1 So, The Story Goes Like This

     This is the story about how I died in agony.

     I know, I know, you might be thinking that I'm one of those creepy weirdos that says that they're dead int the inside or some kind of liar hat has nothing to do with my life. Actually, you're right, but the difference is, I'm dead on the inside and  on the outside. You wouldn't get it, especially when you haven't experienced seeing a seraphim that burn your body to she's right in front of you.

     If you're still not convinced, you could take note that I'm now a floating, bodiless spirit that was caught using a net by my friends. You wouldn't get it, but hear this some of you might think this is cool and all because I was floating around Phoenix with a hollow black suit and seeing all things I shouldn't be seeing. You might say, "Wow, Cain, that's really cool. Can I die in agony, too?"

     No. Just no.

     One, because you wouldn't end up with the way I've been and two, that sounded creepy.

     You don't want to die with the way I did. You don't wanna meet spirits, wraiths and celestial beings you wouldn't believe that existed. Trust me, they do.  I'm also  pretty sure that you don't want to be chased by countless of underworld's minions, finally die and had to find for a body. I did it the hard way, and so will you, if  ever you find out that you don't belong in this world.

     All I'm saying was, don't screw up your life, find out that something wants to take control of your body  because you might end up like me (not a good idea, really.)

     Oh, and probably avoid some ancient writing on a rock or something. Also pissing off your whole clan to the point that they can abandon you so you'll end up in a silly van with nothing else to wear but a ragged white t–shirt and pyjamas. And then  afterwards, get your van stolen and now you had  to suffer on the streets.

     The thing that I'm saying was, you don't want to live my life—if I still consider myself alive and all—but no, just no. But I figured that you really wouldn't get what the heck I'm  talking about, so let me  start from the beginning...

     It began when my parents had sex—wait, too far?

     Okay.

     Before all this happened, I was nothing but a poor kid living on the streets. Uh, no, wait, let me rephrase that. I was a poor kid living on a sleeping bag.

     This all started in a normal day. Of course, I was sleeping on my sleeping bag, feeling the heat inside it even though it was late in December, the snow covering the other side of my face and accidentally freezing some of my nerves.

     I can tell that it's still early in the morning for I'm the loud clatter of numerous  vehicles passing right by my side and the buzzing chatter of people talking about how beautiful or dull their days was as if someone actually gives a damn. The whole city was awake and this is the exact time I should get up and start finding another spot where I can continue my peaceful sleep. Or maybe start my daily routine – stealing.

     Hey, don't judge me yet. All I'm stealing from are those kind of people that looks rich and and lush. Or someone that I really just hate. Think of it as self imposed karma from me. And besides, if you're in my shoes—that's, sorry, disgusting—I bet a thousand falafels that you will do the same thing that I'm doing just to survive. Because you're not dumb.

     Anyway, I was ready to get up when a guy in the sidewalk said, "Oi, get outta there!"

     You see, I can't really get why those people act like they own this whole street. I'm not doing anything wrong.

    I know that I don't have to  listen to that random guy, but what he said made sense. Besides, I don't really fancy being targeted with snowballs as a first thing in the morning. Groaning, I said, "Okay, okay."

     The moment I got up from where I lied, I thought about my van on the other side of the city town, parked in some kind of grassland. I wanted to cry (not) because that van was stolen from me. If I still had my van, I wouldn't need to get up every morning on a sleeping bag and be kicked by some cops so that I could scamper away.

     After my morning routine, which consisted of glaring at the people that looked at me with pity, rolling up my sleeping bag and thinking how fucked my life was, I slung my things around my shoulder and took a good look at my surroundings.

     I'm under the bridge of the Public Garden. I only realized this now because I was too busy getting away from a gang. I wouldn't tell the whole story, but it's because I did something really stupid and ridiculous to it's leader. And by stupid and ridiculous, I meant something that's top-notch idiotic like boiling your sock and drinking the liquid.

