Jason Teufel

Chapter I: Demons of the Past

Patient continues to exhibit ongoing night terrors about a burning world while expressing feelings of extreme social disassociation with parent and peers. Concepts of morality seem to be severely diminished, perhaps even non-existent.

Diagnosis: Possible Antisocial personality disorder

Further evaluations needed.

(From the notes of Dr. Garhard, Jason Teufel’s childhood psychiatrist.)

It was a dreary Tuesday night with thick dark clouds pouring rain down onto the streets below. The windows of Jason Teufel’s apartment were heavily fogged, and every couple of minutes a bright flash would split the sky followed by a rattling roar that shook the tiny one-bedroom building.

As usual, Jason was spending his night off curled up on the charcoal leather couch, in front of the TV, watching reruns of his favorite shows while drinking himself into a stupor. The small room around him was relatively barren, with a single island separating the sitting area from the kitchen and a large painting of a stormy sea on the wall behind him; a short hallway to the left of the television led to a small bathroom and further down to the bedroom.

Most people would have preferred to spend a night such as this with friends or family, or at least talking to friends or family to ward off the uncomfortable side effects of social solitude, but not Jason. He had neither friends nor family. His only friend was the fifth glass of vodka held loosely in his right hand.

For as long as Jason could remember, he had felt like he’d never belonged in the world that he lived. His parents had gotten divorced when he was only two and he had been raised single-handedly by a distant, unaffectionate mother, never knowing who or where his father was.

It was irrelevant to Jason at this point, since he was now twenty-two years old and capable of caring for himself, though the quality with which he did so could certainly be debated, given that he spent nearly every night drowning himself in alcohol.

Another flash split the room, revealing Jason’s dark and gloomy features. Over the last couple of years, his external looks had come to reflect his internal feelings. He was average height with a slim build. He had thin dark hair with tips of gray, styled into a short Mohawk. Heavy bags rested beneath each of his narrow brown eyes and thick, self-inflicted scaring crisscrossed his pale white arms.

Jason glanced down at his mutilated limbs and shuddered. The scars were a constant reminder of the life he’d tried so desperately to take. The life he despised and hated more than anything; yet the life he continued to live out day after day. He’d considered getting tattoos to cover the deformities, but he’d dismissed the idea after coming to the conclusion that it wouldn’t hide anything from himself and the opinions of others were of little concern.

A rumble echoed through the apartment and Jason drained another glass of the clear, burning liquid. By now his body was numb and he could barely move a muscle, yet Jason still managed to reach awkwardly down off the couch to grab the long blue bottle and refill his glass. He’d been sitting in the same spot for nearly an hour, occasionally giving a halfhearted smile to something comical in the show he was watching. He continued drinking until he blacked out... It was the only way he ever slept nowadays.

Before long, Jason was lying face down on the couch with his mouth open and one arm hanging over the edge of the cushions down to the floor. Yet despite all his efforts to stop the nightmares from coming, he once more found himself in another terrible setting.

For as long as he could remember, his dreams had always been a bit off, consisting almost entirely of horrific nightmares. And this dream was no different. He was standing on the balcony of a massive tower, in a burning desolate world, overlooking an immense battle taking place away in the distance. An army of angels with hooded heads, bright white armor, and massive feathery wings used weapons made of crackling electricity and spheres of purple lightning to devastate a legion of demons, covered head to toe in thick black metal.