Chapter 67

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Within the depths of Seth's own mind, he became a younger reflection of himself sitting in an abandoned, darkened, gloomy room where he eternally hugged himself from the horrors that the real world is capable of inflicting upon anyone who had the chance to be born in it.

His nightmare was dark and dank, lit only by a few flickering bulbs on the ceiling. The floor and walls were made of specialized steel, like some kind of prison cell. There were many pieces of furniture and debris scattered across the ground, indicating there were people here once before.

In the end, none of this matters to him when he is simply too exhausted beyond repair; life filled with nothing but suffering and obstacles is too much for a fourteen-year-old boy. "People will keep hurting me regardless of what I do," whispering in a shaky voice as his body trembled in fear. "It doesn't matter if they're humans or monsters; everyone wants me dead."

"All of them want to hurt me; that is all there is to it in my life." Memories of others betraying or lying to him were like sharp daggers piercing through his heart. "What is the point of living if it is filled with nothing but despair?" Questions himself about the purpose of keeping his life together.

It doesn't matter what others think or how he should live; nothing else is of importance when all his efforts are fruitless in the end. "Is there any meaning to keep fighting in a world where humans are incapable of thinking straight?" he continues to vent his problems to the point of wanting to die.

Don't get him wrong; Muriel had shown him the good parts of everything, including humanity altogether. However, he is only human, and this negative side of humanity is always the darkest one. It is simply because Seth can't avoid or ignore this side, even if he doesn't want to face it head-on.

"Why can't everyone just get along?"

Isn't it too hard to understand what that concept means? Where are violence and hatred not always the answers? He doesn't see why so many want to inflict pain on others, whether they are just or unjust, simply because of some higher moral compass, their sense of justice, or whatnot.

What is the point of hurting others when they are contributing to the cycle of suffering instead of talking to them and fixing the problem to prevent future horrors? He doesn't get it; it is just confusing to comprehend, and he is too tired of even trying to understand his species.

It all returns to nothing; every action he takes is for naught; his effort is meaningless; and everything will always lead to a dead end. Even if he manages to survive, what comes next? He has no idea because it's so tiresome to try to play the hero in his story.

Whenever he tries to make something meaningful, it just keeps letting him down after a new problem arrives in the situation, and each time, it gets worse and worse until everything falls apart. It feels like the universe is punishing him or everyone for their lack of reasons.

Perhaps Asmodeus was right about God; everything seems too cruel; perhaps that is why they suffer every day. "Everything is going to hell," he muttered bitterly to himself, unable to take the loneliness and challenges that his faith has forced upon him. "Why can't God ever listen to me when I pray?"

He used to believe that God listens; that is what his old pastor told him. It is a matter of presence and belief that he is there. However, the heavenly father never physically appears or talks to Seth. All he ever got was made-up thoughts of this all-powerful entity's existence.

There is sadness in his heart, wanting to end it all and leave everything behind. "God, why don't you show yourself?" Calling out the only hope he has ever believed in, "Where are you?" His voice became weak as tears flowed out of his eyes. "Where are you?" He pleaded in desperation.

Not a single reply or appearance has come from the celestial being, leaving the poor teen more devastated by his own hopelessness. "I want to stop feeling like this," he sobbed, burying his head in his knees. "Just say something, dammit!" Screaming in the air, demanding answers to his cries.

No response; only darkness and silence welcomed him back into the endless void of his subconscious. A part of him still hoped that there would be a miracle that would happen at any given moment. Yet, at the same time, he is more skeptical than he usually is.

He had become afraid—afraid of being alone, of being rejected—and now God isn't even helping him at all anymore. Everything is slowly slipping away from his grasp. He feels that there is no hope left in his life anymore and that there is no longer any reason to continue living.

Death—how much he wants to die now, to be reunited with his loved ones. Nothing mattered anymore. He is ready to give up his life for good; he has suffered enough pain and sorrow in life, and now is the time to find a way to end this once and for all.

Glancing at the ground for anything sharp, luck seemed to be on his side at this time when he saw a broken piece of glass shard laying inches near him. Shakily raising his right arm, he slowly reached for the shard, using the last bit of his strength to grab it with his fingers before dragging it back to him.

"It might be painful," he reminds himself of what he is about to do as he stares at the piece of glass with cold eyes, "but death is way better than being alive," resolving himself to cut the tendons of his wrists that will take a while to bleed out before succumbing to eternal sleep.

Yes, this is for the best, for him and his sanity, to escape from reality itself. He doesn't care if he goes to hell for this; this is better than being cruelly born into a world he never asked for; it is for the best that he leaves before causing more trouble for others and himself.

Seth inhaled before exhaling. "Let's do this," he told himself while shakily gripping the shard, preparing to carefully slice his wrist. However, before he could even slice the vein, a flash of light suddenly appeared in front, blinding him temporarily as he dropped the glass shard.

As the light slowly dissipates, he finally sees something unexpected: another him wearing the exact clothes and appearance of his current, younger self, while pity and compassion show on his face. It was quite strange for him to see himself like this.

