Savior

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He was beautiful. Every single part of him was a sight for only the righteous to see, from the sole of his feet to his long twists of hair that accompanied his shoulders. He was created to do what he was longed for...love. For eons upon time that's exactly what he did, he was a healer of the heart. Humanity prayed to him to heal what they couldn't fix inside and he indeed did. It brought him joy to see the instant happiness sparkle in their eyes when a prayer was answered.

Then war came, and all that was-was no more. His friends, family, even a few of his enemies all perished by the hand of his father. Him and his brothers and sisters had no choice but to take the life of their creator and take control of humanity. For they were it's only hope. The life he was content with, the life that brought him joy was gone. he was forced to become what humanity feared—hate.

He could no longer do what made him happy. He could no longer be what he was created for. Love was no longer a priority in this world. Hate was. Death was. The damned was, and that was the new role he was forced to take. With father now gone he and his siblings all had to take on new roles to keep the world going. Some were lucky with what they were given, others got the short end of the stick.

As time passed, he grew use to his duties, but he still remained unsatisfied. He missed seeing the pleasure in humans. He missed the the endless joy in them. Now his only gaze and glances are that of agony and hate.

His new ruling sent him into a depression to say the least. His glow was the first to leave him, then it was his smile, what followed behind that was a dark path. He lost his will to care. All he came to know was his new ruling, and he loathed it, but he didn't have a choice in the matter. This is how it had to be. This is how he had to be.
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"My king, there is another soul waiting to be judged" Geneva informed me as she stood in the door way of my bedroom. I waved her off annoyed that I was even bothered in concern of a wretched soul. There all wretched, all come to suffer in supposed hopes to end the pain. But the truth to it all, pain does not cease; There isn't a medication, a drink, or a another being that can cure the pain. For it does nothing but suppress it. The many decades I have spent torturing these wretched, wretched souls I have learned this lesson.

      I had risen from the bed that accompanied me within hours of sleep putting on my attire most appropriate for ruling. Huffing in the process, I exited my room approaching my throne. When I finally took my seat, the soul was thrown at my feet and his cries to be spared began. "Lucifer, please spare my soul! I can change my ways" he cried. I flinched at the name he called me. "Stop. My name is not what you call me. I am nothing of the sort, I am your judge. That is what I will be unto you from now on". I spoke without care to hear him. " You killed your wife, beat and raped your daughter, and sent your sons off to war when you knew they were far from ready for such a sight. All for money and status". His soul was of evil, thus the reason he is here. "You really expect me to give an abomination like you another chance?". "Please, great judge. Spare me, I promise to change my ways" "if you could change your ways you would have done so a long time ago wretched soul. You deserve nothing but to feel the never ending pain, you deserve to suffer" my sharp words pierced his mind as I called for him to be taken to the pit.

I hated to be called that name. Upon earth Lucifer is a being of temptation and sin. A wicked force that causes harm upon others , I am nothing of the sort. I do my job and that is it, nothing more nothing less. I was not created to do such wickedness, but it seems my calling does not matter anymore. "I'm going back to my room. I don't want to be bothered" I told Geneva as I departed from the room. Geneva was my maid and sometimes friend when I needed her, but when I don't I suppose I do act like an asshole but I'm not always in the mood to care. After all, I'm king down here.

      Now back in my room I sat down on my bed and fumed with the covers on the bed. I can still remember my time as god of love. How I missed it. The smiles of joy and satisfaction, the appreciation towards me, and how it felt to know I bestowed happiness upon someone. Those are the days I wish to go back to. Ever since the war between my brothers and sisters against father not only has my life changed, but everyone as well.

Some of my siblings loved their new rulings, other didn't mind it, but me, I despise this job. I hate it with a passion. I am spit upon by the very ones who'd praise the very ground I hovered over. The reminisce of it all angered me. It pisses me off that I end up here of all places. I'd give anything to be anyone else. Chaos, revenge, fortune, lust! I hadn't noticed, but my breath was now rapid and I could only now feel the deep wounds I was creating with my fists. I released them allowing a bit of blood train down both my palms. I need something before I break. I need a quick fix.

     "Geneva!" I called out. I waited a few minutes until her footsteps could be heard. "yes my king?" She asked. "Bring me a doxy" I commanded. Within moments one stood before me. Her pretty blue eyes stared into my dark brown ones and her long brown locs hung at her waist that accompanied her white lace panties.

I am...I used to be the God of love, so I do need love. Though this is nothing of the sort, but I can only settle for what I can get. After all, who would love the ruler of the underworld?

My doxies are human, my brother certainly wouldn't approve of that but it is the only way I can have some sort of attachment to them—other then torture. They never fear me, they're never afraid of my power or ruling, rather they embrace it. They pretend to at least. Geneva tells them act as such but I can tell. I can always tell.

Sometimes I wonder, should I become what is spoken of me? Should I become this devil everyone is afraid of? My time as god of love was beautiful and fulfilling, but it is no more. I can't keep holding on to this gracious part of me, for it isn't me anymore. It can't be. I have to be harsh. I have to be mean. I have to be hateful. I have to be — Lucifer. This character, this being is who I must learn to personify if I'm going to make it. I'm loosing my sanity trying to hold on to what once was. I have to find a way to become him, before I will be no more.

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She was broken. A forgot pile of love and regret. A shattered glass no one even bothered to sweep up. She tried countless times to glue the shattered pieces together in hopes of restoration, but each time she failed. But what is broken can never truly be restored, so why deny the inevitable?