username BLACK

Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Kill Friendly

Mr Khan was a dead man. He was dead from last six hours.

"Humans are vicious little beings." His voice was light.

My eyes were taped tightly. Must be duct-tape. I was scared about the pouch in my pocket.

"Virus, you see." He was standing just behind me. "Has a similar pattern as Humans."

Near my right ear he stood, then I felt him shifting towards my left. His hands on my shoulders, both of them.

"Imagine." He said. "Imagine if I kill you right now."

I swallowed the saliva that was building up in my mouth. My shirt, drenched in sweat, stuck to my back. My legs tightly roped and my hands tied behind my head. I tugged in my thighs together so it might not fall out of my pocket.

"The prophecy will turn out to be a big old scam." He paused and then yelled. "You are a disappointment boy!"

My mouth was taped too and the chair I was tied to, it was hanging through the ceiling. I felt like a disco-ball. The ball that has shimmering mirror square pieces glued to it. The ball that reflects light to increase the high of the drugs you take. The purple visuals, the red glittering. "Dance you fucking asshole!" The ball yells at the little squeaky little guy at the corner of the bar who is too shy to get a girl. "Dance you squeaky little motherfucker. Drink, fuck and die!" I felt dizzy.

"You know red told me." He paused. "Wait, do you think you are one of them?"

His freezing lack of empathy was unyielding. I heard him laugh. I could feel blisters protruding beneath my shirt.

"Oh its one those moments when you realize." He removed the taped from my face. "That some people like to talk before they die."

"You smell bad." I replied.

"Oh but." He held my face between his hands. "Do you think you are one of them?"

"Do you think it matters now?" I asked back.

"Oh boy." His voice turned vivacious. "Have you heard rumours about me?"

I was silent, I couldn't speak. The smell of blood, fresh blood, as disturbing me. The chair was pulled down. The floor felt slippery.

"How does it feel to be the strongest demon to ever walk on earth?" I asked. "Considering that you wasted your life in the pursuit of faulty pleasures."

"It feels good, lively." He replied.

"Without any motive, you are wasting your gift." I could feel him, standing right in front of me. The smell of blood too intense, I could literally taste it.

"Motive, my friend." He said in his thick voice, Scottish accent. "Is an illusion. All lives to walk on this earth are doomed, doomed because they have to die."

He was right. The ultimate motive of a life is death. That's the end of life lessons from a motherfucking demon who reduces people to nuggets. Fuck you! I scream in my head. Fuck everyone I wanna kill this motherfucker.

"You can't kill me." I say. "Imagine a thousand years of preparations it took you to catch. You kill me again and then may be a thousand years later, I'll be back to kick your ass."

"Are you high?" He said, coming closer and sniffing my face. "We will have achieved what we want."

Was I high? What was I? Batman? Tony stark? Superheroes don't exist. Those who do are dicks. You are not a superhero. You are an asshole. You are not here to save the world, you are here to save yourselves, because you are a part of the world. You too are a dick.