The Devil's Name

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DEATH IS NOT LAUGHING MATTER. It's not a difficult thing to understand. In fact, it's common knowledge that we're all going to die sooner or later. However, there are times in our lives that we wish we were dead. In our most darkest hours, we want to die- some try and succeed, others seek help and live to see another day.

Throughout my life, I lived with my head in a dark place at all times. I managed to fool everyone I met that I wasn't on the verge of suicide- even my family members were clueless to the demons that lurked around my mind. In my darkest moments, I would take long walks around the nearby city; armed with pepper spray and butcher knife - if necessary. I would breathe in deeply, wipe away my tears if there were any and continue to walk along the pathway.

I didn't commit suicide, although if someone were to glance at my autopsy report just for a second, that would appear to be the case. One that day during one of my walks, I was slightly intoxicated by the cheap cans of beer I had swiped from my apartment refrigerator. Stumbling down the walkway with a head full of killer demons, I made the grave decision of taking a shortcut through an alleyway. The voices in my head were beginning to scream, so I tilted my head and drowned their voices out with the rest of my beer. Before I could even realize, my body collided with another and we both came to a startling halt.

When our eyes met, his sparkling purple eyes seemed to electrify underneath the moonlight. But before my eyes could adjust, the man shoved me against the side of a building. The cool exposed brick tickled my back and sent waves of chills down my spine. My screams are muffled by his hand, which he shoves directly over my lips. The dull lights attached to the building slowly come to life and the man's facial features are revealed.

A crooked nose with freckles sprinkled along the bridge. Cheeks furiously burning shades of crimson. Unique, purple eyes coated with determination; not a hint of hesitation anywhere. A head of curly, raven black hair. Ex-boyfriends are assholes, I instantly thought as adrenaline began kick in.

"Hello, babe. Not one phone call or text?" He inquired, holding a sharpened knife inches away from my neck.
Abruptly, he released his hand from my mouth and I gasped out a response. "B-Blake! Why are y-y-you doing this?"
"You were such a whiny, weak little bitch, you know that right?" Blake questioned, covering my mouth again. "I've wanted to kill you since the day we first fought. I couldn't stand all your sob stories!"

Anger began to boil deep within me, aggravation that I knew one way or another would kill me. The voices in my head were silent, wiped out with my want of survival. While refusing to lose eye-contact with Blake, I rose my leg up from underneath him and kicked him in the private as hard as I could manage. Silting my throat weakly, Blake collapsed and I instantly ran as fast as I could. Behind my back, Blake attached a silencer to the gun he hid in his jacket; with one bullet to the shoulder I was down.

The ground underneath my body broke apart and I let out a blood curdling scream. My throat began to throb and tears rolled down my cheeks furiously. Rushed footsteps grew louder from behind me and the sound of a gun being reloaded echoed in my ears. I froze when the next shot rings out, my heart beat slowly fading. Blake bent over, flipping over my limp body aggressively and shot another bullet into my chest.

"GOODNIGHT YOU FUCKING BITCH!" Blake screeched, his crazed laughter filling the alley.

He aimed his gun toward my heart and I turned my head to my side; preparing for impact.

"STOP!" Another voice entered the alley, my eyes instantly widen and glance over to the voice.

Everything froze as my heart stopped, my eyes closed automatically and my blood slowly trickled down my lips. I was gone, but I could still hear the voices in my head and the pained screams that echoed the alley.