61 seconds

50 seconds

Your eyes skim over the initials carved into the knifes handle once again reminding you of your father.

But also of me.

Reminding yourself from when you were younger and how we created your name for you.

Eliana Sawyer.

Your full name.

But when you were younger you could never actually remembered your full name, you had used to get the letters 'A' and 'O' mixed up, I had started calling you Eli, the spelling looking similar to your fathers name so it had made you feel closer to him.

You had asked me to call you that.

Your parents never liked it.

Your brothers had always teased in that if father had wanted a son named after him he would've done it and that you need to be the pretty little princess mummy and daddy had always wanted.

Your parents had given you your name for a reason, they hated that you had to have gone and shortened it.

However I had given it to you therefore you wanted to keep it, forever.

Your family was petty and oh you loved them but they had made you feel that constant shiver storming up your spine like a water droplet falling upwards, running away from the norm like everyone else just dropping into the puddle.

That was it, you didn't want to be just like them, to follow them wherever they shall lead, to lay down and let everyone cruel all over you, to tell you to shut your face and just behave and act normal, to squeeze in tightly with the rest of the family, but that's it you wanted to be different. Your own person. Your own destiny.

I had promised you that.

You were never a bad child, you had known when to shut your mouth and to whom was superior to you. You never caused a fuss nor had a bubble of wrath boiling on the surface waiting for your to unleash and cause a shitstorm even I would have sometimes screamed at you telling you to just let it all out for goodness shake!

49 seconds

A cold water droplet slides down your back in the mist of the boiling rush of water causing your shoulder blades to quiver ever so slightly.

You want the water to be falling upwards because that's truly how you feel in the present, that your world has been turned upside down, that you're hanging from your feet by the showerhead, your body weightless minus your soul, your head heavy by the gravity dragging you down.

Oh how you miss them.

And me.

48 seconds

You slowly bring the blade up towards your neck.

You want this to be quick.

Over.

Done.

Maybe you'd get to see your family again. Even though you had had you rough stages among them they were still family after all and you did love them of course.

They were good people, so were.. are you.

You've never truly sinned, done everything by the book, listened well and have always been kind and selfless although there were times where you didn't believe humanity deserved it.

But you never saw the world in black, white and grey. Although you believed you should as that's what I had told you I would give.

47 seconds

You motion the quick slice an inch away from your dewy skin in practice ready for the real thing. Knowing full well you'll bleed out if you cut deep enough you assume you'll sever your jugular artery causing you to bleed out and finally go in about 20-25 seconds.

46 seconds

You do it again, but this time slower, getting closer to your skin.

45 seconds

And again.

44 seconds

And again.

You try to swallow the bulge growing in your neck.

43 seconds

You stop; you breath. You keep the knife pressing against you neck. Obviously pressing a little hard than you realise as you close your eyes as you feel a thicker, slightly sticker liquid slither down your body.

Hesitantly you open your eyes and feel a slight pinch and stinging sensation when you realise you've pricked a little harder into your neck only drawing a droplet of blood.

42 seconds

You watch the dark droplet circled with red crash to the floor staining the shower base ever so slightly.

Realisation hits you; your legs quake and you throw yourself against the bleak shower wall dropping the knife as you do so.

Panting rather heavily.

"What am I doing?" Your voice shakes out as your rub your dull, tired, burning eyes against your clammy hands. As if someone is going to slap you around you face getting you to snap out of it. However I'm not here. Nor are your parents. Nor are your brothers. Theoretically speaking nor are you, well not the old you, not anymore. So that's why you're doing this.

"God.." You whisper.

No not him.

41 seconds

"I need you here." And now I know you're trying to reach out for me, one last time, because I know you're going to do this.

Maybe you've still got a shred of faith left in your mind for me, maybe you believe when you are brave enough to finally commit your sin I can take you finally to your loved ones again.

But the whole Heaven/ Hell thing is just a metaphor right? Just an empty inevitable built beneath the lust of what mankind truly desires after their software shuts down; their hard-drive still runs just somewhere it can't be fully retrieved again. 

Oh they want to believe the little Celestial being watching behind them, protecting their backs and taking them to Heaven because they've judged and been responsible for all the good deeds and things said person has done.

But Angels are dicks you'd say. They're God's warriors after all-- sent down here to do his dirty work so he'd keep his wholesome hands clean, they're not humane nor care, nor have a single shred of humanity. They can't feel. And sometimes you'd wonder where the whole stereotype of the Angelic being perched on your shoulder came from when in reality aren't they just an empty vessel with a lack of personality?

Or was that me talking in your head?

After all-- in this Angel vs Demon war, which one am I?