"I'm a demon! I'm a demon!" you shriek loudly as you panic and writhe. "Help, I don't want to be a demon! I am not bad! I don't want to go to Hell!" You keep howling things along these lines for a while, the darkest possible fear stealing away your rationality.
Your father storms into your room wearing his stained white underwear and a dirty housecoat that hangs open, switching the light on as he enters. A look of horror and disgust spreads over his face as he sees a demonic monstrosity in the place of his son. "Holy mother of...Laura, get my gun! Quick!"
You are gripped by fear as your father looks at you with murder and hatred in his eyes, and you know that this is the end. You are going to die. Sitting frozen helplessly in place, you watch the world flash before you as if it were stuck in slow-motion and at a poor frame-rate. You feel icy cold, and you might imagine that your body is going numb in anticipation of its own death. It's like your spirit is leaving your body to avoid being there when its host dies. The ice spreads throughout your gut.
Your mother presses the revolver into your father's hand, and he levels it at you, his finger deftly switching off the safety as he pulls the trigger to shoot. The weapon clicks uselessly as it jams. This is followed by him shaking it as he curses.