Death or Damnation

"What, do I do?"

Thinking aloud, I inspect the back of my hand. Three days had passed since I met Lucifer and I was still on leave from work under the pretense of being sick. Of course, I instead was fiddling with the imprinted sigil burned into the back of my hand.

"What do I do?"

I ask the question aloud again, but no answer came just like the other hundred times I had asked the question. My mind wandered to the contract and Lucifer's misunderstanding of my occupation. However, what either of us thought wouldn't help me decipher my current predicament so my consciousness wound itself back to questioning me.

"What does it mean?"

Finally, I was able to answer a question. Everything was on the contract and the contract was something I distinctly remembered. In fact, I had memorized it word for word along with the writing style and signatures.

"Create a masterpiece."

The only option I had was to perfect my art as was stated within the contract; however, the part about creating a masterpiece seemed oddly vague and open to interpretation.

Thinking back, the whole contract was rather vague.

"Why was it vague?" I wondered.

The only answer that logically came to mind was that Lucifer wanted to allow creative freedom while I created the so-called artwork. However, my answers only brought about more questions, like why Lucifer dubbed killing as 'my art,' which in turn led back to his misunderstanding, fueling the infinite loop of questions and half-answers plaguing my thoughts.

-Bring, Bring-

Fortunately, a timely phone call saved the remnants of my sanity and halted the mental assault I was being afflicted with.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

1 WEEK BEFORE EXECUTION

"Terem Mangelle! You have been accused of committing 13 accounts of first-degree murder along with drug possession, vehicular manslaughter, kidnapping, and arson!"

The man stood above me, acting as if he was the embodiment of the son of God: chin held high, trimmed beard adorning his face, judicial robe clamped tightly around his profusely sweating, fat body.

Disgusting was the only word that I could use to describe the man above me. Lucifer at least had the humility to not put on airs or sell himself as a grandiose being only to fall far short of the mark.

"What do you plea?"

The man looked down upon me with stern, cold, lifeless eyes. The expression and white facial powder on the man's face were reminiscent of the thirteen corpses.

'Dead eyes for dead men.' or so I thought.

The man before me proved to be a logical fallacy to my statement. An utter contradiction to my belief. Unexpectedly, irritation simmered within me as the fallacy of a man continued to bore holes through my body and onward into the floor.

In fact, if one were to ask why I was mad, I wouldn't be able to answer. I didn't know why other than the fact that the voices got louder as they denounced the illogical being.

"Mr. Mangelle, answer the question!"

Maybe I should add a fourteenth to their collection and correct the evil deeds that the fallacy is committing to my sanity. I mean, appease the riotous infiltrators within me.

"Mr. Mangelle!"

"Shut it fallacy."

I spoke, at last, finally acknowledging the judge's existence.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Shut it! You want an answer?"

The anger and spiteful whispers plaguing my mind finally took control, leaking into the world as words.

"You expect me to speak when all you do is yap. How could I possibly answer when the dog overpowers my words? Well then, I will show you the answer. I will prove my innocence before you, fallacy."

"What did you call me?!"

Instead of answering the unnecessary question, my hand languidly moved into the briefcase in front of me before reemerging with a yellow folder in tow.

I wave a helper over and they receive the file with trembling hands, trepidation clear in their every movement.

After the fallacy opens the file, his repulsive, pudgy face contorts. One page is flipped and the fallacy's expression crinkles further. Another page turns and then another. By the last flip, the hand moving each page is quaking like a massage chair.

This was the sight they were longing for. Each tremor soothed my soul and relaxed my mind. I savored the moment of blissful peace to the fullest.

Finally, the fallacy decides to interrupt my reverie.

"Wha... what is the meaning... of this?"

Surprisingly, his voice became deeper, adopting a more threatening tone making me feel less like a bug and more like an acknowledged threat. My only thought was that the raving mad messiah had fallen back to earth from wherever his God's domain happened to be.

"What do you mean?"

"Is this your doing, Mr. Mangelle?"

"To be precise, it is my hobby so why are you being so hostile. Do you not like my masterpiece?" I succumbed to madness. After all, if I plead insanity I wouldn't be able to rid the demons within me. I also happened to have a free pass into the afterlife so I chose to borrow the sweet lie from my contractor.

The fallacy's eyes leveled upon me. Confusion is plainly written across his face and his next words were unstable.

"Y... you documented and... and photographed the... the bodies?"

"To be precise I documented my work and photographed my masterpiece for an important individual."

"You experimented on your captives?"

I noticed that the judge had discarded his professionalism and had forgotten to ask about my associate so I kindly provided him with a hint and an answer.

"Of course. After all, how will I find the perfect arrangement for Lucifer and them without practice? An arrangement that could silence them forever! In fact, if you bothered to read a little, you would find that my first trials were all specified towards the proper viscosity needed to make a beautiful flower of red, but later on they decided that an organized and clean picture would bring out the best in my art; so, I decided to combine the..."

"Are you a monster?"

This time I was the one left confused.

"Pardon?"

"You heard me, monster! You are insane!"

And just like that, my passion did a 180 and ceded its coveted spot to intense anger. I was insane, but for my sake, I couldn't be. I simply couldn't.

"I beg your pardon!"

"This court is now adjourned!"

"I am no monster! They are the monsters!"

"The defendant is proven guilty!"

"I am not insane!"

"We know you are insane. That is why you will be put on death row and executed as soon as humanly possible."

"I was being manipulated!" With my inevitable confinement approaching, the rest of my sanity snapped and I screamed.

"Take him away!"

"I only wanted to live!"

The guards seized my arms and began dragging me away in chains.

"Live without them!"

My words only fell upon deaf ears. As far as my fate was concerned, everyone might as well have been a part of the undead.

The fallacy, by this point, had turned his back on me and was leaving the court room.

"Why must society seclude me in eternal torment! Just kill me!"

"Please be quiet."

This time, a guard answered me. However, instead of shouting my defiance, I reigned myself in and allowed the dead to drag my living corpse away.

The only thing differentiating me and the guards now was the order in which we live: they killed there individualism to survive, while I was destined to die.

"Thank you," he said.