Deals With The Devil: Our Purpose

Sick As A Dog

'Good morning, mum.'
'Good morning, Joshua.' I always hated the way she said my name, although I never had the guts to tell her. 'Have you read your prayers this morning?'
'I have.' I lied, stepping into the kitchen and suddenly freezing. Beside my mother was another ghost, sitting on the counter, it's neck split in the centre. Its head hung back, revealing the inside of its throat.
'Joshua, stop staring. It's impolite.'
'S-Sorry, mother...' I took a deep breath, turning back around before hurrying back to my bedroom.
Being able to see the undead wasn't ideal, especially when most of the ghosts in this area were hellbent on messing with me. I was about 9 when it started and the spirits quickly caught on. The kind ones always moved on after talking to me but the other ones wanted something else. Their goal was to drive me so insane that I killed myself. However, after living with the "gift" for six years, I grew accustomed to the freakish imagery.
When I entered my room, I took a few breaths to recover from what I had seen. It wasn't often that accidental death victims haunted me, they usually passed on instantly but the thing I saw had its head torn so far back I could barely keep the sickness in my stomach. Of course, maybe it was a murder victim. I couldn't tell. All I knew was that I'd have to exercise the spirit before it scared me to the point of embarrassment. If my mother caught on to my power, she'd disown me before killing me. That's just how she was. 'Hey there, buddy.' I turned back to the door, refusing to look at the horrid creature. 'You can see me, right?' I shut my eyes, fists clenching as I tried my absolute hardest to shut out the noise. 'Come on, man. I'm lonely here. I know you can see me.'
'Go away.'
'No-can-do, kiddo! You're stuck with me! So, you're Joshua? Such a prissy name. "Joshua".'
'Shut up.'
'Joshua! Oh, Joshua!'
'Shut up!' I screamed, turning around and suddenly holding my breath when my gaze locked onto his open neck hole, the inside of his throat completely visible to me.
'Sorry baby boy, I'm here forever. Have fun waking up to me every day.'
'Joshua? Is everything alright in there?' My mother suddenly called from the other side of my door. I quickly composed myself, taking a few quick breaths before stepping through the spirit and opening the door. My mother stood behind it, her hands pressed against her chest and her light brown hair perfectly tucked behind her ear.
'Everything is fine. I'm sorry for worrying you.'
'What were you yelling at?'
'Just a bird. I'm quite tired and it kept chirping.'
'Birds are God's children, too. Be kind to them.'
'Yes, I'm sorry...'

