December 1 20XX

The hallway light pokes through the open bathroom door. Is it worth it to shower? He’s not gonna predict me coming at him tonight right? Do I even want to? I’m brushing my teeth and staring into the mirror as these thoughts run through my head. I check my phone while I’m brushing my teeth, Katherine and I have been talking again. She reached out first actually, she missed me too much and I was too weak to keep away, but it hasn’t helped; I don’t like long distance relationships. I haven’t told Katherine about what happened to (REDACTED) I look into the mirror as I put down my phone without messaging back Kat, she’s concerned and wants to call me, she feels like something is wrong and she’s right but I don’t want her to know. I don’t recognize myself anymore, which is good. The mirror shows back my reflection, long dirty strands of what is normally beautiful (to me) thick brown hair that runs to my shoulder blades, a slight belly, light brown skin, residual muscle mass from a gym craze a few months ago, soft cheeks covered by a patchy unshaven mug, thick sunglasses that I put my prescription lenses into and finally, my eyes, the same as my mom’s. My irises are undeniably black with slight tints of red, they used to be brown but at some point they just became this color, Katherine would stare endlessly into them in the dark, my little nightlights she’d call them. In the low light something in them shines at me, I can’t quite place what it is, maybe fear? I take a razor to my face and a minute later I’m clean shaven, I see him staring back at me and I feel that familiar hate again.

It’s only 10:40 P.M. I think the phone screen also said it was like, November? I spit into the bathroom sink, turn the bathroom light on fully and I’m already in the hot shower before I can even track what I’m doing. The shower takes forever cause of how terrible my hair is but when it’s all said and done, I look fresh as fuck (ignoring all the brown muck that I washed out and the half hour I spend brushing).

What do you put on when you’re going to go kill a family friend? Well he wasn’t my friend, and he had good punch at his parties, but he has what I need. I don’t think I’m going to kill him, I don’t want to at least. What to wear for tonight though? A comfortable but old pair of Levi’s and a shitty button up blue shirt should work. What would the jacket be? It is cold outside. I gave away all my excess jackets to Goodwill three weeks ago and all I’m left with are ones I like. I settle on swapping the blue button up for a black sweater that I don’t care about. Black levis are the perfect pants for premeditated murder, along with steel toed hiking shoes.

The cold air outside helps me sober up after the last fews weeks of being drunk. My hands shiver relentlessly as I carry the cold short sword and steel shield, they’re cold from being in the fridge and I’m, well I don’t want to say how I am. Is it really murder if the person I’m killing deserves it? Yes, but at least it makes me feel a bit better about doing it. I stand beside my car for a long while, the charcoal and remnants of the burned villa filling my nostrils with a smoky scent, giving me a bit of time to pause and when I’m ready, I get in the car. The drive feels unbelievably slow. Silence hangs over me as I drive.

Why am I driving in the middle of the night to kill an old man? What brought me here? I guess the easy answer is revenge. I could say they killed someone I love and I wouldn’t be wrong. I don’t know who killed (REDACTED) exactly, but I do know who would know and it’s William.

(REDACTED) liked The Smiths, when we would talk over the phone for our six hour conversations she’d play them for me. They sounded so melancholic and purple, it just made me fall in love with her even more. Now she wasn’t (REDACTED) anymore. (REDACTED) who loved The Smiths, World of Warcraft, Yoga, and singing, now she was just gone. (REDACTED)’s mom doesn’t even know she’s dead, the whole world doesn’t even know she’s dead. It’s taking everything to hold back the tears as I’m driving down the highway and right now the gods want her to be a dead deer on a one lane road that everyone ignores as they go on their way. I have to make the driver accountable for this, because her name wasn’t Jane Doe, it was (REDACTED). But this is where I start, with the fake god I’m driving down to kill tonight.

William isn’t like every other god though, he’s old, like geriatric old. He's weaker, slower and older than the average god, but what he lacks in strength he makes up for in connections and wealth. He’s also a strange fellow, one everyone will miss for all the wrong reasons.

