I was roused to my senses by the smell of rancid meat, and met with an endless nothingness. The only thing I could use to know I was conscious was the smell, and the strong desire to instill fear unto others.

'Where... where am I?'

I truly couldn't see anything. There are no pearly white gates, nor is there a pit of flames and screaming souls. It made me wonder if death was meant to feel like this, like nothing. I admit that the smell did give me a mild discomfort, but not because I was repelled by it. The smell just made me feel like... it was above me, maybe something similar to seniority?

However, that doesn't make much sense. How could a smell be my senior, and how could it make me feel inferior to it, as if it was my employer, or some kind of idol? Also, this feeling, this desire to terrorize a living-being. That thing that haunted me, this must be similar to its desires, but, what is that supposed to mean for me? If I was to believe this desire is mine, and not some kind of lingering trauma, then, I'd have to be one of its kind.

Well, whatever 'its kind' really is. That is impossible though, I'm a human who has been unable to be reached by God's helping hand on Earth, therefore God must feel some type of guilt for the life I've had to suffer through. Though I didn't tell that man I first thought was an exorcist, who actually must've been the thing haunting me, I've prayed at God's churches, cried reading and spreading God's word, but I've never received help. Despite that, I might still have been abandoned by God, even in death?

[Time Passes In The Never-Ending Nothingness]

'Some savior,' I've repeated these words, or something similar, in my mind, each syllable filled with animosity towards God for hours, possibly days, but I have no way to tell the exact time elapsed.

Maybe something heard me in this never ending nothingness, and decided to respond to my hate, and to my desires, setting a fire to my soul. Whatever it was, could it be mocking me? Or, is this some kind of 'divine' judgement for questioning God's actions? Whatever it was, it felt familiar.

'W-What is this?!' I could only question the nature of the heat as it spread across my 'body', engulfing all that I am.

'Why are you doing this to me, huh?! If that's you, God, or one of your angels, why have you abandoned me... DO YOU THINK THIS WILL COVER IT UP?! Huh,' the pain got worse when I asked why I was being burned, but when I showed my hate towards God, it hurt a little less.

I continued to question the flames nature, and the flame continued to burn brighter, tearing layers away from my body, 'Could it be?'

It really does seem that the more I questioned the flames, the more intense they began to burn, but if I slandered God, the flames dimmed. So, possibly, if I stop worrying about the flames... However, not worrying about such an intense pain is easier said than done. I can't even describe what it feels like to be slowly peeled, maybe an onion might share similar sentiments. Luckily, hating God is easy to do.

Jesus isn't even his son, it's just his other name, he only claims Jesus is his son to throw himself a pity party, he sacrificed himself, not his son, 'Your just a fucking sly piece of shit, the pain from having to give up on your child... it hurts more than having a few nails driven through you!'

I'd know, because I'm not the only person in my family that God abandoned, or took away. I got engaged when I was twelve, our parents were close, and our families were both wealthy. It was a bit awkward at first, as we didn't know each other well, and had nothing to talk about. Her name was Alice.

We slowly opened up to each other though, and she'd quietly talk to me while moving a bit closer to me, "U-uh... what d-do you like to do? I do a little dancing... Huh? Uh, um, no I've n-never done that..."

She asked the first question, her voice was quiet and gentle, though her nervousness caused her to stutter. When I first heard her talk, I was instantly convinced that she was the one for me. Maybe it was the hormones going through me at the time, but I truly thought she would be the one for me, for all of my life.

As we grew more comfortable, her gentle voice became louder, her advances bolder, and over the years, she had completely opened up to me, "Really? Haha, you must've been so nervous, you poor thing..."

By seventeen, she confided in me every chance she got, always wanting to be around me, and the same went for me. Every time she was about to talk, she'd coyly move her golden hair behind her ear, a sense of longing coming from her blue eyes. Our love grew passionate, kissing and cuddle sessions were not uncommon. As opposed to before, she would now openly lean against me, her fair pale skin rubbing against my tattered tanned skin, roughened up from all the times I tripped when trying to get away from the thing haunting me. Whenever I was terrified, I would cuddle up to her, trying to calm myself down.

The moment I turned eighteen, we couldn't be more excited, having planned our wedding long ago, we quickly got married, our rings shining as brightly as our love. It was also the time that the thing got more violent, but while its violence grew, our love blossomed into a flower bud. She was pregnant, and it was the best and worst news in my life.

'A father, I'm going to be a father!'

'Is it safe to have a kid... with this thing around? It has gotten pretty violent lately.'

'It's worth it! I'll protect my baby no matter what!'

'But... Alice...' Alice has always had a pretty weak constitution, that is one reason why our families wanted to engage us.

It was to keep us close to them. She gets sick easily, and her body is fragile.

'Will she be able to handle it...' About nine months had passed since I had gotten the news, and we were now in the hospital, Alice laying on a hospital bed.

Her hair stuck up in all directions, the pain evident on her face, but she must've noticed the complicated look I had when I was looking at her, because she looked up at me with a smile that seemed to say 'It will be okay.'

However, that's when 'it' whispered to me, "Both of them will..."

"NO!" I screamed out, filled with anger, and sadness.

Laying in a new hospital bed, out of my sight, was a blonde woman, one who had experienced a complication. The doctor's had to perform an emergency c-section, unfortunately, neither her baby, or herself, made it through the operation. The pitying hand on my shoulder was shrugged off as all of the glass in the building shattered, and finally, now I realize 'it' didn't shatter the glass. I did. I'm a Demonic Entity, one that was trapped in the body of a baby boy due to a rookie mistake, and that man, they weren't a Demonic Entity, but they were a real exorcist.

I've simply been denying my own existence this whole time. That's why I subconsciously decided to not mention the glass shattering the hospital as an example to the exorcist. It would've given me away, even though he still seems to have figured it out based off of the fact that my human body is now dead after just one encounter with him. I died, was born again as a human boy, then died, and was reborn once more as a Demonic Entity.

"Ah..." I breathed out, realizing this nothingness was one of the gateways to hell, the smell really was my senior, and that I really do have a body.

This heat, these flames, they were simply my strength. The same strength that terrorized me, and shattered the hospital windows. I could now feel my hands clench, and lungs expand, as I decided what I would aim to do from now on.

"I'll kill God."