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He clutches his stomach and leans over. “W-what?” he stutters.
Lucifer cackles as my father can’t keep his form intact. Different feelings and emotions clearly fight for dominance inside of him. I see them...lust, envy and wrath from what I can recognize, through my own pain.
What in the hell is this…his sins? All of them are fighting with this bastard. I see gluttony as my father belches up more sins. The flames fan higher inside and around me. Fuck…so hot, and the rage is burning within. I am infuriated, watching this man I share DNA with getting some sort of high on my pain. He is gonna sell us out, each of the sons he doesn’t even claim, with his seven deadly sins so he can tame his own torment?
“No! I won’t let you do this!” I try to yell but my words are muted. I rage on, regardless. “Look here, you sick demon fuck! You knocked up my mother, and these other women, for what! You dare sacrifice us to the fallen!” I know he can hear me, but he is getting off on this. The man might as well be jerking off on this high.
“Stop it! You won’t take me! You won’t take my seed! You won’t!”
“The pain will be over shortly,” Lucifer speaks with certainty. “I have a mission for you on your trip up top. I need more of me in the world, and you’re just the demon to deliver.”
I shake my head and ball my fists at my side as I throw back my head and scream!
“Over my dead body…”
* * *
“Okay,tell me how that makes you feel. Tell me what it makes you want to do?”
“What?”
I blink at the woman sitting across from me and then look around the room where I sit. I’m no longer physically in what felt like the pits of hell. My body is no longer in excruciating pain.
I whip my head back and look at the woman, remembering why I had the memory that haunts me in the first place.
“You asked me to tell you that story, so I did. I don’t need to talk about how it makes me feel. Isn’t it self-explanatory? You asked, I answered, end of story.”
“Whoa there, killer. Let’s bring it down a notch or two.” The woman looks at me, and I narrow my gaze. She looks familiar, but I can’t quite place her—an older, black woman, maybe in her 60s; she has a pen placed behind her ear and a notebook on her lap, and she pins me with a similar glare. Who the hell is this woman, a therapist or something?
I hear my mom’s words from my dream.
‘Seek the help you need to break this that has you bound. You must do this with a broken spirit and a contrite heart!’
Did I finally break down, bite the bullet and seek that help?
“Phoenix...you are so angry. Tell me why. What does this curse on you and your brothers say about you? What do you need to do to break it?”
“What does itsay? What the hell kinda question is that?” I stand and start to pace the room. “It says it’s pretty fucked up I’m cursed with my father’s sin, and I even have to find a way to break it!”
“Okay, explain to me how you are going to go about doing that?”
“I’m trying.”
“Are you? You just seem pissed and agitated to me, with no real plan in mind.”
I huff and turn on her with a sneer. “You said it yourself, Doc. All this anger, he did this. He… made a deal with the devil on me and my brothers—those bastards.”
The therapist nods as she chuckles. “So, who are you mad at, him, them, you, me? What is happening right now? Would you like to calm down and explain, or rage against the world? Either way, we have an hour, and I get paid, regardless.”
I huff, taking in what she said.
Who am I mad at?
Okay, she is making a point. Fuck her and that point, though. But I guess I owe it to myself, and my daughter, to figure out what is burning my biscuits.
Chapter 1
From what I can remember about my life early on, I wanted to love my father. But as time went on, he went from being my father to being only the ‘sperm donor’ to me. It seems like the older I got, the worse he got.