Staring at him, he asks, "Who are you?" Demon? Angel? Spirit? Deity? He does not care anymore; none of these terms are starting to affect him, for what he is seeing is abnormal for the human eye to witness. "Why do you look like me?" Speaking with confusion at the image.

The double calmly sits down with crossed legs. "I'm the manifestation of your ego," he said softly while smiling at Seth's disbelieved expression. "In a sense, I'm the representation of your personality, conscious, identity, willpower, and...hope," whispers his last word.

Seth didn't respond to this, unsure if the manifestation was merely messing with him. "And why are you here?" He questioned the self-consciousness of his person: "What are you trying to accomplish by appearing before me in a time like this?" Pressing on the question while maintaining a firm gaze.

Smiling back, "I know killing those men contributed to your increasing hopelessness," he began explaining to the original, "allowing them to consume you as punishment for crimes you never committed, which resulted in your going deeper into the abyss than keeping fighting back."

Eyes widened in shock at what he was hearing. "How do you?" he stuttered, baffled by this reveal. "How did you?" For a moment, he was terrified of this knowledge, feeling vulnerably attacked that someone had known what he was hiding. "I didn't kill them!" Denying the truth about murdering anyone.

Gazing in sympathy, "I'm a manifestation of your ego," repeated the apparition, "I know what you do," reaffirming it with the same words as before, "and I know you are capable of doing the right thing," reassuring the boy by lightly putting his hand on his shoulder.

Twitching with irritation, "do the right thing," angrily scoffing at the advice given to him, "I'm a murderer! Even if it is self-defense, I destroyed life that will never come back," pushing back the hand from his shoulders, "and God is responsible for everything!" He placed his own fingers at his hair, digging the scalp while looking down with a sorrowful look.

"I put all my trust and belief in God and tried to smile in the hardest of times," revealing his thoughts and feelings about his religion as a whole, "but did he ever save me?" Snarling in fury, "When I needed him?! Did he ever answer my prayers? Only my mother did, but she defeats the purpose!" Blood from the scratches leaked through his fingers.

"All God does is sit and watch," continuing to yell out his emotions, "he never intervenes nor does anything as everyone is being tortured and killed like pigs! They scream for his assistance, yet the only thing the All Mighty has ever done is absolutely nothing!" Now pulling out small clumps of hair in rage, "When will he help us? When will he finally save us?"

Heavy, loud breaths escape from his mouth in a repeating motion. The frustration from everything is consuming his mind and heart. "Just when will all of this madness end? I just...I just..." He cannot take this anymore; it is too much for him to handle. "I want all of this to end," his voice became weaker as he nearly choked up by the strong urge to cry more.

Silence enveloped the area; his breaths were the only source of sound he could hear. Glancing up at his doppelganger, the young teen was met with a sad and melancholic stare. For a moment, he thought he saw someone else in him.

"I'm sorry to hear that, Seth, really, I am," the double apologized," but remember the words you had said after confronting that demon?" Alluding to Asmodeus, "you will find the truth of God by yourself," he quoted, "meaning there is more to the Heavenly Father than meets the eye, isn't that right?"

Seth drifted his eyes somewhere else before finally sighing, "Yes, I haven't forgotten about that." Sitting up straight with arms hugging his knees once more, he lowered his head and said, "But it doesn't explain why I killed those men," guilt still tormenting his heart and mind for his actions.

Frowning at this, the other man said, "Think of it like this: is it evil to defend yourself from evil?" He proposed the question to the original: "The people who died are responsible for their fate; you shouldn't blame yourself for being the cause of their deaths," shaking his head with a pitiful look. "If anyone is responsible for their demise, it would be themselves who couldn't foresee their fate."

Raising his eyes, he said, "But still! I killed them! If I had talked to them, then maybe things would be different." Defending the reasoning of his beliefs, "I was able to resolve things differently if I just stayed to reason with them or use violence as a last resort."

His doppelganger shakes his head in response, "But it didn't; they attacked and you defended." He then refutes the statement, "The world is not always black and white; sometimes there are situations where words can't fix things, even if they are petty or simple." correcting the notion of using murder, "it isn't your fault, but you are kind to feel guilt when many victims in similar circumstances wouldn't feel a thing in having revenge for those who wrong them," reassuring the original, "which is why they are dead and you are still alive."

Listening to the words that echoed in his mind, "kind but naive," muttering of his own kindness that will often be his downfall, "so is violence always the option then? Is killing people always the solution to my problems? " Expressing his conflict with violence, "Am I a bad person for what I did?" He wondered what kind of person he was.

Smiling in understanding, "Killing is always the option; violence is a tool that helps to protect what you hold dear or love," the manifested persona clarified to the original as he gently placed his hand on the boy's right shoulder. "Life and death or peace and violence is always the result, one of which you don't always control," the manifestation consoled. "You are not a bad person for what you have done; just don't be hard on yourself and try to do better for yourself and others," speaking with comforting words.

Calming down, Seth inhaled before releasing a steady breath. "Alright..." He muttered in acceptance of this as he nodded, "Thank you," expressing his gratitude when he felt his hope being restored thanks to this conversation that occurred between him and the manifestation of his ego.

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