     All in all, I should get out of here and probably steal some food or scavenge some. But wait, now that I think of it, I guess I shouldn't steal now. I'm still hot in the eyes of the cops. 'Specially officer Santillan.

     The guy's a huge pain. One time, he literally set me up with some kind of guy that would beat me up because that guy was one the persons that I stole from. And I didn't feel anything but burning anger because for one, I don't really care about the face or the identity of who I'm stealing from.

     If I remembered him and the things I did to him, I can feel bad. But no. So I felt anger. The next morning, I came to Santillan and threw some big sized–rocks and him and his car.

     I left the garden and decided that I should go to one of my friends (Hey, I must be a poor guy who steals and all but I do have friends). This friend has lots of food. Free food, to be exact.

     I was about to walk towards A–East when a guy stops me by calling my name.

     "Cain, don't go just yet."

     Color me surprised when I saw Quil. It's been weeks since our last talk, and that talk didn't go well. I changed my spot. They're in the South Ave, while I'm in A–East. I and Quil were friends, so I smiled when I saw him. I remember those times when I was just a newbie about stealing and pissing and basically messing my life up more. Quil taught me how to get better of those things, and the next thing I knew, he and I were friends.

     "Hey, man," I called back, my voice groggy.

     "Cain." He said. He was wearing his usual snarky outfit and all that. But he was wearing a coat under another coat. Talk about sensitive.

     "That's me," I said, tapping the sides of thighs, waiting for whatever he has to tell me.

     "Come with me. They're after you."

     "Who's after me?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

     If you're like me, a stray and poor kid that happened to piss a lot of people and a lot of gangs, there'll be a hundred lists of who's after you. It might that one guy that I kicked in the arse after I robbed him or that woman that I ignored when her cat started to have winter tantrums and climbed on a tree. She was asking me back then, but I just scoffed and her. I later learned that she's a mafia leader.

     Quil bit his chapped lips then looked around anxiously. "I don't have time to explain here. Come with me. We'll meet Mugin."

     "Wait, what? I thought Mugin isn't here? I thought he, uh, left Phoenix?"

     Mugin is this another guy that decided to hang out with me back in the days. When I started to get to the real deal, by that I mean stealing and gaining  informations about others, I met him. Mugin and Quil are like inseperable pieces of some complicated puzzle that you won't understand.

     "Flasnews, kiddo, he didn't." Said Quil, scratching his trimmed beard, still anxiously looking around. "Anyway, you really should come with me."

     "Why?" I asked again, looking at Quil incredulously. Why is he acting strange?

     "They're coming after you," He said in force whisper. His eyes darted from side to side before continuing, "I can't tell who, or what, but I know they do. Just come with me, kid, Mugin knows more than I do."

     I was very confused. I was thinking that Quil was talking about the cops or something, or even the gang that I escaped last night, but something tells me that it's not about that. The frightened and anxious look on Quil's onyx eyes had an effect on me at the moment. I could almost feel his anxiousness, too. And his fear about something he and I both don't know.

     And another thing, why would Quil depend on Mugin? Mugin was just like us. Poor, sleeping on the streets, scavenging for food and some essentials. But, well, he has his own house that was made with some overused wood and all, but still, why would Mugin know about this? Like, whoever and whatever's coming from me, how could Mugin know? It's not like he's my stalker or something.

    But there was no time to think, that's what I can say. Quil was so anxious he started to fidget and bite his fingers. His actions are also driving me nuts, plus with the  growing curiosity that I can feel under my skin. It's either I come with Quil or just shrug off all of this. I chose the former.

     I looked at Quil intensely, my mind silently debating and thinking if I should really go with him or just do my thing. I studied him, ge was still looking around like he's expecting somehing come out from the crowd and tackle us. I can't stand seeing Quil like this.

     I sughed. "Okay. Where's Mugin?"

     That seemed to lessen his anxiety."At the crossing."

