The sledgehammer feels warm in my hands.
Aron told me to wait outside while he "teleports" into the house and cuts all the telephone lines.
Suddenly, the front door opens and Aron invites me in, making sure to hold the door for me.
"She's sleeping. So, let's do our best to MAKE AS MUCH NOISE AS POSSIBLE!" He laughs at his random shouting.
Something about his laughter makes me laugh, too. He doesn't come off as a laughing guy or demon, but he laughs like he is really amused with himself. However his laughter never quite fits the situation. It's almost like he's laughing at an inside joke.
I immediately stomp into the living room and slam the sledgehammer deep into the wall. The loud sound fuels my desire to do it again, and again, and again. I then set my sights on the 46,000 dollar redwood coffee table with jewels encrusted in the table legs. I smash it until the wood splinters all over the cobblestone floor. This destruction... it feels good. All this pent up rage is finally being expressed to its fullest.
I'm in control now, mother. You don't own me, you can't tell me what to do, and you can't get rid of me!
"Is that the best you can do? C'mon, Trish. I know you can do better than that. Do you want me to help you?" Aron is obviously taunting me. It's only adding fuel to the fire.
"Shut up! If you want to help, go burn the Bible study. It's all the way to the end of the hallway. Demons burn bible's, right?" I say.
"I like this side of you. It's more productive than the pathetic sad side of you. By the way, where do you keep the matches?"
"Kitchen, on your left. Check all the drawers until you find it." I shoo him away so I can vandalize in peace.
I pull the TV off the wall and let it fall. Then, I smash it to pieces. The curtains get yanked down so hard, I break a few nails. The adrenaline is thrilling and addicting. No way am I getting off this type of emotional high!
Next, I run upstairs to where the hallways are lined up with paintings and photographs. Some of me, some of mom, some of dad, and some with all of us together with smiles on our faces. A stranger could look at these photos and not even notice how all of them are tilted. The memories upset me, so I smash through it all without sparing a single painted face.
"You! You think you can steal from my house? Get out before I call the fucking police!"
Hearing her voice is enough to make me throw the sledgehammer at her. Unfortunately, she moved out the way.
"Damn it. I missed." I hiss.
She recognizes my voice. "Patricia? Is that you? Trying to steal from your own mother? How pathetic. Only you would stoop so low. If it's money you want, I guess I can loan you a few hundred thousand...as long as I never see your face again. You disgust me! Actually, no. I think I will call the police."
Suddenly, I notice Aron standing right behind her. His hands are casually placed in his jacket pockets and his ice blue eyes are cold, yet filled with amusement. "So, you're the infamous Mommy Dearest. I've had the misfortune of hearing all about you. You know, self righteous women like you make me sick. Preaching the scripture on Sunday, leaving their child on the streets by Monday. The hypocrisy is unbelievable."
Mother turns around and faces him. "Who the hell are you?"
"Some call me Aron. My friends call me Amon. However, most know me as Satan. Did I mention how lovely your home is Mrs. Anderson? The fire I started in the Bible study really makes the house... glow." He laughs at his own joke.
"Satan?" I ask not sure if he's serious or not.
"Patricia! I want you and your psychotic friend out of my house! Who knew abortion was the right choice back then?"
Why can't the witch just shut up? I hate her, I despise her, and I loath her.
He sniffs the air and smiles. "Hatred. Wrath and Hatred. I knew I hit the jackpot with you... Trish."
"I'm calling the police. I do too much for you. I'm done. Stay right there." With that, Mother Dearest pushes past Aron, to which Aron widens his eyes and grins.
"I feel so frustrated..." I admit. "...but I don't know what to do. I thought coming here and letting my anger out would make me feel better. But, I only feel like crap. Listen, Aron, or Amon, or fucking Satan. I'm done. She wins... again. I committed a felony. The house is burning down. Maybe I should just kill myself. There is nothing left to do. I'm nothing. You gonna take my soul to Hell?"
Aron furrows his eyebrows. His smile long gone. I've never seen him look so serious. Well, I have... like once.
"Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. You're stronger than this, Patricia. Remember how I said I like you? Well, as ridiculous as that seems, it's true. Me? I'm nothing but a sinner. Hell, I am literally a living, breathing sin. But, obviously I'm lying to you. No way a Deadly Sin can possibly have feelings for a cute yet troubled girl, like yourself. You're smart, you know I only want your anger. Right? Wrong. We are so alike. We throw some pretty outrageous temper tantrums sometimes. And if you really feel that alone... then don't. You've got me. I'm not going anywhere."
As much as I want to believe those words, I have my doubts. I've done some pretty stupid things today. I know I have. I chose that. Now, he's telling me... he what? Loves me or whatever? I almost laughed when he told he liked me the first time. Besides, I'm not starting a relationship with Satan. How ridiculous does that sound? I'll take my chances in Hell. It's a shame, though. The body he possessed is my type of guy, but that guy is locked away while his body is being used as a vessel.
"You're worried about the body I chose? He's a good looking guy, right? Well, why do think I chose him? He had a girlfriend. Cute girl. She loved to tick him off. She thought she had the power since he couldn't hit her, but people can only take so much until they finally snap. All that built up rage. It was delicious. He punched her... and he didn't stop."
I'm taken aback by the story. I must look scared right now because he's trying to calm me down.
