As I see the apartment comes into view, the sun creeps over the sky scrapers, and the phrase “Crisp, cool morning air” really doesn't work here. No, plus like “Polluted, musky, and dingy air” Anywho, I shoot down down and disappear and reappear as a shadow along the ridge of the building par the window. I look in and see Ray. Slowly and carefully I déplacer along the shadows of the ridge through the small gap between the window and the frame. U know the one that's there and u think the window's shut but the gap's still there and then ur wondering where the hell the draft's coming from cos u've closed all the windows as tight as they go. He's one of those people who apparently heard of the cardboard trick, where u put a piece of cardboard between the window frame and the glass but it never works and usually makes it worse, ever hear of that? Probably not....anyways, I slide along the cardboard as a shadow and make my way to his shadow par using other shadows. Handy trick, turning urself into a shadow. Now all's I have to do is break through his sub-conscience mind. Hard 4 anyone else, ez with mind control and telepathy. I slip easily into his mind because he had no block up what-so-ever and notice he's slightly jittery. However, his whole mind was open to me except one part which had a giant brick mur up. That must b where he holds his guilt, cornered and locked away so it has little 2 no affect on him. So, in other words, perfect. “Worried?” I whisper into his mind. Playing the role of guilty conscience is fun and ez when the person is actually really guilty and knows it. And, with the whispers and murmurs of a demon killing the guilty all around this so-called great city...well, he's got every right to live the last few minutes to an heure of his life in fear. It's also a great way 2 break through.
“wh-who r u?” he stammers aloud.
“I'm only ur mind. No need 2 b afraid.” I lie. “I'm just your conscience....here 2 remind u of ur past...”
he runs into the cuisine and grabs a beer, chugging it. “this has GOT 2 b a dream!” he pants after “Maybe I haven't come all the way down yet....or maybe I'm not sober yet....maybe I shouldn't go out under these...”
“will u please kindly shut the fuck up?!” I snap into his mind. “u can't use alcohol as a crutch, it'll only make u fall more. And getting high will take u all the way back down after.” I reply as he grabs another bière and chugs it as well. “both may make u feel like u own the world but, in the end, the world will just seem 2 crush u like the insignificant little vermin u r. they will only fail u in the end.”
“this is all just a dream ou my imagination...” he mutters.
“no, ur going insane. I'm just here 2 help the proses along.” I reply into his head with a laugh.
“NUUUUUUHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!” he screams, falling 2 his knees and putting both hands on the haut, retour au début of his head. And now, I'm in. He....he looks like he wants 2 take off his head and throw it out the window. I hold my laugh and take control after ceasing the mental opening as soon as it became available. Not much fighting from the doomed man as his pupils widen and I know I've won.
“u will get a knife.” I say, making sure I don't say fro the kitchen, seeing as we're already there. This is just 2 ez. He walks over 2 a drawer and grabs a couteau I think was used at one time to flay fish. This guess was cos there's a small silver scale left on it's handle. Either it never got washed ou it never got washed right. It'll work, it looks sharp. “u won't b going 2 work 2day.” I add, remembering he was a chef at some fancy restaurant which I can't pronounce. Nor do I care. I make him slide the couteau into his pocket inside his veste and off I make him walk. Out of the apartment and down the street. I could just make him walk out into traffic and get it over with but....naw, suppose he lived? And it'd b absolutely no fun 4 me. So, instead, I make him walk around a bit in the dewy morning as the sun rays just start 2 warm the streets. Because, u know, they've gotta get over the skyscrapers 1st and then make their way down here like a chenille, caterpillar down a tree. Eventually I make him walk into an alley. Now....he's as good as dead. This is my turf and he's shrouded in shadows. “Ray Richie” I say out loud as I slowly form from the shadows, making sure 2 keep my face veiled in them. Only my eyes, a glowing crimson red from use of my powers, are showing. “u are guilty of killing ur youngest son, Jay, and almost killing ur wife. U also abused them, will u deny it?” I ask in my demon voice. He turns and stares at me, wide-eyed. He tries 2 run and I shoot my wing out 2 block him. “Going so soon? But we just got here, and it's just light out. Surely u have nothing better 2 do....then 2 die....?” I smirk slightly.
“H-how did u know?” he stammers. I can smell fear drifting from him like smoke away from a feu and hear his cœur, coeur pounding like it's trying 2 get out.
“I'm a demon....i hear all.” I reply, though I'm not really a demon. He doesn't need 2 know that, though. “how's it feel?”
“how's....wh-wh-what feel...?”
“how's it feel 2 have fear dulling ur eyes? I'm sure u've seen it plenty of times in ur family's eyes. After all, u can't spell families without lies...” I sneer “do u like knowing how it feels?” my glare hardens and I use telepathy to make him c a giant skull shooting at him. This makes him fall backwards 2 the ground. I smirk and do it again, this time with many smaller skulls darting around him in a carefully ordered chaos of greens, yellows, and whites. I make him hear nothing plus then the pounding and beating of wings and my voice just as an under-layer of it all, a sort of echo to go with them perfectly. “don't worry, u'll b in a better place, which is hell. I'm sure u'll b welcomed there.” I snarl, making a shadow take the couteau from him and I walk over, grabbing it from the shadow, which then adds itself 2 the dances of the other shadows and the skulls only him and I c. I make ure no one at all is anywhere near, not that I thought anyone would b there anyways. This little part has been abandon since 4ever. I stab him once in the shoulder. “4 abuse.” I snarl, ripping it from his flesh b4 raising it again and making a short dash down the middle of his forehead. “for attempted murder.” I snarl, knowing after the 1st stab he wasn't going anywhere. Fear and pain pinned him there and I finish him with a stab in the forehead, forming an up-side down traverser, croix with the 1st line. I knew the 1st one didn't hit bone, though. “and 4 running over ur own son.” I resist the urge 2 spit on him. “may u rot in pieces.” I snarl, smearing blood from the blade onto his forehead to make wings on the upside down cross, finishing the sign b4 flying away, back home, being sure no one saw me leave.