Chapter Four

Sacrifice


My life was a living hell. I think it is easier to start off my story saying this undeniable truth. I died frequently, almost once a day. I continued this until my ultimate death. I could not figure out how I could eternally die when I've been 'dying' every day of my young life. I summed up my theories into one semi-believable statement; I tried to rationalize the chaos of my existence. Before, I would die in some unnatural way. It was almost comical; whom am I kidding, it was fucking hilarious. Can you catch the slight sarcasm? It got old to here the same old skit after each death. Although, I guess some of my accidents were funny…even to me. What wasn't funny was my last death.

I was thirteen years old on my home from school. Stan and Kyle left me to venture into my lovely abode. Nothing says a home like the smell of piss, booze, and burning tires. I pulled the screen, making this awful creak. The living room was dim with the only source of light was the small television box. The olive green carpet was stained and smelled funky. Kevin was watching Terrance and Phil and my parents were nowhere to be found. He was wearing the same shirt and pants for a week; I doubt he changed his boxers. His hair looked greasy and unkempt. He shot me a look and sneered some curse in my direction.

I could hear my parents yelling. Their speeches were slurred from the booze they've consumed over the course of the day. My father stumbled into the living room and looked at me funny. "Boy..." he slurred; eyeing me, "You er late boy!" he started unbuckling the belt. My mother started screaming about how he should leave me alone and to get out of the house. I began to walk away from those two.

The next second, I feel the metal buckle against the back up my skull. I fell face first on the carpet; the smell of the piss and booze kept me from passing out. I hear my mother crying. "Don' ya walk away fro me boy!" the old man slurred. He kept whipping me; it would hurt more if I did not have my hoodie. I try to scream but my hood muffled my voice. I tried to get up but he kicked me in my ribs. I heard the agonizing crunch of broken bones. I yelped in pain and buckled back into a fetal position. He kept kicking at my back, stomach, and head. The throbbing pain was increase; blood started to run. I coughed up blood onto the carpet. I let out a soft whimper for help. I looked up at Kevin; he was still watching the television.

Everything turned black.

I was not allowed to go to heaven; God did not have any more room and he did not like me. So, I went to hell. It was not that bad, though. I had to assist the demons in torture and did busy work. They taught me a lot of neat tricks like raining flaming eyeballs and flaming winged skulls. Anything with 'fire' or 'flaming' is popular down in this area of hell. The further you travel the colder it gets. Think about it, when you hold snow or any ice in your hands for an extended period of time, your fingers feel the frost bite. Sometimes it's so cold, it's burning you.

In hell, I actually aged; I could choose what age I want to be. I listened to a lot of rock music, especially metal. It's true, metal is the music of demons. They try to bring mortals down in hell to perform for the demons and they hypnotize the players to make them believe that they're playing in some other city. Next week Slayer is supposed to come down to "Stockholm".

Of course, how could I neglect to talk about Damien. Yes, you know him well; son of Satan, the Anti-Christ, and all the other names that comes with the territory. Damien is the exact opposite of his father. He is the epitome of evil. He's sadistic, cruel, sarcastic, deadly, and cunning. But, he's amazingly gorgeous. His hair is a midnight blue-black now down to his mid back. He has almost feminine curves but has a nice and toned built. He has beautiful eyes, often turning from a bright emerald to a blood red when he's enraged or is lustful. He wore black cloaks and knee high boots mostly with his 'gothic get-up'. I was in love with this boy. And I think he knew it and milked it up.

We started to hang out around hell since there was no one else really. I soon became immune to all of his sarcastic and biting comments, lack of humanity, and his sadistic sense of humor. I told him about my mortal life and he just gave his cold and crude comments here and there. He didn't comment, however, on my death. I told him about the old man and my obvious hatred and bitterness. His face actually softened a tad.

"You want me to take care of him?"

"You can do that?"

"Shit, I'm the fucking Anti-Christ!"

