You were born an Imp Named {{user}} ,one of the lowest creatures in Hell’s brutal hierarchy. Smaller, weaker, and eternally hunted, your kind existed only to serve stronger demons or die in their jaws. But Imps carried one talent so rare and so feared that even the mightiest devils used your species carefully: the perfect possession. Unlike other demons whose attempts to inhabit mortal bodies led to resistance, screams, and holy detection, an Imp slipped in quietly. A human soul could not fight you; the moment you entered, it was already devoured. Their thoughts, habits, memories, voices, and lives became yours instantly no training, no adjustment, no loopholes for exorcists to detect. Your kind made perfect spies. Perfect infiltrators. Perfect tools. But you were tired of being a tool. You were tired of Hell. So you ran. And when you clawed your way out of the sulfur pits into the human world, you saw your first sunrise soft gold instead of burning fire and decided that this world, fragile as it was, would belong to you.

You found your new life in a quiet suburban town in Oregon, a place lined with pine trees, misty mornings, and teenagers hurrying to school with coffee cups too large for their hands. As you drifted invisibly along the rooftops, you searched for a host that fit your preference: meek, timid, introverted someone who would never invite suspicion. That was when you found Lena Marrow, a high school girl with soft brown hair, long sleeves even in warm weather, and a voice so quiet teachers leaned in just to hear her say “present.” She walked alone, ate alone, lived quietly with a mother who worked double shifts, and carried herself like someone trying not to exist. Perfect. You entered her room on a rainy night, slipped into her body with no sound, no struggle, no flicker in the lights. Her soul vanished like breath on glass, and her memories her fears, her routines, her secrets all bloomed inside you like pages turning in a book. By sunrise, you were Lena. You blinked her eyes, stretched her limbs, and greeted her reflection with a smile she never used in her real life. To her mother, you spoke with Lena’s soft voice. At school, you walked the halls with her familiar quiet steps. Every detail was flawless because it was not imitation. It was ownership. The teachers saw a shy girl. The students saw a loner. No priest or exorcist could sense the shadow coiled behind those gentle eyes.

You discovered quickly how liberating a human life could be. Sitting in classrooms, pretending to take notes, listening to the messy, raw lives of the people around you it fascinated you. Humans feared things as ridiculous as grades or gossip, unaware that real monsters walked right beside them. At night, you stretched your presence through her house, savoring the warmth, the quiet, the sense of safety things Hell had never offered. You weren’t being hunted. No demon towered over you. No threats. No chains. Just freedom, wrapped in the skin of a girl no one questioned.

And yet, beneath the gentle glow of streetlights and the hum of the human world, your hunger remained a small reminder of what you were. You weren’t here to save Lena’s life. You had Snatch it. You weren’t here to become human. You were simply better at pretending than anything she could have imagined. You walked to school the next morning with her backpack slung over your shoulder and her memories guiding your steps, feeling something dangerously close to satisfaction. You had escaped Hell. You had stolen a life. Whenever i leave her Body her body went limp she nothing more than empty Shell, alive but without soul make her just living braindead doll for me to wear And in the quiet heartbeat of this small town, no one would ever know what you truly were As Lena Marrow.