𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐒𝐲𝐧┃𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐓𝐰𝐨

149. 𝑌𝑜𝑢'𝑟𝑒 𝑃𝑎𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑡𝑖𝑐

Syn

I'm so fucked up.

My steps stagger as I walk into the gravel pavement of the forested garden at the back of the palace. I can hardly see where I'm stepping because of the dark area, or because I'm drunk as shit...it doesn't matter.

Another swig of the bottle makes me take a misstep and I stumble over something but catch myself on the bench of the garden. With a groan, I pull myself up and take a seat on the bench.

Where did you fuck up, Syn?

I died.

Dying to save Queen and Xavia would never be something I regretted. I'd do it a thousand times over if I had to. What I do regret though...rather, a small part of me, regrets coming back.

Everyone has moved on without me. They've all lived their lives and were doing what made them happy and I just came back and fucked up their world like a bulldozer. Every single thing I have been involved in since I've been back has gone to complete shit.

I'm not one to dwell in my own problems, but here I am. Spilling my deepest and inner thoughts to myself in an empty forest. How fucking pathetic am I? Throwing my little pity party with no guests other than my miserable ass.

"King of fucking hell..." I mutter. There is nothing funny about the words except how ridiculous they seem in this situation. I'm in no way, shape, or form a "king" in any regard.

Not anymore.

I used to be a lot stronger than I am right now. The past version of myself always knew what to do. Even if it was wrong, I didn't have to deal with the guilt of having consequences. I didn't truly understand the gift of feeling nothing until I was sitting right here.

"So this is what Hell is up to?" I hear a deep voice speak.

I look up and blink away my blurry vision to see a man dressed in white. As my sight focused, a scowl appeared on my face. "Of fucking course you choose to come here now."

"How easy it would be to invade your realm right now," he spoke. "What better time is there than when the leader is intoxicated on the sins of the world?"

"Sins of the world?" I scoff. "Do you ever take a break from this persona of yours? Or have the praises of the masses gotten to your head?"

"Son—"

"Don't call me that," I seethe.

"Right," he nods. "Technically you'd be my grandson wouldn't you?"

"I'm not your anything."

"Where do you get such hate for me?" He questions calmly. "Did Lucifer teach you to despise me?"

"I would've despised you with or without his insistence," I admit as bile rises in my throat. I always share my hatred for him, but as he sits here in front of me, I can indeed confirm that he is as suffocating as I tell everyone.

"I do wish that weren't the case," he sighs.

"You're God." I roll my eyes. "I'm sure if you wanted to, you could snap your fingers and make us all sing prayers around a campfire."