Burning Bridges
I was sick. Sick at myself, sick of whom I had become.
Death was a salient part of my life. I had gone places I wished I had never even heard of. Done things. Things that could only be described in a nightmare. And now I was that nightmare. A dæmon. A monster. An eidolon. I had passed the bridge of redemption long ago, leaving it behind and doing only what I was ordered to. Every day I had wished to go back, to turn from my ways, but I never did. Never could. I continued the appalling behavior, letting the demonic side of me take over.
I knew there was no going back, yet every day I still hoped that there was. A way to stop the wraith from consuming my being.
My reflection stared back at me in the mirror, eyes black as my soul, full of hatred and malice. I hated it. Hated myself. My fist flew toward the mirror, shattering it into hundreds of pieces. My hand bled, but I didn’t care. Pain was no longer a concern of mine. Today was the day I would fix everything. Burn the bridges that kept me from changing. Shatter every malicious part of my being just like the broken mirror before me.
I finished dressing, tying my tie and then putting on my suit jacket, still staring at my reflection in the mirror, now a kaleidoscope. Those dark eyes still protruded from the lightness of the room, but I could see a hint of light shining forth from the calignosity of my being.
I holstered my pistol in the small of my back and left the apartment, ready to take on my controller, the head of the mob family I worked for. No longer would my soul belong to him. No more would I do his every bidding, every atrocious act he ordered.
Once this bridge was burned, my soul would be free.
A. Page in the Stacks 