"Trish, baby. She deserved it. She was the equivalent of your mom. Are you gonna let her win? Are you really sure you've got the dedication, the guts... to actually end your own life? Maybe. But, you have a chance to go out in style. That bitch never loved you. She hated you since you first came out the womb and you had no choice but to sit there and take it. To sit down and suffer. She even killed your faith." He disappears before my eyes, but I can feel his hot breath behind me. He tightly grips my shoulders as he leans in real close to my ear. "No one cares about you except me. I only want what's best for you and I'm doing it the only way I know how. Through sin. I say we just kill the witch. Why not? Give me a good reason why you shouldn't."
I think. For once, I truly think. No matter the excuses or the loopholes, I'd be a murderer. There would be no escaping that. Is is worth it? Maybe. I'm killing myself either way. That's what she wants. But, if she dies too, it would be the only way to cause her pain and suffering. She has to know how feel. She... she deserves to know how I feel. Me! It's never about me or what's best for me or what I need! The nicest thing she ever did for me is remember Christmas and my birthday.
"And how does that make you feel, darling?" He whispers.
"Don't act like you don't already know."
"That's my girl." I look over my shoulder and when I do, he kisses me. It's short and sweet, but a huge surprise. I can feel my cheeks heat up. I feel my heartbeat pound faster. I ignore it for the moment. I'm too angry to process that kiss. All I can think about is watching that witch of a woman bleed.
I walk over to where the sledgehammer lay on the floor and I pick it up. I'm about to make my way into my mom's room, but a voice in my head stops me in my tracks.
You have a choice, Patricia. Don't do this. Killing is never the answer. Let's say you do kill her. Now you're a murderer. Killers don't go the Heaven, sweetie.
Who are you?
Your friend from above. My name is Azreal. A guardian. An angel. Please, don't make me have to physically come down and talk to you face to face. I would rather not have to be in any conflict with my rival.
"Fuck off, Azrael. Don't try to control her. Let her do what she wants to do." Amon, I decide I like the name Amon better than Satan, obviously knows this angel in my head.
Amon. I couldn't stop your vessel from killing his girlfriend. I won't let you trick this girl into making the same mistake. Patricia, don't listen to him anymore. All he's good for is fanning the fire and deepening the wounds. All you're doing is feeding is power. He's a leach, sucking the anger and good out of you. Nothing he told is is true. You know that.
"Maybe, you'd have some credibility if you angels weren't such cowards." His voice is broken, only traces of a human voice is left. The sound is frightening yet persuading. "Leave her alone. NOW!"
The windows shatter and the house begins to shake as if there was an earthquake. I know better. This is no earthquake. This is Wrath loosing his patience.
You see that, Patricia? Like you said, he's lost his patience. Then again, he never had any patience anyway. He's always wrathful and he always will be. He talks a good game. He even said he likes you. Do you believe that?
....
....
"Barely." I admit.
The rumbling and shaking stops as fast as it started.
"Trish. Patricia. I didn't have to say that stuff about liking you. I could have used you and left. I'm still here. Doesn't that mean something?" His voice is back to being soft and smooth.
It would mean something... if he had a heart. If he wasn't a demon. If he wasn't pure evil. If he cared at all.
"You know what, Patricia? I think you shouldn't let her stop you from doing what you want. I'm not gonna sit here and argue with an angel who waits until the last minute to give you any guidance. You see, even angels lie. She said killers don't go to heaven. She's making it seem like you have a chance. She knows damn well that you aren't on their list. Heaven doesn't want you. Just know that. I know you. I'm your friend. That's all I'm gonna say." Amon shrugs and leans against the wall. He looks... upset. He pulls out his phone and occupies himself.
I really take what both had to say into consideration. The angel is logically correct. I know that. Though, Amon is probably being truthful about two things. I'm not going to Heaven is the first one. The fact that Azrael waits until now to guide me is the second one. Does she only care because she doesn't want Amon to win again? Or will dropping the weapon really provide a happy afterlife? I have no idea.
I understand your skepticism towards me. You should have equal skepticism towards both of us. But, since you two want credibility. I'll provide such. I'm one of the Seven Heavenly Virtues. I am Patience. You don't need anger and hatred. You need patience. It's quite simple. Don't let life's struggle get you upset. Life is a test. Demons like Amon are the nothing but a test. He wants you to fail.
I look at Amon and even though his eyes are on his phone, his jaw clenches tightly. His eyes are red. His hand is balled up in a fist. A red-ish mist radiates from all around him. "I swear, if you don't take that sledgehammer and stick it deep in your mother's skull, I'LL HAVE THIS WHOLE HOUSE COLLAPSE ON ITSELF!
Collapse? Everyone in this house would die except for him. I would die. That proves it. He doesn't care at all about me. Once again, I shouldn't be that surprised. I think I'm done here.
I drop the sledgehammer on the floor and start making my way down the stairs.
"What? WHAT? That's it? Really, Trish?" At least the human voice facade is gone.
"My name is not Trish. Your words are as empty and hallow as your vessel. I've made you strong enough. You can live without the final dosage." I keep on walking, never stopping to look back.
An ear shattering roar.
Debris falling down.
Objects are flying around.
The floor cracks and splits open.
I'm tumbling down the stairs. It's a long staircase. Too long.
I don't know when I stopped tumbling. But, I'm soar all over. The lights are flickering frantically. That's when I look up and see Amon levitated from the ground. He looks down at me with red eyes; blood trickling down his face. Then, he looks at the ceiling above me. Nervously, I slowly follow his gaze and notice I'm laying right under the chandelier. It's the biggest one in the house.
"Patience. You have patience now? Good. Have the patience to die, you self-loathing mortal." He lets out another screech of deep rage.
Just as the chandelier starts to fall, a blinding light engulf everything in sight.
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