An interview with the devil
- Reads 223
- Votes 54
- Parts 4
MatureOngoing10m
Last published Sun, Oct 18, 2020
Ive done some bad things, some really diabolical things. Well, that's not entirely true, I get people to do the terrible things for me. Ive always had the power of manipulation, especially towards those who love me. Now I'm being punished for the crimes that I technically didn't commit. I am who I say I am despite what everyone says about me. I am not crazy. So here I am telling you the story that I share, with the devil.
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πππππ°ππ² |ππ+
ππ§ π°π‘π’ππ‘ π¬π‘π π¦ππ€ππ¬ π ππππ₯ π°π’ππ‘ ππ‘π πππ―π’π₯, ππ§π π©π«π¨π―ππ¬ ππ¨ ππ π°π¨π«π¬π ππ‘ππ§ ππ‘π π¦ππ§ π‘π’π¦π¬ππ₯π. . . . . . . . . . . We've all heard the tales of good and bad, the tales of innocent deceit and her hero, the tales that despite their nature, show us the beauty in contrast. But it's the tales of pure evil that get swept under the rug. The tales of deception, where cruelty is rewarded. The tales that have you questioning who the real villain of the story is. There's a simple philosophy to most thing in life; two wrongs π―π¦π·π¦π³ make a right. So what ensues when you put two of the worst kinds of people together? Loyalties transfer, lines blur, and hatred ignites complete chaos. She's cunning. ππ¦'π΄ π³πΆπ΅π©ππ¦π΄π΄. She's dangerous. ππ¦'π΄ π·πͺπ€πͺπ°πΆπ΄. She's evil. ππ¦'π΄ πΈπ°π³π΄π¦. Or so that's what we're told. The devil is always worse. But maybe, just maybe, she's the devil in disguise, playing his advocate... . . . . . . . . . . - πππ«π€ π«π¨π¦ππ§ππ - ππ§ππ¦π’ππ¬ ππ¨ π₯π¨π―ππ«π¬ - πππ«π«π’ππ π π¨π ππ¨π§π―ππ§π’ππ§ππ. -Complete
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My life has always been terrible. I was always bullied at school. I don't know why, it just seemed that people didn't like my presence. The guys would beat me up and I'd get in trouble when I defended myself, for the teachers never saw what they did. The girls would trick me, making me think they liked me and laughing at me because of it. I was always in the principle's office for one reason or another, but I wasn't a bad student. I actually got really good grades. To make matters worse, my mother wanted nothing to do with me. She'd lock me in the basement, sometimes for days, with no food or warmth. My father would then sneak down and beat me before raping me. So, naturally, I wanted to die. But, for some reason, I can't die. No matter what I do, I can't stay dead. The thing I want more than anything is far out of my reach. Why can't I just die? Warning: mention of rape, suicide, and abuse. Also, this is a boy's love story.
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