It went on like that for god knows how long. Every morning, the thing popped up in front of me, it's flesh jutting out of the open wound on its neck. It told me that its name was Charlie, however, I refused to refer to him as such. Giving them names led to emotional attachments.
Through the time it was with me, I got less sleep. The bags under my eyes became impossible to cover up, my yawns grew into terrible growls that were close to pleas for spiritual rest. I could barely walk straight, my skin was almost blue and I didn't shower once. I was slipping up bad but my mother said nothing. She avoided me, instead.
'Wake up, Joshua! Time for the morning prayers!'
'Go away...' I grumbled, turning until its voice was behind me.
'Mother dearest is praying for you, today. She's spreading her pussy lips for Jesus just so he can save you.'
'Gross.'
'She's saying that if you don't recover, she'll shove the cross up her old cunt!' It snickered. I sat up, going against what my soul was begging for. I was so tired that I almost mistook the ghost for a real person until I remembered that its head was snapped back, neck torn open like a violent ketchup packet. The ghost positioned itself over me, it's transparent hands on my shoulders. 'Oh Joshua!' It moaned, grinding against my lap with the exact voice of my mother. Instead of acknowledging it, I just got up and made my way over to my dresser for some new clothes. Slowly, I slipped my shirt off and threw it onto the floor before fishing around for a new shirt. 'Oh, look who's growing!' It gasped, floating over to me and tracing its finger up and down the definition on my torso. 'So much muscle. You sure you're only 15?' I plucked out an old grey shirt and matching tracksuit pants, a pair that my mother absolutely hated seeing me in. I slipped the shirt on and quickly went about changing my pants before the ghost said anything. However, it kneeled down in front of my, eyes wide. 'Well, look who's packing! You sure you want to go about the while "Christian boy" life? You'd make a good whore. I'm sure ladies would love a lad like you. Especially with how little you speak.' I quickly slipped my pants on before hurrying out of my room. I could hear my mother in the kitchen, probably preparing lunch as she always did.
I crept into the room, putting on a bright smile before waving. 'Good morning, mother!'
'...Joshua.' She barely acknowledged me, instead focusing completely on the tomato's she was cutting up.
'How has prayer group been?'
'I haven't been going.'
'Why not?' I asked.
'She's been plotting how to exercise you, boyo.' It grinned, sitting on the bench in front of her.
'She hasn't been plotting anything!' I snapped. My mother's head shot up, a distinct fire burning in her eyes that I hadn't seen before. She gripped her knife, not looking away for a second before turning and pointing the blade right at me.
'I don't know what kind of demon you are but you are not taking my son!' She screamed, tears brimming in her eyes.
'M-Mum, I-I'm not possessed!'
'Told you.'
'Shut up, Charlie!' I shouted before looking right back at my mum, raising my hands up to take the knife from her. 'J-Just put that down...w-we can-'
'No! Not until you give me my son back!'
'I am your son! I'm not possessed! I can just see ghosts! There's a fucking spirit behind you with his neck snapped back and his fucking throat staring at me and he's been driving me fucking crazy!' My mother paused, disgust prominent in her face like the point of her knife against my neck.
'...you're Joshua?'
'Yes!'
'...you've strayed too far from the path of god. Go to the basement.'
'A-Alright! Fine! Just stop pointing that knife at me!' I was too full of adrenaline to think and practically bolted down to the basement like she asked. It was strange, she always told me to never go down there. I almost tripped when I saw Charlie standing there, his back turned so that I could see the face hanging off his back.
'You really shouldn't have come down here.'
I turned around but immediately felt a point press against my chest. My mother was standing right behind me, an insanity in her eyes.
'Against the wall. Now.' She growled. I began to tremble, unsure of what to do. 'Now!' I scurried off, bolting to the wall and pressing my whole body against it. It was at that moment that I noticed metal shackles that dug into the stone walls. The metal was polished and untouched from the looks of it. Shelves oooh shelves lined toe two walls beside me, each one holding glass jars with scribbled writing against white stickers.
'Looks like she's finally going to use those damn jars. I'm thinking that they fuck with your brain or something.'
'The shackles,' She started, 'put the right one on.'
'W-What? Why? I-I'm not-'
'I said put them on!'
I didn't move.
She bit her tongue, approaching me recklessly and pressing the blade to my neck. While one of her hands held the knife, the other went about taking my hand. I was so confused and shocked that I didn't even fight back. I felt like a prisoner in my own body. It wasn't until the got the second one on that I began to panic, pushing myself off the wall and trying to kick her before thudding back, my wrists still firmly locked into the restraints. 'W-What is this? I-I don't understand...' I began to tear up, my mind slowly beginning to process what was happening.
'You're a monster. You don't deserve to be gods perfect creature. Instead, you can be a dog. An animal that is lower than our perfect race.'
'You fucking moron...there is no god! Anything that is alive is equal!' She didn't reply, instead stepping over to one of the old wooden shelves and plucking one of the bottles from it.
'Your father spent years obtaining these bottles. They're meant for reincarnation, but they never fully worked. They could never physically change a person...and they never truly stripped the host of their human mind.'
'Even when the woman is about to turn you, she doesn't act like she really loves you...'
'Your mind will be shoved back...it'll start off small...one dose every day. When you begin to shift by yourself, we up the dose until you turn into something else.'
And that's exactly what she did.
Every day she'd come in, full a syringe up with the strange liquid and inject it into me. The pain that followed the injection could only be described as mind breaking. I'm could feel it swim through my veins, corrupting my blood. It went on for months, maybe years, until one day, I snapped.