Suicide Killed The Body, Not The Soul

Pride (22)

"You got it?" I asked.

Dawson nodded and I was surprised that there was no snarky remark to follow. He stood there for a moment and I continued to lay on the ground, my chest rising and falling with each hyperventilating  breath I took. 

"You okay?" Dawson said.

I nodded this time and lifted myself from the floor.

"Where are the other keys?"

"Right here," He said pointing to his pocket as he dropped the white key in. "Three down, one more to go."

"Pestilence."

"Pestilence."

"Where do we go from here?" I said. "The door?"

"I assume it isn't locked anymore, we can probably move on now."

"Fantastic," I said with the upmost weak voice anyone could ever imagine. "Can I ask you something kind of unrelated to the subject?"

"Sure."

"Well, I've been wondering.... Steve broke his arm while he was in there... it doesn't seem to be affecting you much."

"Probably because I can't feel it," Dawson answered.

"Wait.... what?" I said. "But you're in a human body.... nerves.... anything?"

"Well, sure I 'feel' pain, but not really in the same grueling way as you feel it. Since I am sort of a foreign substance, a virus per say , invading this vessel, I don't get affected by its pains as much."

"Huh.... you learn something new everyday..." I mumbled. 

"Are we done with twenty questions now? Can we please go?" Dawson asked, impatiently gesturing to the door.

"Do you know what's gonna be in there?"

He shook his head and I hesitated.

"Come on, persevere!"

"I think my perseverance level has run low," I responded. 

He tapped his foot on the chessboard.

I rolled my eyes, "Fine. Let's go."

We walked over to the door and Dawson grabbed onto the brass nob. The bruise from the break Steve had endured was a dark shade of purple climbing up his arm, but Dawson didn't wince once. 

He turned the nob slightly, but the door stuck and he had to push it with his shoulder.

"Oh, well, I guess it's still locked... darn..." I said casually.

"Don't be such a wimp," Dawson said knocking into it again.

The third time was the charm and the door slid open with ease. 

I peered inside first, out of the corner of the door, until Dawson roughly pushed my back so that I fell into the room.

"Ouch!" I said louder than the fall had actually felt.

"You'll get over it."

I got up and brushed off my tattered tunic and looked around. 

I was in a grand church, much bigger than that of Sloth's, and more extravangant. It seemed more like a castle than a church and the inside was completely filled with candles varying in sizes and the sweet smell of flowers. Instead of a mural of Lucifer and Michael on the wall it was painted of another man and Michael, Michael losing of course. 

"I told you Pride was full of it," Dawson whispered in my ear.

"So this is the great Pride's house?"