Just gonna stand there and watch me burn
But that's alright because I like the way it hurts
El Diablo, or The Devil, was a name given to him by his parents the night he burnt their home down. They whispered to each other out of confusion and fear, and that night, as their home was engulfed and lit the darkened night in flames, he knew what many would see him as. A devil. A freak. His life growing up was no different, except Diablo learned how to control those powers, learned how to use them to his advantage. And if everyone saw him as a devil? He would be one. Rising through the ranks from a common street thug to the one the others looked upon, with every bit of power he gained on those streets, the stronger the fire would consume him. Everyone feared him, everyone but one.
Out of all the other women, she was the only one to make an honest man out of him. Or at least, so she thought. Amber skin delicate underneath his touch, raven hair that she'd pass on to their children, and a body a God would worship, she was the woman of his dreams. Only it seemed like every day would be a fight, the two of them at each other's throats. It was a struggle every day, to keep the Devil at bay, to keep the man right then and there. She wanted a home that he could not provide, a home of love, honest living, and had he been completely honest with her, maybe she would have left a long while ago. Maybe she would still be alive.
Nights like these were normal, her throat in his grasp, the kids screaming in the background. Her own fist coming down on him. They argued without end, just as they loved without end. Tonight was over drugs she'd found that had somehow come into their son's possession. Drugs he would have ate had she not come in at the right time. She was right, and as a mother she was only trying to protect her kids. But Diablo couldn't come to terms with the fact that he was the most dangerous part of his children's lives, his very existence threatened theirs.
No matter how bad those nights were, no matter the bruises, the scars, the tears, they would pretend to be a happy family. He would kiss his children on their forehead before they go off to bed. He would promise his everything that he would be a better person. A better father. Only to turn around, walk out of that house, and do the same things that put them in danger. He may have had a home with his family, but those streets were just as much as his home as it was. Those gang members that people looked down on, the ones that looked up to him as a God, were just as much as a family as they were. But no matter how many bodies he burned, no matter how many lives he ended, no matter the skeletons he hid in his closet, he swore he was another person entirely when he was with her. With them. Had he known what would arise from those two lives entwining, he would have left it all behind just for them. Just so that he could kiss his children on their forehead one final time.
Maybe our relationship isn't as crazy as it seems
Maybe that's what happens when a tornado meets a volcano
Power could be a fickle thing. In one moment, you could be the king of the world, and the next you could be six feet under that very world, just like all the rest. Diablo wasn't the type of man to ever see it like that. He never realized that using his gift as freely as he did would come with a price. He'd forgotten how to control that anger, instead letting it fuel him. This was a man who was controlled by power, every aspect of it. Whether it was externally or internal, he was consumed by it. It would end up not being his own downfall, but the downfall of those he loved the most.
His wife would always tell him that she was praying for him. Even through their darkest days, even when they were at each other's throats, she would always get down on her knees, pray to her God for his world. She prayed that he would be a better person out there on those streets, that He would keep him safe, but the problem with that? It wasn't God who gave him the powers. And it wasn't God who had the right to take them away.
When she found his stash of money, cocaine, and guns, enough was enough. He could deny the arson around the city. He could deny those murders. But the proof was in his private bin, now strewn out across the table. He stood up, his voice firm. He didn't apologize. He didn't make excuses. "Put that shit back where you found it."
He knew all too well the sound of a broken voice, a voice of hurt. He could see it in her eyes. She had finally made the decision to leave. She knew all too well that he wouldn't change who he was. Not for his kids. Not for her. He thought he could have them both, and if he wasn't willing to give up his life on the streets, then she would have to give up her life with him. "I'm taking them to my mother's." She spoke in Spanish, tears streaming down her face.
"You're not taking my kid's nowhere!" He followed her up those stairs, the sounds they made waking up their children. But they stayed in bed, knowing all too well what the screaming and doors slamming shut meant. On the other side of the wall, they would hear their mother being slammed against the wall as he fought the only way he knew how to keep her there.
Raven hair that was soft to the touch was pulled into his grasp, her head being jerked upward to look him into the eyes. He could smell it before he saw it. The smell of hair and scalp burning. He didn't care, couldn't think. He was losing it all. He couldn't have both lives, and he would have to choose. He would lose one or the other that night. This was a woman who firmly believed that he would have to make the choice or she would make it for him. Her screams didn't register to him, for the man she loved was gone, and the Devil had taken fed from his entity til there was no more human in him.
She fought back, just as she always did, her hands curled into fists, hitting whatever she could from him. Never before had he felt so angry at her, felt so helpless. He didn't want to choose. He wanted both. He wanted to reign on those streets, for it was the only life a monster like him could have, the only way he could provide for his family.. but if he chose those streets, he wouldn't have a family to provide for. If he didn't make a decision, she would. And for him to have no control, for him to lose power over the situation? He suddenly lost power of his flames.
Skin and bone melted underneath the heat, her skin dripping like hot wax, her screams filling his ear. He couldn't think. Couldn't gain control. He could only hold on to the one part of him that made him human, and the more he clung on to her, the more he destroyed her. Flames engulfed their room, walls aflame, smoke clouding around them and masking them as she burned. It was too late for her. Too late for the house. The one house he had ever called home was completely engulfed in flames. The house fell around him, making it impossible for him to get out of that room, much less to his children's.
"No!... What have I done?" Auburn flesh now charred bones, and with one single tight grip of her, as if to clutch onto her dead form, her body fell to the ground like ashes. His fingers quickly tried to scoop of her dust, but she slipped through his fingers. "NO!" What had he done?
The screams of terror from the other room now died down. They were lucky. As quickly as that house burned, they suffocated before the flames could get them. Their lungs filled with smoke, their lips turned black as they fell to the ground. Their bodies would be ashes before the fire fighters could get to them. The house too far gone for any to enter now.
But Diablo stumbled out of the flames, his clothing burnt to nothing, and yet he had no scratch, no marks on him but the ones his wife had given to him as she fought for not only her life, but her children's as well. His hands high in the air, he felt his face hit the hood of a cop car where they were quick to restrain him. The thug. The widow. The childless father. The Devil. All of them wrapped into one body, thrown into the back of a cop car and from then on out, forced to spend the rest of his life tucked into a small tube.
It was there that he would force him to come to terms with what he'd done. What he was. What he'd lost in trying to have it all. This was a man who allowed power to consume him, and this was a man who had lost it all trying to have everything. In that tube, he found himself picturing her smile, his children's laughs, and the words his parents whispered behind his back. Locked away in that tube, he would force himself to be not only a prisoner externally, but internally as well, forced to listen to his mistakes. Forced to come to terms with what greed and power had done to him.