The old coot lives in a mansion. It’s a huge estate surrounded by the woods. It’s such a weird place that he doesn’t even have a gate, you can just drive in, which I don’t cause that would be dumb.

I park a half mile up the road from his house. I sheath my sword in a leather sheath Farth gave me when I turned 17 and carry the shield in my left hand down the stretch of road. I walk into my billowing breath with every step and feel nothing as I march in towards the dark. The air smells dry but full of the life of the wilds around me, it’s dark so the most I can do to help is to stare straight and focus. But no matter how much I try, all I can feel is the weight of my sword on my waist and the ink blots in front of me. I calm my breathing just as Farth trained me. I’m 15 again, terrified of my brothers, ready to take a stand and even die in the process. I look forward and see nothing, I’m in his domain and I’m absolutely dead if I’m not careful. Was I careful when I was 15? No and I survived that but I was fighting two siblings who had as much experience in battle as I did, which was none. This old fuck has been around the world and then some. I have to be careful. The last time I fought a god I was fueled by 15 years of pent up anger and hate towards my brothers, and fear for my father, but right now? I’m not really sure why I’m here, not if I’m being completely honest.

The entrance lies open and waiting for me, the house stands massive and booming. Looking up at it I feel the presence of something dangerous. The feeling remains as I walk up those same tall steps I walked up when I was 15, but this time I turn the knob of the front door. It’s not locked. Fuck. William is waiting, or he’s just sleeping. I walk forward, wiping sweat off my brow as I do. The front door opens into a massive lounge and on either side of the lounge are hallways leading to the rest of the house. Massive ceiling windows let in the shadows of the trees and moonglow, I can’t recognise the layout from six years ago, it’s like I’m in an entirely different house. I try to calm my breathing as best as I can. I’m palming the sword on my waist with my left hand while I walk down the right side hallway. Crik crek the noise my shoes make on the wood. I have to be careful, William is as old as my father and at one point, was as powerful. Even if he’s old that doesn’t mean that he’s weak, a voice in my head whispers to me. My heart races as I walk through the corridor. The cold and the wind whistles and wanes and sends shivers down my spine. I have to remain calm, he’s supposed to be old and near to geriatric right? He’s only around because he knows things right? I try to tell myself that but in the darkness I can faintly make out claw marks on the walls. I swallow a rock. It feels like I’ve been walking down this hallway for forever, I turn around and behind me I see the same blackness I saw moving forward. It feels like I’ve been walking in circles, standing still I see more claw marks on a door as it slowly opens.

“YoU, ARe YourF ATHER’s SOn ARThur! His fear is his inheritance” The voice seems to come out both whisper thin and mountains tall. I stop breathing as the fear breaches the walls of my defenses. That was when he came through the door.

A 6’4 wispy old man with a smile that curves like a slice of watermelon and shining yellow eyes looks down on me. I clench my jaw shut to hold back the scream as I step back. A hand grips the door, his long nails rattles on the dark oak, a slow creaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaak echoes unlike any sound I had heard in that house before. He sniggeres as he pushes through.

My hand finds the short sword, the want to survive overpowers the fear that had been gripping at me. I close my eyes, turn around and kick the door behind me to create space. The door bursts wildly as my leg strikes it, I follow through with a roll. I hear a willowing cry slash through the air of where I was. Instinctively I raise my shield with my left hand to guard and hold my short sword at my side ready to strike. I back up into the room to try and create space between me and him. There’s no window and no natural light coming in. Looking forward I just see his eyes alive in the darkness, before I know it they’re gone. I don’t see anything past or in the doorway, but I can hear the tapping of his long nails on the wall. And his voice, he's taunting me. He whispers terrible things, the sounds seem to come from all around me, from the walls, and floors. I taste blood in my mouth. In the fear I find focus, my breathing becomes calm for the first time since I stepped foot out of my car, my energy flows through and around me. It wraps around my hand and into my blade. It is part of my arm and I am part of my blade, just as I was taught.

