Chapter 79: Inner Voice, Part 6

He would never wake up again. That was the same as being in an induced coma. Being a vegetable and being dead differed in very little.

I'm not dead!

He verified that, albeit in a most unpleasant way, in the next instant, when Satan grabbed his left leg and pulled, ripping it clean off, as easily as if it were nothing but a toy. Blood sprayed like a sprinkler and his mind went blank from the pain.

Sam writhed on the ground, with just one leg, like a worm. A worm before a superior being. He tried to calm himself, to regain control of his breathing. It was okay, he hadn't really lost his leg. No, actually, the wounds that Satan had inflicted on him in that torture chair hadn't transferred to the real world.

When he woke up, carried by War, the same thing had happened here, so the same rules would apply. He knew this, or had to assume it to have something to hold onto. Amid the chaos, confusion, fear, and pain, tears welled up in his eyes, merely in reaction to the pain, and he didn't allow them to fall, but still felt deeply ashamed.

"Now you're mine, Sammy," Satan said, hissing, "for all eternity. I would have given you the world if you had just said yes, if you had let me in, fulfilling your purpose as a vessel, the only reason for your birth. It would have been so simple, but no, of course, you had to be stubborn, like your daddy. I suppose I should have seen it coming, but that doesn't make it any less unpleasant."

Satan ran a hand across his forehead and hair, a hand soaked in his own blood. But he didn't seem to notice it, neither with disgust nor to revel in the fact. It was simply a casual gesture.

How could it not be casual? He was looking at the king of a place of eternal torture. In the end, he obeyed the God he claimed to hate, torturing the souls that fell into hell, becoming nothing more than a cog in the game of the one above. But he supposed it was practically impossible to resist the temptation to spread pain.

Angel, demon, whatever you called it. They all had a human core, vicious and petty. An evil core.

And now Satan was looking at him with pure flames in the eyes of a child. A child who dedicated himself to tearing off butterfly wings, to dissecting frogs with pleasure, simply to see the entrails, simply to feel superior. He was nothing but a child.

As much as he hated to admit it, they had a certain resemblance.

The dead remained behind. They couldn't interfere between the boss and his prey, he supposed. Satan crushed him against the wall with a boot. The impact knocked the air from his lungs, left him coughing, gasping, as if missing a lung. His head was spinning. At this rate, he was going to pass out. And he greatly feared that even then he wouldn't wake up. Really.

"I suppose it's too late to change my mind and say yes to you," Sam asked, breathing with difficulty.

"No," Satan replied. "If you meant it, no. But I see the mockery in your eyes, a spark of resistance that for some reason still exists. When you're looking defeat in the eyes, the definitive end, the crossing where all paths lead. I suppose you're too stupid to realize just how screwed you are. But it doesn't matter. I feel like taking it out on you."

Find this and other great novels on the author's preferred platform. Support original creators!

"Look wherever you want, Sammy. There's nothing but old toys, boring for centuries. Years, months, days, who knows. I don't remember them all. I don't remember anyone. But you, I do remember. You do excite me. Maybe because you're my living reflection, but whatever the reason, I'm going to enjoy ripping out your guts and making them into a tie, literally, to start with."

Satan clicked his tongue, licked his lips. "And don't worry. You won't die from a trifle like that. Not here. This is hell, after all. What kind of tortures could we inflict if we had to worry about the prey dying? About their fragile human bodies. No, no, no. Here I can play with you however I please, Sammy. Here you'll always be my toy until I truly see defeat in your eyes and you look at me to say yes. 'I surrender my will, my autonomy, my body. I surrender it to be the vessel of a superior being.' As fun as it will undoubtedly be to torture you, what I most eagerly await is the arrival of that day. And you don't know how much, Sammy, you don't know how much. Just talking about it makes me more and more excited."

Satan kicked him in the face, knocking him to the ground. "Well, come on, let's begin. Crawl, little worm."

With both hands, he pulled at his right leg. He tore it off even more easily than the previous one, of course. And now he truly was a worm. Now Sam could only crawl along the ground, which burned too much, leaving only a trail of blood behind him, like slime.

Although it was the color of blood, red and vibrant, the image only brought to mind that of a worm crawling uselessly across the ground. A worm that didn't know when to give up. As useless as it was, Sam gave his all to crawl away from his enemy, as if he could somehow outrun Satan, or get anywhere at all.

A small piece of his conscious mind recognized that he was only in this situation because he had run out of options. That he had lost at that very moment. But very little remained of his conscious mind. What dominated was the primary desire for survival. Like a mass with a single impulse.

Sam reminded himself that as long as he didn't die, everything would be fine. He hadn't really lost his legs. Sooner or later, Christina, Violet, whoever, for God's sake, would wake him up and then he would be safe again in that mansion. Even though it was in the midst of reconstruction efforts, it was the safest place he knew. The furthest from this hell.

Satan stepped on his hand against the ground, pressing down. The bones cracked and suddenly he found himself unable to advance. Only able to lift his head and look at the creature that would be his end. Unable to react perfectly.

"Sammy, I already told you this is over. Where do you think you're going to get like this? Come on, man, at least accept defeat like a man."

Satan drove an arm into his torso from behind, piercing him cleanly and easily as always. The broken one was nothing but a broken toy. Now he felt the tips of his fingers briefly brush his heart. He felt as if it would stop.

In that same instant, it was hot. It was tremendously cold. There was extreme pain that bordered on unbearable. And also a numbness that made him feel as if he were already dead. A mix of conflicting, confusing sensations.

"In here I can do whatever I want with your body, but your mind is still out there. So, what will happen to it? Do you think your soul can withstand the stress, the trauma? The answer is no, of course. It will simply shut down and you'll be under my control forever. You wanted this, Sammy. You betrayed me. It's only your fault. If you're looking for someone to blame, look in the mirror. What the fuck did you expect?"

Somehow, with an arm in his chest and life decisively slipping away, Sam managed to gather a bit more courage. To draw upon his rage and hatred.

"You made me to be like you. In the powers, in the pride, in the ambition, in the lack of mercy. Without creating it, I came out a true son of yours. So, what the hell did you expect? What was your fucking plan? It's like Michael told me. Did you not expect to need my permission? That must be it. In any case, you're stupid."

Lucifer frowned. "Michael! Michael!"

The monster put his hand on his heart. And squeezed harder and harder.

"Michael! I'll show you that not even he can help you—"

Here, he was surely going to say. But then Sam opened his eyes. Back to the real world. With Violet's lips on his.

Inner Voice, Part 6: END