Fortunately for Trent, his new almost existence on Earth granted him the perk of being able to ignore the Earthly concept of Time, and due to the fact that his demon had seemed to have died before he rather hastily ended his original existence, he was currently laying on the smooth, and cold hardwood floor in the location that his often unmade bed had resided, but now it was merely an empty space. The house was an empty space as well, all furniture removed, the furnishings that had previously filled the house were all in various antique shoppes because his grief stricken parents could no longer bear looking at the memory tainted objects. All of the items that he had claimed possession of during life were hidden away in a storage unit outside of the city limits, of the city his parents were now living in, which was in a completely different state.
The woman who had been Trent’s mother Marie wasn’t sure which had been worse, having to live in the town where all of her memories had been based around her once beautiful bouncing baby boy (who would always be a baby to her, no matter his age and regardless of the fact that he was now deceased) her having to suffer through that along with the parade of pitying glances that had been constantly bombarding her, she had begged her husband Milo to take her somewhere else, he almost immediately complied, Marie was the love of Milo’s life and he was willing to do anything to save their marriage, which would prove to be quite a feat for most earthly unions are unable to survive the loss of a child, let alone the self inflicted death of a child that they had up until the moment where the gunshot they would never forget hearing reverberated throughout their ear canals and banged against their ear drums with the blast of complete parental failure. At first they had thought he hadn’t left a suicide note, so they were confused and broken but then they searched his room and found four years worth of personal journals which was essentially one thousand four hundred and sixty different suicide notes, which really only worsened things, because for every piece of suicidal ideation was another immense failure on their part.
It was also fortunate for Trent that time moved so quickly for humans, because if had been forced to see the repercussions his actions had on his parents, whom he had in fact loved very dearly even if his death conveyed the opposite impression, he most likely would have been overwhelmed with the desire to murder himself once more, which would not have worked for the Guardians were the only ones with the power to bring him back to Epeace and they were certainly not going to do so until Sydney and Hilden knew which one of them had been correct in regards to happiness for humans. Had he attempted to end his second existence, he would have felt severe physical pain until his phantasmal body healed. As an almost creature of Earth, he would heal far faster than a human, he was the closest thing to “immortal” on Earth, which was rather ironic considering his deadness. Trent was unaware that he had spent two weeks lost completely in his thoughts laying immobile in the room that he was fairly sure he no longer had a claim to. It had felt longer than that because he still had some of the aspects of the humanity from his original earthly existence, aspects of humanity like expecting to feel time. He had been so enwrapped with his thoughts that he failed to notice the setting and rising of the sun, (A ball of gasses that the earth and a few other planets revolve around which provides light, heat, and a general measurement of time for the human population.) It was on the last day of his two existential weeks full of various feelings yet shockingly devoid of regret, Trent currently much preferred his specter like presence in the empty house to his previous life full of monotony and reasonless self disdain. Even after fourteen days of human time of nothing but unalloyed self-exploration he wasn’t heartily implicit with why he had blown out his brains, but he felt completely sure that it had been the right thing for him to do.
One of the particularly unfortunate things about being a human being on Earth was that most often, when ones innermost and most evil demon,(most humans are plagued by multiple organ destroying demons, and a few ultra unlucky ones had ones dancing around in their skulls altering their chemical make up and eating away at their brains, those demons were known as “mental illnesses” to humans.) Hope dies, or just weakens and falls into a demonic coma before awakening one day to dance and deliver its hatefully hopeful poison in extreme doses, the human tends to die. The Guardians are aware of this and cannot fathom how the thing that slowly but surely releases toxins into the sanguine rivers that flow within the humans body can also nurture and buttressed their brains. Almost the very instant that one of the human creatures managed to kill their hope rogue their brain’s palisades began to crumple against the depression of disconsolateness and the neurons began to wither and fade away. It is a complex and barely livable survival that the humans are forced to endure, it’s why they all die, there truly is no way for them to exist for extended periods of their “time”, they die if they keep their demons and they cease to live if they slay their demons.
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The Patron Saint of Monsters
Teen FictionA girl falls in love with the monster under her bed.