William rushes into the room, his claws ready to strike. I launch myself around him. My eyes are locked onto his, we circle around each other, unsure of who is predator and prey. His shoulders are slouched as he walks and his claws scratch the wood, my hands are diamonds as they hold my wood and steel shield and sword. He has the range advantage, but I’m faster. This will be over quickly one way or the other. He flashes towards me, his claws coming down diagonally. I can barely bring my shield up to guard as the claw scratches under my eye, his other claw comes up the other way, iron meets flesh as his blades dig into my side. The pain overwhelms me for an instant, but I bring whatever strength I have to push off the claws on the shield, I bash his face with every bit of fear and anger I have left before I slip around and hamstring him with my short sword.

He shrieks before he drops to the dark wood flooring with a thump. I sit down exhausted against a wall far from him, I take off my glasses as tears stream down my face and into the scratch he left under my left eye. His blood seeps in between the wood paneling, he smells disgusting. He’s still screaming from the pain, and I’m the only one to hear him.

After a few minutes his screaming stops. I know that the sounds absorb every last drop of his anguish and I feel nothing. Or at least I force myself to. Eventually William laid quietly on the ground in a small pool of his blood, and I noticed, after my heartbeat stopped pumping in my ears, that the room had grown eerily quiet. William’s eyes shine upward into the dark room, and with my glasses on I can see how they’re lighting up the dust over him.

“Get up William. Or sit up, whatever, just get up. I want to talk,” I say to him, my voice coming out in a whisper. He drags with his claws to the wall opposite me, propping himself up.

He stares blankly and it feels like a bit of the light in his eyes has gone out. That’s when he speaks,“What do you want,” The words come out softer than I ever expected them to. His palms face up to the ceiling as he clarifies his question “What do you want to talk about?” I didn’t think he’d actually open up. Fuck.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why was I cursed to be this way?”

“To be human? Or to have the urge to kill an old man?”

“I’m not going to kill you. Your hamstrings are going to heal within the next week and I know you don’t need food to survive.”

“Is that what you’re telling yourself? I’m an old man, not as spry as one as old as your father and nowhere near as hardy, though I suppose I will survive, but there will be a lot of suffering. Though it appears that it may not be so lethal as the scratch I left you.” He’s right but I don’t want to let him know, guarding the winces and steadying my breathing as he speaks.

“I was prepared to kill you, but there are things I need to know. I need to know why. Why this shit even happened?”

“Why you attacked me? Only you know that.”

“I know you can see the future jackass, I know that you know everything, beyond whatever your power shows you. Every one of you evil fucks knows that you’re the one to go to when they fuck up enough to get normal people like me’s attention.”

“I didn’t know, perhaps I felt it, I’ve guarded myself against those visions, though it may be more apt to say I’ve blinded myself to it. There’s only so much suffering a man can hold onto. And my dear dead boy, you are not normal people, something you’ve known for a long time and something that will become clearer in the days to come.”

“What does that mean?”

“It’s the same reason when I stare at you I see your stupid father and why everyone of our supposed kind hates you, the lie of your existence.”

“What the fuck are you trying to say.”

“You will find out soon, and there are more important reasons as to why you are here I presume, not just for training? You have Farth if you want that, don’t need this old bag of bones Artur-” I cut him off

“Tell me about (REDACTED).”

“Oh. Her.” He grew softer as we talked, after a while it felt like I was talking to a grandfather I didn’t have, and with each passing minute my breath harshened and the pain emanating from the side he clawed into worsened. I couldn’t hide how bad I was, or how much pain I was in, and through the dark I could see the concern in his eyes. He told me what I needed to know, who did what, what he’s capable of, and how absolutely unprepared I am for what that monster is. William called him that, not me, “That poor girl didn’t deserve what happened and the windfall of everything would’ve led to a reckoning that maybe we deserve, but do not need. Humans don’t need to know how terrible we truly are.”

