The Cult of Devin

ACT ONE FINALE

Cutting through human meat isn't as easy as the movies make it out to be. Cutting through skin, cutting through fat, cutting through the muscle, it's hard if you are holding yourself back. But you will do it to make the ones you love happy. That's what Lacch learned. They learned that taking the knife, holding it, and forcing themselves to stab the only person they love. The only person that matters. The only person Lacch will ever need. This is what they had to do. They were shaking. They were scared. Their frame was beginning to be stained red. Tinted crimson with the blood of the one they loved. Red. Red. Red. All they saw was that accursed red.

"Emmit.. Emmit I can't do it anymore! Please.. Please I'm sorry.. I can't do any more!" They sobbed out, dropping the knife.

Emmit let out a wheezing breath, he was kneeled over, holding the stab wound on his side. His breathing was ragged. His breath smelled of iron from all the blood that had flowed into his mouth from the wounds on his face. He nodded.

"S-See? You did good.. this.. Agh.. This is why I love you. So fucking naive. Listening to my every plead like a sad puppy that just wants to please it's master.. I love this. The feeling... Y-you are weak under me. I am all powerful. You are mine. You do as I say. Now, pet, continue to be good for me and grab me the gasoline.." Emmit sputtered out, leaning against the wall.

Lacch, dejected and with their head down, slowly walked out of the apartment to do as they were told. Do as they were made to be.

Grab the gasoline

G̴r̴a̸b̴ ̵t̴h̴e̶ ̶g̵a̵s̵o̸l̴i̵n̷e̴

G̵̟̈͠r̶̡̫̻͒͒̉a̸̝͙̺͒̈́̓b̵̭̈̓̅ ̴̨͈͑̓̓t̵̙̅̏ḥ̴̟͇̆̒͘è̴̲̤̀ ̷͚̐g̶͇͉̀ḁ̵́̏̑s̸̭̀̐o̷͕͍̥̅͝͝l̷̘̫͂̔ì̸̢̫͠ṋ̶́e̷̳̯̠͊̍̓

Ǧ̵͇r̶̨̹̫̀̌̃̋̂̅Ă̶̢͍̮̣͈̫b̸̮̪̗͓͊́̑̊ ̵͓̞̟̭̈̀̈́̐͑̍̓͜t̵͎̠̦͙͎̘̭̎͒̌͊̇̃̈́͌̕̚ͅḢ̶̩̈́͌͌̿͐̌̊͠͠ę̵̞͍̯̯̺̟̥̮̀̋͌̅̓͐̚ ̸͕̻̈́͒g̵̲͓̯̫̳͎̘̩̱̫̓Ã̸͙̭͛̓̊̋s̶͙̯͓̬̘͇̭̏Ǒ̸̱̫̘̲̺̗̯̄̋̂̂̐̊̕͝l̶̡͈̻̬̗̥͚̑̑̓̆̔̊̇̐̈́͑͜i̵̢͉͈̰̠͙͐͗̾̅͒́̆͗͜N̶͙̗͙̅̋͜e̶̛̮͗͛͛̑̈̋̎

Ḡ̵̦̳͍͚̟͚͉̐̓̾͘͘̚͠ͅŕ̶̛̛̲̙̬̦̿̈́͒̊̆̚Ȃ̶͓̠̿̂̉̐̄̒b̶͙̳̗̙̼̝̞͔̰͇̻͌͒͌͝ ̴̨̧̧̭̗̫̱̗̩͈̟̤̣̣́͂̈́̓͝t̸̝͕͈̥̏Ḥ̶̢̙̠̟͖̩͆̌̿̍̉͒̉̈́̿̇͑̚̚͜͜͠͠ë̷̢̘̦͙̤͙̣͆̐̒̓̏͆͂͝ ̵̺̻̞͚̞̫͈͕̱͕͉̲̝̀̉͐͗͆͛̃̊͆͠͝g̶̢̤̥͔̮̲͇̜̥͚̭̉̎̈́A̸̧͔̯̞̥̼̠̙̪̐̎͆͂̽̓̀s̶̼̯̦̍̌̈́́O̷͍̿̔̓̒̀̇̍͋̀́l̴̨̢͚̲̖̈i̷̯̪̜͈̘̫͙̰̼͖̥͚̪̽͛͌̈́̀͜͝͝N̴̡̛̠͚͈̩̲͈̪̹͍͔̩͕͌̀̃̆̏̌͒̔̃͋̄͘͠ͅȩ̷̱̳̫̉͋̅

g̴̱̊̓̏͆̿̕͜͠R̸̛͔͓͗͂̇̇́̊͐̊̆̀̏̋̓̀̐͒̈͘͘̚͝͝͝A̸̢̼͙̭̻̩̹͖͉͙̐̑̑͐̀̂͑͛̂͆̀͂̊̾̔̀̒̍̿̔̽̅̚̕͝b̷̹̜͍̯̤͎̒̍́̃̒͊ ̶̛̼̼͙̫̫̮͒̄̓͒̆̓̐̌́͑t̶͙͗̒̃͒̆͐̉̊͂̉̍͊͛̏̓́̕̕Ḩ̵̨̦̻͔̭̙̘͍̠̼̳͕̙͙̰̎̌́͗̓́̓́̈́̌̀͌̓͗͗́͘͜͝͝Ẽ̶̯̣̹̝̗̫̻̘̺̖́̍̔̽̚ ̴̛͚̖̔͛͆͊̐̌͒̂̒̔̑͘͠͝G̷̭̘̜̥̝̫̤̃͆͂̌̀̍̾͑́͝͝ą̵̧̩̱̻͚͍̼̘̳͉̃̐̈̾̅̏͋̄̅͑̃̊͋́̽̔́̚͝͝S̷̡̛̝͓̬̯̣̣̱͚͎͍̯̝̗̜̖̳̈́̅̿̔́̀̌͐͠ǫ̴̳͉̼̪͔͐̐̊̓̏̂̔͗̌̕͘L̸̨̢̩̣͔̻̹̠̖̼̻̭͙̀́͒̒̉͌͐́̀̇̔̄̉̔̚͜͠ͅĮ̵̧͕͉̝̩̟̹̥̜̩̦̝̝̩̬͓͍͓̀̆̓̇̏̓̌̍̌̀͂̈́̕͘͠Ǹ̶̨̛̛͔̻͔͇̭̍̈́̈́̏̐̅͐̓̇́̑̈́͘̚͘ͅĘ̸̙͔͎̰̼͚̬͓̦̘̜͚̬̰̩̯̳͉̰̹͓̿̆̉̏͒͐͌̿̇͒͌̾̐̈́͋̕͝ͅ