Down Goes The Devil

Chapter 5

Kevin stepped on the pedal as hard as he could, racing on the highway, but no matter how fast he drove, he could not escape his fate that was already written in the stars, carved by the hands of the devil in the most aesthetic yet tragic way. He tapped on the steering wheel several times, distracting himself from the thoughts that were eating him inside out. Kevin was a foxy deceiver, yet, he could not deceive himself into thinking everything was never out of place. He knew he was committing what he saw as the greatest sin of all, betraying the one that he loved the most in this world. Yes, indeed, Kevin loved his wife with all of his heart. No matter where he looked, he kept seeing her disappointed face upon finding out what he has been up to lately. He tried taking a glimpse at the night sky, but it was never enough for him. The sky was black, ornamented with shiny stars, but it reminded him of the black gaping hole in his heart that couldn't be mended. The moon was beautiful that night, as white as the heavy snow on a chilly winter day, but again, it felt as if he was looking at his pale skin as the life was being slowly sucked out of him. Wherever he looked, he could not escape these racing thoughts and excruciating worries.

The more he immersed himself into reflecting on his actions, the more it felt as if he was plucking petals of a flower, in a hopeless attempt to ensure his wife's undying love for him. Apparently, Lucifer has done a great job with this one. He seemed to collapse slowly by the second, which was somehow entertaining. This man has driven himself to the point of no redemption. The more guilt he felt, the more his animalistic urges screamed louder, and the more he indulged into adultery to forget about it, but the guilt always comes back, creeping on its tiptoes, tearing him apart. Ethan could hear his thoughts loud and clear:" Why am I doing this? Will She ever forgive me?" No she will not. "Am I a terrible person?" Yes you are. "Will I ever get rid of Samantha?" Leave that to me.

When he finally got home, his wife and kids were already sleeping. He peeked at his wife slumbering, without a care in the world. Have a few drinks. Without a second thought, Kevin sat in the dining room, pouring himself a glass after glass, drinking the pain and misery away. The whiskey felt burning hot deep down his throat, but it was not as ablaze as the words he struggled to spill out. Being always engrossed in his work, he never had any real friends to vent to, only business partners. Even if he did, he would've been too embarrassed to voice these thoughts out loud. His deeds were too shameful to be voiced, and only filth bags such as himself would resonate with him or offer some kind of condolence. His body temperature was arising the more whiskey he chugged, and he started undressing himself gradually, until he was only in his briefs.

Taking his clothes off was not enough for him. He wished he could peel his skin off, for he could not wash off the guilt off of him by getting drunk. Eventually, he got up, staggered towards the bedroom, before he accidentally blacks out in the dining room, which would not be a pretty sight for his daughters when they see him first thing in the morning. His smell reeked of alcohol, but he was too wasted to take a shower. A few minutes passed, and he fell asleep next to his wife. What a miserable idiot. She'll probably think he was too weary and consumed by his job. What a fool. Ethan has always been fascinated by how blindly these people walk into relationships that are deemed to crumble down. "Love is blind" they say. Blind my ass, you could've fled from the beginning and spared yourself all the energy that you've spent. People were flawed, and dealing with their own flaws was an enough hustle, no need to burden themselves with other people's. While Florence and Kevin slept quietly in their love nest, Ethan went ahead to check on Samantha and play a little game with her.

He simply blinked and he found himself in her room. She had a messy, shabby room that he did not like. This woman was so repulsive that the devil himself did not take pride in keeping her company. Her clothes were scattered around, she had a huge basket with her dirty clothes tossed inside, reeking of sweat and cigarettes. She was sitting in her bed, chugging down alcohol directly from the bottle. He hated the feeling of familiarity that took over him when he saw her, the glimpses of his own past flashing right before his eyes. He was in no way similar to this disgrace of a human, or at least, that was the affirmation he tried to convince himself with. His eyes followed her as she drowsily stood up from her bed, limped her way towards her deck, and started writing in her journal. Never has he thought that that pretentious woman would do anything as productive or artsy as journaling. As he touched her journal, he got glimpses of the entries and poems that she wrote, which portrayed a past tainted with misery, written by a wretched being; a clump of disorganized thoughts and verbalized emotions that will never see the light of day.

"Dear diary, I know very well that you will never hear, see or respond to my outcries, but I still feel a certain level of comfort in pouring my heart out to you when nobody listens to my woes. I find myself in a constant dilemma, a whirlwind of guilt trips that consume me from the inside out, which I have no idea how to deal with or decipher. I no longer know who I am or what my purpose in life is. I have grown attached to somebody that does not belong to me, and yet, I still treat him dearly, holding on to him as if I'm hanging on to dear life, as if my existence will peak if I get a hold of him. We grow closer every single day, and the closer I get to him, the more distant he seems to be. I feel stuck in a delirium that consists of a life where we grow older together. I fantasize about that life every night, and my heart aches each morning I wake up and find out that it was all a mere fantasy. Two days ago, I grew exhausted of the reveries I was indulged in, so I want to the sea. The sea has always been my comfort, and I cried out to it as the waves ebbed and flowed, uttering my darkest secrets and my vilest desires. I waited so long to get an answer from this vast worldly wonder, but it turned out the sea was no confession priest, it was just romanticized salty water, nothing more, nothing less. The waves carried those secrets away, and I felt them slowly dissipating into the deep waters, and I gazed upon them with a feeling of relief, as if they truly vanished and strayed further away from me. Alas, my heart still felt heavy, overwhelmed with regret and agony, and I looked at the sea once again, and spilled out my secrets one more time, hoping that they disappear magically in a blink of an eye, but they did not. I eventually went back to my gloomy shelter, and locked my door once again, as it turned out my only hope was just as measly as what I would call a friend. To cut it short, I crave the love that might sprout between him and me, but a promised love could never sprout without care and gentleness, which he was keeping away from me and spending it all on somebody else. I know this attachment will lead me nowhere, but deep inside, a glimpse of faith is keeping me going, and I wish it would fade away so I can rest for a while."

She was, as a matter of fact, extremely regretful, and yet she still pursued her childish fantasies and daydreams. She needed to be humbled, and Kevin was doing a fine job at it. However, his demeanor lacked a bit of spice, and that is what Ethan was there for. Drunken sinners did not need an excessive amount of conviction; they were simply fragile puppets, and he was their ventriloquist, controlling their lives, which felt exhilarating. It was a sensation he has not felt in a long while. Text him. Samantha's heart started palpitating, as she grabbed her phone and thought about what to write. Her vision, blurry under the influence, only allowed her to write a single question. "are you home?".

After she hit the button and the message were delivered, she crawled back into her bed, falling into a deep slumber, which was, for him, a failed attempt to run away from reality, as he was going to end up haunting her in both her daydreams and nightmares. He gently put his hand on her head, weary of waking her up somehow, as this was the most amusing part of his plan. All he had to do was envision the scene, andthe dream morphed into what he wanted it to become.