     I nodded then clenched the strap of my sleeping bag. It was a wintery day, and I was wearing nothing but a puffed jacket and jeans. It was so cold that I almost felt jealous of Quil's coat. I had this urge to pull it from him, wear it then run away like nothing happened. Like he didn't told me some weird things.

    I tousled my brown hair to get off some snow on my head. The day was cold yes, but the coldness I can feel inside and my nervousness overcame it. I don't know exactly what would I do to myself. I don't know if I should brace myself for this "urgent" news that Quil had told me.

     I feel like I wanted to run from all of this.. but to where? I'm homeless, and my "family" had abandoned me. I'm a stray dude in a puffed jacket, living inside a sleeping bag. Thinking about it made me wonder why would someone or something is after me. What, they're after me because I live in a sleeping bag? Is that  how important sleeping bags nowadays?

     I was so busy of thinking about whatever Quil was talking about and partly eyeing some shops and people that I might steal from later, that I didn't realize we're nearing Scramble Crossing. It's the most populated area in Phoenix and where thieves like me mark their targers. Right after Quil led the way to the Scramble Crossing, we saw Mugin leaning against a post, his hands inside his coat.

     Mugin was looking straight, his blue eyes distant. Then, he turned to us. The serious look on his face was replaced like Quil's – anxious. Mugin was my and Quil's friend. But Mugin suddenly disappeared off our radar for years. Maybe for two or three. I wanted to give him a bear hug, but his expression stopped me from doing so.

    He shuffled on his feet then walked towards us. Mugin was older than me for maybe three years, but his face looks much older and mature. He has this lines on his forehead like he was scrunching his forehead a lot. His face held that grumpy face and all that. Totally different from Quil.

    Mugin eyes held something I can't understand. Like he's deciding wether he'll tell me or not. Or just carry on with it. I didn't like it. No one liked it when Mugin became serious, more serious than he's ever been before.

   "Hey, what's all this about, Mugin?" I asked, sounding like a moron this time. How many times have I asked what's going on? Impatient, I repeated my question, "Mugin. What?"

     He stopped in front of us, then looked at me straight in the eyes. Unconsciously, my eyebrows scrunched. For a moment, he looked like he wanted to bolt while having me and Quil around his skanky shoulders.

    "They're coming for you. Go back to your uncle's house and never leave 'til morning."

      I looked at him incredulously then laughed for that's exactly what Quil told me. I have no idea if this was his way of pranking me, but this cracked me up a little bit. Go  back to my uncle's house and never leave until morning? What bullshit.

     "That's the most stupid thing I heard this morning. Thanks, man. You made me laugh." I said, raising my hand to pst him on the back, but I stopped midway when He put his hands on my shoulder then clenched his jaw like he's trying hard not to scream or something.

     "I'm serious, Cain," He said, his tone growing deeper and meeker, like he didn't want to have this conversation at all. "If  you don't listen to me, you might die. Are you hearing me? Go back to your uncle's house. That's all I ask from you."

     Unfortunately, I've had enough of their "they'll come for you" bullshit. I huffed, then took a step back. I glared at the both of them.

"Can you just tell me what it is?" I was irritated. "Let's just cut to the chase, for god's sake." I said, groaning and scowling at them.

    It was wearing me off. The anxiety that they had given me added to the pain in my stomach because of hunger. I still haven't eaten anything, and I wasn't liking how they'll throw off some words to me like they're some kind of riddle. I didn't even finish high school.

     They looked at each other, an understanding passing between them, like a part of the same machine, their minds working tigether. Seeing this made me clench my jaw. They're making me more anxious and I didn't like it. Why couldn't they just tell me directly? 

    "What is it?" I asked once again, a little power in my voice. I just want them to get over with it. It was killing me.

"If we tell you, you wouldn't believe it." Said Mugin, but there was this look on his face that tells me that we feel the same.

     "Just get over with it, man."

     "Millions of spirits from Hell wants to take your body."

     And that's where it all started.