The Death of a Demon

Death of a Demon

⚠️Tw: M!rder, Su!c!de, Ab!se, intrusive thoughts⚠️

The year was 1413. Lawrence was a peasant. He dressed in rags due to being poor. But was happy to be on his way home to his wife. How he loved her, so. He worked hard to try and provide for her, yet they could hardly provide any food. It was good that they had such good neighbours who gave them vegetables that the man had picked from working on the farm. Lawrence was only a blacksmith's apprentice which didn't pay much at all. He carried a bag full of a few of his tools that he had made during the working day. He had been sent home a little early since he had finished his duties earlier than usual. Once he reached his house, he slowly pushed the door open. He heard some odd noise coming from the next room. The man slowly closed the wooden door as he furrowed his eyebrows. He reached into his satchel, pulling out a steel dagger he had forged. He slowly walked to the other room, silently, trying not to give his presence away. He peaked through a crack in the door. Lawrence's vision focused as he saw.. his wife in bed with another man. He felt his stomach drop as a rage bubbled up inside of him. He felt sick to the very core. To make it worse.. the man his wife was in bed with was their neighbour. A man who Lawrence had considered to be his best friend. A man he had trusted. 'Kill them.' A thought said in his brain. He closed his eyes, trying to shake the thought away. 'You have to. She broke your heart. He broke your trust. They're no use to you.' Lawrence gripped at the dagger's handle tighter. He barged into the room. The two in the bed startled and covered themselves up with the blanket.

"L-Lawrence! My friend!" The man said in surprise.

"Lawrence, honey-" His wife said before spotting the weapon in his hand. "Lawrence..?"

The brown haired man dragged his wife out of the bed by her arm, dragging her out of the bedroom. He closed the door, making sure the other man could not get out. He stared down in disbelief at his once loving wife. "How could you, Elizabeth..?" He spat angrily.

"Lawrence- accept my apology! I beg of thee-" She whimpered in fear. "Don't do anything rash, please!"

"Don't do anything rash?!" He bellowed. "Don't do anything rash, the wench says! Yet, she doth be courting another man." Lawrence said and held the knife to her throat. "My most sincere apologies for what I may be about to do, my dear. But I shall have no mercy." He said before plunging the dagger into her chest, hard and remorselessly. "Pity.." He muttered with an evil smirk on his face as he watched the life drain out of his wife's body. He removed the knife from her chest and kicked the bedroom door open. "John.." He said. "I put all my faith in thee, and yet you hath burnt it." Lawrence grabbed his old friend by the throat. "Thou shalt suffer the most painful death. You will pay for the agony you have caused to strike me! You shall feel it all the same. But yet in a much unalike way." He said, drawing back his dagger and plunging it into the man's heart. "Suffer.." He muttered, hearing the man cry out in pain. He chuckled and pulled the blade out of him. Lawrence watched as the man bled out on the floor. He stood there for a moment, emotionless until he had realised what he'd done. He snapped out of his trance like state and stumbled out of his bedroom to his wife's body. He felt the dread set in as he tossed the knife onto the floor as he kneeled down, pulling his wife into his arms as he let out a mournful wail. "Elizabeth.." Lawrence sobbed. "Forgive me.. I pray you.." He whispered, holding the lifeless woman close. His teary eyes wandered over to the dagger and he picked it up once more. And then, in a flash, it was all over. He had stabbed himself, the same fate as his wife and neighbour. But soon, he had woken up in a waiting room, surrounded by other people who all seemed to be dead. His name then got called out by a far too familiar voice that sent a shiver down his spine. His mother. No. It couldn't be. The woman who had abused him. Made his childhood a torture. His mother. She took him to another room and she sat down at a desk, tutting in annoyance.

"Homicide? Honestly, Lawrence!" She scolded him.

"Mother-" He said before being cut off.

"I don't want to hear it! Due to your homicidal acts, you are now a demon." She explained, pushing a folded up striped suit across the desk. "You're a complete disappointment and a piece of shit! If I hear that you haven't been doing your job properly then I'll have you gone! For good!" She said, furiously smacking her hand against the table. She grabbed a handbook, placing it in front of her. "Your name will now be Lawrence Betelgeuse Shoggoth. And I'll have no ifs, ands or buts! I'll be cursing you too, since it's part of the protocol! Here.." She said, flicking through the pages. "Your hair will show your emotion and you can't say your name, Betelgeuse! Which you will go by. Lawrence is 𝙣𝙤𝙩 an acceptable name for a demon!"

The poltergeist flinched when she insulted him and every time she rose her voice. "Y-yes, mother.." He muttered, glancing down.