Collection Of Stray Thoughts

The Last Battle

The hot shower had unknotted his muscles and he was feeling a bit better, though certain heaviness still persisted in the air.

He stepped out of the shower cabin with a towel wrapped around his torso, the steam all around him. He quickly dried himself and slipped into a sweatshirt and pants.

Just as he was about to exit the bathroom, he stopped before the sink. The mirror was fogged up by the steam, it blurred him as he stood in front of it. Slowly, he moved his hand towards the mirror and wiped the part which was supposed to show his face.

A perfectly set face stared back at him in the mirror, steel grey eyes stood out against the pale skin.

But he saw none of it.

Just a crazed monster bent on tearing every life apart. Just a devil ready to destroy and be destroyed.

He saw himself for who he was, rather who he had become.

His eyes fell upon his hand, which was still on the mirror, stopped in the action of wiping it.

As he looked at his well-defined hand, he saw Satan's hand. He saw the hand which had been slaying every soul it had encountered.

He drew back his hand, all the while staring at it. He now looked at both his hands as he held them before himself, palms upwards.

He stared at the hands which had sinned, and continued to do so.

He felt different as he looked at them, like someone else staring at something else. He felt separated from his contaminated body, from his demonic soul.

He stared at his body, the body he had long lost power of. He searched for his soul, the soul which was not his anymore.

It was the devil's mouthpiece, the body the fallen angle's mausoleum.

His iron heart ticked away the seconds as he stood there motionless.

Again, he lifted his night colored head and looked at the mirror. Again, the steel grey eyes stared back.

But this time, he was aware of the monsters within him, he was aware of the devil lounging behind the curtain of those grey emotionless orbs.

The gravity of what he had become unleashed itself upon him as the devil stared back at him in the mirror.

And then, the last battle began. The battle to separate one's self from one's body and soul. The battle to leave whatever he was, whatever that was.

His mind was blank with wordless screams, his body twisted away from him. He screamed, but only the lips moved. He was screaming, but no sound was coming out.

Tears of hatred and terror glistened on his pale face, shone like pearls on his dark eyelashes.

Sobs rocked his body as he fought to free himself from the shackles of his soul and body.

He gave it his all. Gave enough to make his knees buckle beneath the effort of holding him upright. He fell onto the bathroom floor, though his efforts did not lessen one bit.

Even though he knew he was fighting a lost battle, he refused to accept it.

He tried until he was there no more, he screamed until the darkness closed upon him.

And with dropping eyes and numb body, he fought. He fought as the silence crashed upon him with the quietness of the devil's laughter.