Black Magic (Kellic)

15

Despondent. How I loath that word. There are words for upset: sad, depressed, morose, on and on it goes. But there is no word quite like despondent. Despondent has a heft to it. Despondent is beyond sad. Despondent isn't just being upset about something, it's being so upset about something that you can't function. Everything just.... stops. 

And right now, as I look at Vic's bleeding wrists, I can't think of another word to describe the situation. He's not dead, and he didn't exactly inflict them on himself, though I'm not quite sure that he never has, for there are other scars on his wrists, but he looked like he was suffering. I don't know what happened. I blacked out for a while, and when I came to, I was here, in this scene, at Vic's house. The strangest part was the fact that I wasn't even sure where that was. I've never been to Vic's house. So I don't know how I got here, and I don't know how he managed to get these wounds inflicted on himself.

It's really sick to think that it might have been me. When I finally was able to see everything again, there was a knife near my knee, with a bit of blood on it. Heaven only knows if the blood on said knife actually belonged to Vic. Which reminds me of what happened beforehand. 

I 

let

Satan

take 

me 

over

and 

He

hurt

Vic

Fuck! I pulled at my hair and hit my head over and over. How could I have done this? How could I have let this happen? And why, why did I ever have faith in Him? "I hate you!" I screamed to the spirit that I knew was listening. But this is what I wanted, isn't it? I wanted Vic, and I got him. I wanted him so desperately that I let him get hurt because of it. I didn't care. And now look where it's gotten me? Hasn't he been hurt enough today? And I just added externally inflicted wounds as well!

I don't need Satan himself to tell me that I could be his embodiment on Earth. For once in my life, I don't mean that in a good way. I hurt someone. I've been hurting people. I've been completely okay with it because it never mattered to me before.

This changes nothing. I'm not suddenly going to become different, now am I? Even if I wanted to, no one would let me change. People don't let you change who you are. No one ever thinks any different of you, no matter who much you try to tell them that you're a different person. In fact, I feel no sympathy for Vic. He was the one who was desperately clinging to Andy. I wanted them to break up, not only for myself, but to protect him. If poor Vic ever lost the one person 'saving him from himself,' he would die! He needs to not cling to a person in an unstable relationship. Andy's no hero. He's just another man. And Vic deserves a real hero to save him.

But I'm not that hero either.

I stood up and left Vic there. Someone else would save him, it wouldn't be me. I looked back for once, not acting on my initial thoughts. I won't do this, not this time. I took my phone out of my pocket and dialed 911.

I explained to the operator that I'd found someone lying on the floor with bloody arms. I told them that the person was unconscious. And I told them where I was, after stepping outside to see the address first of course. In my heart there was a sudden heft. I'd just done something that I wasn't ashamed of for one of the first times since I can remember.

And I didn't do it in the name of any deity.