“Sorry about tonight.” I whisper.

“Don’t apologize. I am not without sin, I’ve killed 10 guilty men and 10,000 people that did not deserve it. I am the monster you think I am Artur. I have suffered and bled and done so many terrible things. I’ve done enough harm to deserve every bit of pain and anguish I have had to endure. But I’m done enduring, I’m done being alone and suffering every second that I am alive. I am done.”

“So just let two dead men enjoy each other's company” I said, my voice weak and filled with pain, He laughed at that. It was soft like the words he had said before. It was slightly off putting, whenever I saw him when I was still living with my family he always came off as hard and cold. An hour more went by of us talking. A lot was said, feelings that I thought had died years ago resurfaced and the brightness of William’s eyes betrayed the hard words we spoke to each other. It all felt like a blur, and so much longer than even I thought it could’ve gone. As we inevitably finished the conversation it felt as if we had spoken for centuries upon centuries, and almost with a sense of regret I say,

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me so soon young Artur,” With what remaining force he had he lunged forward, with his claws pointed, formed into a bloody crescent moon as he flew through the dark room. William's face was emotionless as he grabbed at my hand that held the sword. “You’re just like us God-Eater, and just like me, love’s gonna get you killed but pride’s gonna be the death of you.” he said solemnly as my steel blade entered his iron heart. I could feel his life leave him through the hilt of my blade. Thump, thump…thump...thump on the fourth beat he was gone.

As the light faded from his eyes, visions entered mine own, uncontrollable ones, a spiraling mess of light and color. Futures, pasts, memories and everything in between. Futures concurrently turning to the present, I saw all the collapsing, fleeting possibilities of endless lives, some of them even my own, so many visions that it completely overwhelmed me. I saw (REDACTED), my father, different days, rains and reigns and as it ended I found myself on the hallway floor, with my face firmly planted into the weathered wood. Then it began again and It takes everything to pull myself back to reality.

When I come to I can see clearly in the darkness, there’s blood all over my clothes, none of it is mine. The gashes aren’t there anymore and I feel better than I had in a long time. Wait, he said “God-Eater” what the fuck is a god- oh wait. Oh no. I can’t find the tears anymore as I stand up.

I walk out the front door and leave the old mansion to my car parked half a mile up the road. The dried tears stay on my cheeks. Each step feels heavier than the last. As I get to my car I wonder how I could never have known. I wonder how I’ll meet my eventual end. The thought runs through my mind as I carry myself up the dark path. When I reach my car the thought of my death overtakes me, curiosity and focus comes together and as I’m unlocking my car door a vision forms in front of me.

A sandstorm rages, it feels lonely and sad. I am clutching the hand of another man, whispering something into his ear. I am smiling with the same tears that are running down my face right now.

I whisper my last words to no one in particular before I get into the driver's seat of my car.

Why am I crying? Fuck.

I put my phone into the aux and play sad pulpy music as I drive home. The sun peeks through the mountains on my left “just to do it again” an old song plays. I make it half way up the highway before I can’t take it anymore. “You are the last drink I should have ever drunk” I stare at the last bottle of jack as I careen on the endless highway. I see her face clearly. Blue eyes that shine green in low light. Wispy brown hair, hook nose, high cheeks and a chin that juts out a bit. Memories of her overwhelm me as the bottle goes flying out of the passenger's seat window, smashing it as it goes. “You are the car crash I can see but I just can’t avoid '', (REDACTED) looks sad, even if there’s a smile on her face. “Like a film that’s so bad but I’ve gotta stay til the end (you are the habit that I can’t seem to kick)”. I pull off to the side and stare east I think, it’s still dark and I’m crying and miss all of them and want them but I can’t because I just fucking can’t. I lose my legs as I cough up a bit from the knives in my throat and throw up whatever was left in my stomach on the side of a nameless highway. For a long time I lay there, staring into the gray gravel, alone and when I’m ready, I get into my car. I turn the key in the ignition before lurching forward on the dusky, desolate road.