as he reveals the needle’s dark origin: it is contaminated medical waste from a hospital patient. This modern action tale explores the lethal consequences of a single malicious act.
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Chapter 3

“My son is still a minor, you can’t detain him!”

Mary struggled. Charlie was crying from fear. Snot and tears dripped down his face.

They no longer looked as smug as they did before.

I followed the police.

When I passed by Mary and Charlie, I stopped.

I whispered in Mary’s ear softly, “Just pray that it’s just red ink.

“Otherwise, I’ll make sure you spend the rest of your life in prison.”

Mary looked up and glared at me.

“Just you wait, my husband is coming!

“Once he’s here, you’ll be begging for a mediation!”

I smirked and grimaced.

“Mediation? If this needle isn’t poisonous, I’ll eat my words up.

“However, if it’s infected, no one will be able to save you.”

I held my hand against my neck and strode out of the hall.

The sun was very bright outside, but I felt cold.

It was a bone-chilling feeling.

An ambulance was already waiting at the entrance.

Someone helped me into the ambulance, and the paramedic started to treat my wound.

I felt a little more awake after smelling the antiseptic.

However, I could only think about that needle, that unique blue mark, and that dark red liquid.

Mary had sounded very confident when she mentioned her husband.

If I recalled correctly, Greg would be the CEO of Kind Hospital, the biggest hospital chain in the city.

Greg’s son held a special puncture needle.

Greg’s wife was making a scene in a cinema.

I was afraid the incident would not be as simple as just a child acting up.

What secret did that needle hold?

A scary thought appeared in my mind.

Maybe I had truly been infected, but it was not AIDS.

It could be something even worse than AIDS.

The mediation room at the police station felt really tense.

My neck was wrapped in bandages as I held the preliminary medical report.

The wound was not deep, but the treatment had to be stopped.

The doctor said that the critical window would be 72 hours.

It would be life or death for me.

Mary was sitting opposite me with her legs crossed. She looked impatient.

Charlie was sitting next to her and drinking milk that the police had given him.

He was sucking the straw loudly as he looked at me tauntingly.

It was as if nothing had happened earlier.

“Alright, don’t act like you’re dead.”

Mary slammed her bag on the table. It was a limited-edition Hermes bag.

“Don’t you just want money? Name your price.

“Fifty thousand dollars, is that enough?

“Take the money and sign this mediation agreement. We’ll let this go.”

She took out her check book and hovered her pen over it. She looked disgusted, as if she was talking to a beggar.

I looked at her and did not say a word.

However, I was gripping the report very tightly.

“Too little? A hundred thousand then.

“Young man, don’t get too greedy.

“A hundred thousand dollars is basically an annual wage.

“Take the money and buy some supplements. Otherwise, I’m afraid you’ll go crazy.”

She snorted and wrote a string of numbers.

She tore the check and tossed it at me.

The check fell onto my shoe.

I did not move. I just stared at that piece of paper silently.

“I don’t need money.”

I finally said with a hoarse voice.

“I just want the truth.

“Where did that needle come from?

“What’s on it?”

Mary’s expression changed before she became even more smug.

“That’s none of your business! I’ve already told you it’s just a toy that I simply bought!”

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