The Sowachowski Murders

Overthinking

A week had passed and Sock still hadn't come back. Jonathan was worried. A few months ago he would have relished the solitude, but Sock had become an annoyance that he had become used to and even appreciated. The demon's attempts to kill him were no longer creepy, instead rather amusing, his endless patter the soundtrack to Jonathan's dull life.

Jonathan had expected to live the rest of his life alongside the demon, and had planned to live a long one just to spite him. The possibility that Sock was already gone scared Jonathan more than he would admit. He was unintentionally closer to Sock than any other friends of his, previous or current. Maybe he would go so far to say that Sock was his best friend. His 'imaginary friend' was his best friend. It was a sentiment which could get him in an asylum but it was the truth.

Speaking of the truth, Sock had spoken it the day he disappeared. He really had murdered his family.

Jonathan wondered what it had been like. To see the light fade from the eyes of the people who bore you, who looked after you throughout your short lifetime. Sock said so himself, he had always had homicidal tendencies, but to see the life drain out of a squirrel is very different to see it drain away from the people who had always accepted you. Or not.

He wanted to ask Sock questions. How long had he displayed these 'homicidal tendencies'? Was he a psychopath? Why did he kill his parents? Was it an accident or did he do it with cold blood? Jonathan couldn't imagine it. The idea of Sock brandishing a knife with a gaze of pure murder was one he could easily laugh off.

The blonde, alive human flopped onto his bed, staring at the ceiling. "Sock, if you can hear me, come back. Please. Just, say something. I don't know, anything."

Jonathan froze. Did he just do that? Did he just call out to Sock? Although he was in the comfort of his own room, Jonathan had tried to avoid a habit of calling for the demon unless the demon called for him.

Wow. He was getting desperate.

Not desperate enough for Sock's liking. He avoided saying he wanted to commit suicide. Jonathan was desperate but he wasn't that desperate. He was just lonely.

Sock had done well to keep Jonathan for himself. In this friendship, there would be no consequences for Sock. He was a demon and invisible. There was the added bonus that this was his job. On the other end of the spectrum, Jonathan was made to look like a lunatic, who frequently talked to his imaginary friend named 'Sock'. The imaginary friend of his even talked back to him and made him laugh. Nobody wanted to know who Jonathan was. He was the crazy boy.

All thanks to Sock.

~~~~~~

Mephistopheles watched the young demon with half lidded eyes. Sock was lying on the ground. He hadn't moved for a couple of hours, which the Devil had never imagined possible. Their time together had only been a short while but it didn't involve a lot of motionless time.

"You have to go back, kid. Look, I kinda like you but if he doesn't punch his own ticket you will get fired. Literally."

Sock looked up dejectedly. Bags circled his normally vibrant eyes as he gave Mephistopheles the most dejected kicked-puppy look he had ever seen. Considering that he was the Devil, and had seen many dead attempt to bribe their way out of death, it was quite an achievement. "Why should I? He probably hates me now."

"Perfect! Now he'll really want to kill himself."

"But... I like him."

Mephistopheles raised an eyebrow at him. "You can't fall for your first victim. That's rule one, or something like that, of the job."

Sitting himself up, the green eyed demon frowned at him. "What? No, I like him as friends."

The Devil gave him a sceptical look. "Queerbaiting the reader, huh: that's cheap, Sowachowski. Him killing himself would keep you two lovebirds together but he will be alphabetising phobias, not taking you out on romantic dates."

Sock frowned. "Queerbaiting?"

Mephistopheles smirked. The demon was recovering already. "No. You're a demon and he's a human. It would never work."

Sock wrinkled his nose and remained silent. "He has nobody else to talk to."

"Because nobody wants to talk to the boy who talks to himself."

"He doesn't have a social life."

"That was harsh, kid, but nobody wants to talk to him."

"He talks to me—"

"Because he has nobody else to talk to. Hey, maybe if you stay away he will commit suicide! Don't worry, it will still be in your name and you won't be fired. That way, everyone's happy!"

"Except for Jonathan."

"Well, obviously. The victim doesn't matter here."

Finally, Sock stood up. "Yes, he does. If I don't get him to commit suicide, then you'll fire me. He matters to me! My entire existence relies on him."

"I hear what you're saying but you're not acting like it."

"What?"

"For somebody who is so keen on saving their skirt-covered butt, you haven't even tried. You've let yourself like him, you've let yourself feel scared of his thoughts of you. Don't care about his feelings, you need to be selfish. You're a demon, martyrdom is for the angels. If you don't get yourself away from here, I'll fire you on the spot. Got it?"

Defiant, Sock pulled his goggles over his eyes. A green light started to glow around his form. As the light threatened to absorb him, he looked straight at Mephistopheles.

"Aye sir."

A tad dramatic, the Devil thought, as the demon returned to the human world.