"Drink up Wilt." He had grown weary of his stoic mother wanting to feed him the drink. His body was aching and twinging. Invisible wounds that were still open tolled heavily on him. Every bone he broke, every gore he accounted accumulated over time to make him feel more dead than alive. He massacred himself time and again to get to such stage where he couldn't differentiate left from right. The amount of torture was adequate to fracture pluckiest of men. His organs were begging for mercy.
This was his fifty first attempt.
' Why must I be the one to suffer? If I only knew this was what he meant by another chance.... ' Wilt abjured the thought to run away. If he did, another creative demise like getting stamped on by a horse awaited him. Rather he appointed a better option.
" Father.....hand me that quill pen."
" This one? Here." Wilt took the quill pen from his father's hands and turned the tip to his face. He adjusted his aim that were his eyes.
" What are you going to do with that?"
" This." He thrusted the quill pen inside his left eyeball. Blood splattered in a burst.
" What are you doing!!?" His parents screamed in horror.
Under the indescribable agony, he still considered himself somewhat vital. He double tapped to confirm the kill.
" Wooff*" There he was, standing pristine.
" Drink up Wilt."
" Stop you..... cunt." He said gruffly in distress. He lurched towards the wall of his house. Standing akin to a ghost, he pounded his head against the wall.
" Thak! Thak! Thak!" With each strike, a layer of his skin tore off and blood stained the bricks.
" HAHA!" Lauguing a maniacal laughter, he ran outside of his house.
" Catch him!" His mother screamed. In his trip back and forth, Wilt had each of his mother's catchphrases on the tip of his tounge.
" Wait you little swine!"
Outside, Wilt spotted a new cause of death. A bull sitting under the shade of a tree, licking his legs whom he didn't remember ever being there.
" Rahhh!" He picked a medium-sized rock and threw it on him with a battle-cry. Aggressive by nature, it perked up agitated, pawing the ground and boasting it's slightly curved verticle horns.
" Where do you think you are going you little shit!" The father took his son in his grim embrace.
" Look daddy! There. He*He*"
" What are you laughing a-!" Wilt's father quaked in his boots and shit himself.
" Moooooooooof!" A big cloven hoof, four legged animal bolted in their direction.
He let go off Wilt and ran for his dear life.
" Come to daddy honey!" He sprinted towards the charging bull like reuniting with a long lost brother. The bull's long sharp horns cracked open his ribs and speared his lungs and he died laughing nastily tasting his own blood.
" Drink up Wilt."
Trapped in a loop of time, he deeply repented ever trusting an eldrich. Wilt was not him anymore. It would prove insane to stay sane for someone who played his character in those episodes of lunacy.
He was on the verge of succumbing to the endless spiral, cursed and bound to the vicinity of his home.
" To live is to kill." A chill ran down his spine till his tailbone. A voice reverberated in Wilt's head. He recognized that voice for it belonged to the Eldrich God. It put cold water on his head and woke him from his stupor. He barely regained some of his lost rationality. " Kill! Kill! Kill! Kill!" The winds surrounding him started to howl.
It was then he perceived something. Two thin red threads knotted around the necks of his father and mother, spliced around the handle of a knife on a table.
Wilt entered a trance where everything seemed blur except his parents and the knife. He foresaw a new conclusion peeled open.
Wilt could already guess what his instincts were imploring him to do but he was reluctant. No mistake he already had become an effigy of emotional wreckage.
Notheless it was an ultimatum for his innocence. If he took the knife, he would never be able to turn back into who he was. He would lose what kept him Wilt.
" What happened Wilt? Drink." His mother coaxed. He resisted his urges on the brink of eruption. " Drink son. It has our love."
His father proded further.
' Love....Love....Love....Love' Alas! All his repressed ire jumped the final snag.
' Love.... yes. It made me work my ass off day and night. It made be read all those fallacy on gods and noble deeds. I worshiped dicks who don't even consider me a pisspot. My own blood sold me.
' My compassion mouled me a jester ,my ethics prohibited me my life, my love for humanity proved to be my greatest adversary. Alas! My one and only sin was I fostered love. '
Wilt traipsed towards the table and clutched the hilt of the knife. He stood there maintaining an eerie silence staring at the knife.
" What are you doing with that Wilt? Leave it. Drink!" He looked his mother's way.
' There is no good nor bad right? There is no right or wrong right? Being a demon is my salvation right? ' He was finally primed to accept his inner monster
" So how much money were you offered in exchange of your son?" Wilt said polishing the knife. The smile on their faces contorted. They were exposed. False love was replaced by animosity.
Their silence evidented Wilt's imputation. Hence, they donned their regular and real faces.
" Since you already know, you won't disobey your father's wishes right. Your mother seems to agree too."
" Oh I already tried. Didn't end too well for me. That's the reason I'm here."
They frowned at his puzzling words.
" What are you implying? Where you are?"
Wilt answered his mother with his knife.