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Azazel 3I look into the glass of water, praying that Jesus will come back to turn it into wine. No, i will not think about it. I am drinking water. Water, water, WATER! I will admit, in the past i have drunken my fair share of wine. Probably a little too much, depending on who you talk to. I circle the wine glass and look at how beautiful the liquid looks circling the edges of the glass. That's probably because i'm imagining wine. A dark red, heavenly liquid. I take a sip, imagining the soothing taste run down my neck. The glass looks so empty without the red wine.
I stand up and head towards the cupboard where i 'hide' the wine from myself. Where my husband used to put his wine. In fact he was the one who got me to start drinking it. He was what you would call a 'wine expert'. I sigh as i lift the bottle onto the bench. This was his, our favourite drink. I grip the neck of the bottle tightly. I know i can't, that i shouldn't. For my daughters sake. I check the watch on my wrist for the time.
Azazel 2"Father, are you listening? He needs us..." her angelic voice echos in the heavens, nobody hears. Not a soul.
Her breath becomes shaky, the book in her hands. She made the atmosphere thicken around her, like a gas. So thick you could have felt it press into you. She closes her eyes tightly and takes a deep breath in before reading. As if her whole purpose in life was to read this book.
"The Book of Demons. Author is?" She says looking up at me for reassurance before continuing "Unknown. Chapter 1, page 1."
"Just read it already!" Yells out one of the girls sitting in the front row before the whole class starts laughing. Her hair, so blonde it almost look white. I like it. Her eyes are the palest purple you would have ever seen in your entire existence. One look and you can't help but stare. The only reason she is popular, as an albino is that, well, she is the most beautiful thing that has been conceived. Her hair, so long and flows all the way past her shoulders. Her skin, so pale it
Azazel"Save him heavenly Father. Please save his soul. For me. Bring him to me, i'll help him. For us." an angelic voice says. Her voice echoing in my mind, a blackened and dark abyss.
"Aza! You're late again. You have been late everyday for the past few weeks. Are you alright?" My boss, Eric Brogan asks with shifty eyes. He probably thinks i'm not fit to teach today. With me wearing sunglasses and all.
"Yeah Eric- oh i mean Mr. Brogan. I'm alright, the kids aren't in danger" I reply with a wink and a crooked smile. I had forgotten that i had sunglasses on, so the effect leaves him thinking that i might take advantage of the children.
"They'll be fine!" I say, trying to cover my little blunder. Everyone is in titled to them every now and again.
"It's not them i'm worried about" I hear him mumble as he turns to leave the corridor where he stopped me. I really must start wearing shoes i can sneak around in. I turn on my heel and stride my way into my classroom where all the children look up at
Orion"It's the dreams doctor. The wild and vivid dreams of us, running together in the tall wild grass. Roaring like lions would. He, as a lion, should not accept me. But he does-" I say, laying down all comfortably in the one of those classic long leather seats they have in a psychiatrists room.
"Do you not understand Savannah, that it is all a dream? There is no lion or 'him' at all. It's a dream, thats all it ever will be. There is no 'Orion', no place where human/cat hybrids roam." The Doc says, always interrupting me.
"But you don't understand-" I raise myself in the seat more, i know where this is going.
"I do understand. I also understand that you are starting to see them when you're awake-" Doc says with a raised eyebrow. We all know what he is implying.
"I am NOT crazy!"
"I never said you were Savannah. I only suggest that you have-"
"Schizophrenia? No doctor! You have it all wro-"
"Now why don't we let me diagnose you, shall we?"
It's at this point I remember I was warned not to t
RelapseIt all came back in a flash. All the hurtful words, all the threats. All the times they ignored me. Back. I guess i just feel a little worthless. At the moment. I mean what has my life become? How has it changed since then? Everything is just getting a little too hard for me. So many times i have begged something to kill me. For God to just strike me down, for Him to just take me away. I know so many people would care. But i don't. I don't care about myself. That's the thing! I just don't care. I haven't for soooo long. It's all catching up with me. Way too quickly.
Problem is i just don't deal with any of my problems. Everything that has happened to me still hurts as if it happened yesterday. I feel that i have no one. But i know i do, i have a supportive family and boyfriend. But i feel empty. Right now.
Been a long time since i relapsed. Such a long time. I thought i truly got pasted my depression. Nope. Never.
Phantom of the DarkYou're choking, you can't breathe. He has hold of you, of your throat and arms. You kick in desperation, too much air has been cut off from your brain to be able to aim. Your eyes, slowly drooping closed. Your fight being sucked out of you.
His eyes, beaming into yours like a search light. His hand crushing your throat, his body pinned up against yours. His fingers can feel the last of your heart beats. His eyes the last thing you see. His cold, calculating grey eyes.
Hours later you wake up, but alas, you cannot move. For you are tied, tied up to- a bed. You know it's a bed because you can feel the soft mattress caressing from underneath you. How many- all of your limbs are tied. You dart your eyes around the room, you fail to see his figure standing there in the corner. Where the light fails to illuminate. You struggle, a bit. But you groan in frustration, you fail to even feel his eyes fixate on you as he begins to grin. He likes your struggle, so it seems. But you really make an ef
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