❝Debt collector❞

ᑕᕼᗩᑭTᗴᖇ 𝓣𝓗𝓡𝓔𝓔

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He began screaming obscenities again as he ran onto the top of the dune while I watched in pity as he hurled himself down its sands. His body rolled around in the sand like a rag doll tossed about. I could hear the sickening cracking sounds of his bones echo throughout the space as his body was being folded in unnatural angles by his own momentum.

Eventually, his broken body landed at my feet, the body laid there as his limbs were folded awkwardly.

His body was positioned on its belly with the head turned in a hundred and eighty degrees. His god damned fish eyes were staring straight at me.

I felt a knot build up in my stomach again; I was sure I would throw up again, I could literally feel the food rising up my esophagus.

"Bow to your god!" the body whispered.

It startled me.

A moment later I found myself sitting back at the bar, next to Beelzebul, shaking with fear as my mind was racing. Nothing made any sense to me anymore, at all. I looked at Beelzebul and the back of my head began throbbing as I was hit with a hammer across the head. My vision started blurring and my ears began ringing.

"I... I... I don't..." I managed to blurt out as I was trying to fight through my sudden headache.

"So, did your meeting with Little Sandals make you change your mind about the value of all human lives?" Beelzebul asked.

"I don't.... know..." I forced myself to respond weakly as my head felt as if it was about to blow up.

Beelzebul drank up all of his remaining beer and said, "Well, that's a shame because I already slaughtered that whole Syrian encampment."

As he said that, the pain in my head began subsiding and disturbing images began popping up in my mind. I've seen it.

I've seen it all.

The way he tore them apart...

The way he...

Ripped them to shreds....

I felt the tears...

I felt the tears streaming down my cheeks just like they do now... As I write this...

I can't get the image of him making a gun sign with his fingers, shoving it down a kneeling man's mouth and blowing up his skull...

Oh God...

Beelzebul was gone after that...

I heard that damned coin fall onto the wood.

I placed my head on my arms and began crying...

I couldn't stop...

I can't....

I can't....

He was gone...

But the guilt...

It's there...

It's all my fault...

All of this is my fault!

It's my fault I followed him there!

Everything is my fault!

Please pardon me, I am just a sorrowful drunk with a lot on her plate.

I know now that the Devil does not bargain for souls, he simply guilts their owners straight to hell where he can watch them suffer for as long as he wants them to.

I'll drink to the craftiness of this son of a gun.

Because surely,there has to be more to this little game he's playing

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