A devil's mind

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The dark clouds complemented the cold winter wind and the heavy drops of water that pommeled everything beneath them to the point of equality. The stuffy damp texture in the air of my one room apartment made every attempted move hard and straining. Out of nothing a sound mingled with the rain against the old window. 12:00PM the watch on my wrist squeaked, I silenced it with a push on the center most button and as if deja vu I was again alone with my thoughts. Not much had changed in the last two hours, I was still wet, clammy and it was the same thought that continued to torment my mind. “Today I got fired…” I said to myself, and no matter how much I drank that wouldn't change. I was dreary and beaten and done with life, but more than anything I was angry, angry at the world, the people, every living organism could be damned and I would not care


I finished my fourth glass of whiskey and relaxed with a cleansed palate and a burning throat, I was just about ready to pass out when movement occurred in the pocket of my damp black pants. I took my time with picking up, nothing that couldn't wait I thought, but eventually after the 4th buzz I mustered just enough effort to pick up and disregard whatever the person had to say.
“Hello.” I said in a  monotonous voice,
“How are you doing Doug?” A familiar voice spoke softly, nearly as sad as my own.
Speak of the devil, my boss has called to humiliate me even more, I thought. He of course now owned the company that I had poured the last twenty two years of my life into, and now that I was a legal liability I was no longer needed.
“Sorry David ,I’m busy, tomorrow alright?” I mumbled as this was the longest sentence I could compile without rambling on about how much I despised him and what he stood for.
“Please Doughlan, can't we speak? Meet me at the christmas tree in the square?”
And here we go, I thought, he now wanted to smooth things out with me in hopes gaining another “friend”. He was always good at manipulating people and their feelings, that’s why he was a excellent lawyer I thought.
“Christ David it’s passed 12. Go to hell!”That sentence lingered in my mind for a few seconds. And it satisfied me to the point where a smile almost formed on my face.
“Please... “ He pleaded with an underlying agenda of the devil. I guess he still has some use for me.
“Fine David, lets meet and if you're not there in 15 minutes I will leave” I said, trying to sound as assertive as possible. I hung up before he could poison my mind with his filthy lies. I did not know why I agreed to meet him, did I just want to shout at him? Perhaps I wanted to use him? Or maybe I wanted to hurt him? I did not know, but I put on a dry shirt that funnily enough also had a musty smell to it, a dry pair of trousers and my black shoes that were as blank as could be.

I left within five minutes and began the cold desolate walk towards my demise. That is what it felt like anyway. There was no man in sight, just the lamp posts flashing their white lights onto the pavement, so much so that it reminded me of a 60’s movie. The rain complimented my mood and the underlying feeling of dread that was creeping around my mind. My walk along the footpath took me under the apartment gutters in hopes of not getting too cold or wet. I contemplated everything about my last twenty years of work in just a fifteen minute walk, everything felt dead as if lost in time. I almost felt calm, yet heat and sweat was still building up underneath my jacket and the hair on my arms were standing so straight that they may as well have been frozen. I walked onto the road and entered the town square, the heavy rain that once was had turned into little flakes of moisture as if a calm before a storm. I saw him sitting next to the extravagant christmas tree that apparently was facing a power outage as the lights had faded to complete darkness. I slowly approached him as anger again filled my stomach, he looked up from the run down old bench he was resting on. He rose to see me eye to eye and said “How’s it going Doughlan?”. His smirk and relaxed attitude really pissed me off
“Hey David…” I said with lack of feeling or emotion
“Doughlan please don’t give me that, I just want to talk”
“You had the chance to speak to me at work? Or maybe that would make people question your leadership.”
“Listen Doug! I came here in good faith and in hopes to be able to explai…”
“EXPLAIN!” I shouted enraged
“That’s it, go home you’re drunk I will speak with you some other time…” He said changing his tone completely trying to take the moral high ground which I am assuming helped him boost his feeling of superiority to all other beings on this earth.
“You asked me to come? Now you want me to leave”
“I asked you to come, not some aggressive, drunk projection of you. You do take after your father”
This was the last straw, everything snapped after this. Years of negligence and suppression spurted out from me as I jumped him.

We fought, and it was a long fight at that. We both fell, however only I got up. I saw the blood, a lot of it, however the blood on the pavement was not mine. He was unconscious, my adrenaline was rushing and my anger had turned into dread. I did not know what to do with myself. Thoughts of him being dead and myself being put in prison rushed through my mind, everything was spiralling into chaos. I felt claustrophobic and exposed, paranoia bothered me to the point that I almost thought I heard sirens in the distance. I ran as fast as my legs would carry me and my lungs would allow me to. I ran in the door, I slammed the old oak against the door sill so hard it felt like it was going to break in half. This time the musty old air of my one room apartment didn’t bother me. I tried to get my thoughts together, I knew the ins and outs of the law. At best I would be charged with manslaughter with hopes of parole. I didn’t want to spend my next 30 years of my life in jail.

I felt uneasy, the adrenaline in my blood made me feel sick as a dog. I puked, everything was burning, I looked for my anxiety pills in the medicine cabinet over the sink in my old bathroom. Time slowed down the second I spotted the bottle of Xanax standing idle on the middle shelf. I knew what I was going to do, I opened and heated up my Macallan 18 scotch over my gas cooker and brought out my favourite crystal glass from my mahogany cabinet where I stored some of the finer things in life. I added lemon to the whiskey and brought it over to the living room table, right across from my radio and my one speaker. I would not leave this world in a panic I thought. Everything clicked for me, I turned on the radio and found the most relaxing music I could dream of, Mozart if I was not mistaking. I layed back into my big green arm chair, and began writing this, everything that had happened on this night, this dark december night. If you are reading this I have already opened the lid and swallowed every white pill that the orange container had to offer, I have likely finished the glass of golden liquid that I see standing on the table just two feet in front of me. And I have likely left the world the way I wanted too, with no shouting, no crying, no screaming just the sound of music in my ears and enjoying something I liked.






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