and i shouldn’t cry, but i love it. 001.
you’ve never really believed in a god. someone all powerful and all knowing, it sounded like a far out cry for structure and self reflection. no one wanted to live drenched in guilt and so they turn to their god for forgiveness. for a sense of security and rightness. so they didn’t have to wake up in the morning and feel disgusted at the choices they’ve made. to you, a god was like a moral compass, something to cope with. you’ve never found the need for one.
it was as if an angel had come down to personally show you proof of god. to show you the light and the pure. he was holy on his own account. obedient but never selfless, he did what he wanted despite the consequences he knew to follow. trying to describe him was difficult, there were no words perfect enough to embody him. he was his own definition and you finally started to believe in the divine.
you remember the first time you met him. the walls and floors were sterile white, the chemical smell never quite leaving no matter the hall you turned or the room you entered. the monotonous click of your heels echoed off the corridor walls, like a clock ticking down the time you had left to spend here. you turned the corner and suddenly he was there. you startled, nearly dropping your belongings as he moved to steady you.
“i’m terribly sorry, i—” the words were lost on you. you felt your heart skip a beat, a tug on your soul. ocean eyes stared at you. stared through you. you sucked in a breath and never let it go, like a switch was flipped in your subconscious. angel. you swore he had to be an angel. crisp white clothing not unlike your’s or anyone else’s, but they suited him. like this was all made for him, made after him. he smiled at you and that was all it took for him to infiltrate your mind. he’d moved into your thoughts and threw away the key to the entrance, never to leave.
that day, he’d walked past you, his image burned into your brain.
his aura was like your own personal brand of heroin. something you know to be forbidden, but too sweet to give up. you started seeing him more after that. his kind smiles as he past your open door. the glances he would spare you as you observed the many training sessions dr. brenner conducted with the children. it was like he knew where to find you at every waking moment. never to touch, but just to observe. he was balancing on the edge of your mind between reality and imagination. no one else seemed to notice him that much, but he was all you could ever see. like the ghost of a person long since past. you were growing restless.
this kind eyed man became a regular part of your day. and despite his overwhelming presence, you couldn’t find it within yourself to complain.
“let me help you with that.”
goosebumps. you were sure someone turned down the temperature as a chill racked your body. you looked up and he was there, standing above you, the fluorescent lights shining through his golden hair as if to mimic a halo. sweet like honey, his voice poured itself into your ears, flooding your brain. he’d never spoken to you before. in fact, you’ve never heard him speak. you thought yourself to be crazy, and yet here he was, lowering himself to sit beside you to help you gather up the strewn puzzle pieces.
you were staring, you knew you were. he was beautiful up this close, not a flaw in sight. he was living and breathing and yet you were convinced he was otherworldly, not from this place. and when he looked up at you with a knowing smile, the depth in eyes viewing your soul, you were sinking. you were drowning with no one in sight to help, no one to pull you up except the very person that was pushing you under the surface.
for him, you thought, for him you would be fine with suffocating.
since those first couple words he’d spoken to you, he never vanished, instead he became closer. conversations waking through the halls when you crossed paths was the highlight of your day. he was brilliant, smart, always coming to you with something intriguing to keep your mind turning. he’d speak of god regularly. you thought that maybe he had been religious, and in a place like this you didn’t blame him, but there was something different about it. never did he mention god with a sense of worship or gratefulness, like he was a saviour. god to him was not god. it was like he spoke of an old friend, someone he knew. someone he knew really well. you chalked it up to him grasping onto a small piece of hope for himself.
you could never escape him and you found that somewhere along the way you’d started to love him.
he became your own figure of hope. his ideas and his morals shifted your own. you yearned to hear him speak and to see his passion. his eyes sparked with a burning fire whenever you were attentively listening to what he had to say, like you’d believe his every word. you were lost, and then found again. he stood on the pedestal of your mind. you wanted, needed his approval. he held your world in his hands. all powerful, all knowing. all seeing.
you came to him one day, hysterical. you had zoned out during your work, imagining a better life outside of this place. there was moment, where the pen in your hand called to the artery of a guards neck. you had wanted to kill him. all of them. you wanted them all to drop dead so you could leave. you felt dirty with the thought and immediately dropped the pen. you rushed to him with shaky hands and quickened breaths. he didn’t seem bothered when you spilled your guts and opened up your brain for his judgment. he held your hands in his own and gave an understanding smile as you explained your ever so sinful thoughts. you failed to notice the twinkle in his eyes, his pleasure as your pretty little mind became unknowingly corrupted with his own. he’d granted you forgiveness and held you until your tears dried.
the night he slipped into your room came two weeks later. you were in bed, your nightgown a pathetic attempt at covering up properly with its flowing and sheer material. you had a small lamp on in the corner of your desk and it lit up the room with a small glow. you were reading when he came in. it happened all too fast for you to protest, and suddenly you were faced with him in your space. his eyes followed you. he watched as you stood up to place the book on your desk. he watched as you turned to stand in front of him. composed as ever, he lifted a hand to grasp the bottom of your chin.
there was no question as you lowered to your knees. it felt right, to see him above you. he deserved to be there. deserved to be worshiped for the angel he was. the god he was. he snapped the halo above your head and lowered a rosary made from his own flesh and blood onto your shoulders. his divine being choked around your neck, pulled tight until you had no choice but to let it consume you whole. to let him bleed into your brain until it swelled, thoughts consistent with him.
you smiled up at him and he grinned back down. he’d snapped the thin rope of sanity holding you present on this earth. he’d broken your tether to the ground. he had you suspended on the cross for him. a sacrifice for the greater good. his little follower.
and that same night, when the alarms blared and the screams echoed in your ears. the blood splattered on the walls reminding you of your own state of mind. that same night, you found him surrounded by bodies. your heart was caught in your throat, a lump you couldn’t shove down no matter how hard you tried. it was carnage. twisted and shattered bones, hollow eyes that stared at you no matter where you turned.
and him. crisp shirt covered with crimson. his eyes burning. he gave you a wicked smile and beckoned you to him. he grabbed the sides of your head, the pressure pounding against your skull. you avoided his gaze, eyes casted down as if to avoid the truth of it all. his bloodied hands were wet against your skin as he wiped at your cheeks, mixing it with the tears that poured from your guilt.
“look at me. look and see your saviour.”
and you when looked in his eyes, his beautiful eyes now turned grey, you wished for a god. because the devil was certainly real.
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