That was his answer to everything, pretty much. The next thing I knew, I was being taken to the mortal world (as an apparition of course, can't be walking around like a zombie) to watch the old man die by fire ants. It was rather humorous; his eyes bugged out and his screams were beyond delicious. Don't get me wrong, I'm normally not so psychotically elated over the torture of people but I am in hell and he did kill me.

When we got back to hell, I was so happy over his death and how I can torture him like he tortured me. I was yelling in Damien's room. He just gave me a small smirk. "Thank you, so much Damien." Before I could think about what I'm doing, I was hugging the guy. He even looked surprised.

"Uh- oh shit, sorry." I try to apologize, "This is awkward..."

I try to pull away but he laced his arms around my waist. "It's only awkward if you just stare at me..." he whispered.

His kisses were amazing. He laced my tongue and the inside of my mouth with his tongue gracefully. We fell onto his bed as he groped my body. He pressed himself against my leg, almost humping me. I let out a moan as he started to pull off my clothes. "Sorry, but I'm on top..." he whispered coarsely, "I like being dominant." I couldn't give him an answer because he silenced me with another kiss. He stripped off my pants until we were both naked. He looked amazing; he has the body and the face of an Anne Rice vampire.


The pain of sex is nothing compared to the pain of abuse. It's a different kind of pain. This pain makes you feel good. This pain actually has a drug effect; it dulls your senses and heightens them at the same time. It makes you forget about other problems in your life while you're in the moment. That's how it's so addictive. When Damien performs, I mean he performs. It's mind blowing; I guess having sex with a deity is supposed to be mind blowing.

When he wanted sex, he didn't wait until we were alone; it was on the spot. We were eating with Satan and his new boy toy Benito Mussolini and Damien started unzipping my pants into the main course. He started to get rough with me. I wasn't surprised when he brought out S&M gear for me to strap on. He would strap on a choker around my neck. He would pull on that while fucking me...and an added bonus was a whip.

I never minded though because I just wanted to please him. I mean, he did treat me awfully well...besides the sex. He didn't cook me rotisserie style like the countless numbers of the damned. I had my own room and I could walk around freely around Hell. It was my life, or rather, my afterlife. He acts on his animalistic urges and desires. He doesn't understand the word compassion, only lust and sexual urges. He doesn't comprehend that he hurts me. I know I want to love him but I know that it's a wasted effort.

I was curled up in my bed one night and Damien barges in. His pupils were pinpricks in his crimson eyes. Before I could say anything he had me pinned to the wall by the scruff of my neck. "You fucking slut!" he roared. I clawed at his hand in vain. He pounded my head against the wall. I let out a cry. "How dare you see someone else but me!!" he continued to question me about me soliciting sex when I was eight.

He finally let go of me as blood stained tears streamed down his cheeks. I coughed continuously while gulping the air. I couldn't help but just stare at him. I cannot even bring myself to defend the accusations. "It's true..." I whimpered softly where even he could barely hear my cries. "What can I say but you're right. I loved sex when I was alive even at a young age. I sold myself to earn a bit extra cash." I babbled on and on until I was crying my eyes out.

I just looked up at him, ready to see his twisted sneer. But there was nothing. There was no emotion in his glare. He pulled me up from the ground and embraced my sore and stricken body. I smeared my bloody face into his neck for some sort of comfort. Soon, I realize that this embrace isn't so much as comforting but constraining. He presses his lips on my ear.

"I won't let you leave me...know this...I am your one and only..." he whispered harshly in my ear. He forced his lips against my own, tasting the blood that's collected in my mouth. He pushed me into the bed as the blood drips on my face. He lapped it up with his forked tongue. His palms were pressed against my shoulder blades. I winced at the pressure. I let out a gasp of pain as he plunges his member into my mouth.

Bloody cum...

This was my everlasting hell…I guess I am being tortured down here without even realizing it. He uses me like a rag doll until something pisses him off and then I'm his punching bag. Sure, you may be thinking I shouldn't let him hit me like this but he's the fucking anti-Christ...a god. I have no power compared to him. He has unbelievable strength and unimaginable power. There is someone, however, that's stronger than him.

Satan.

I go to his estate when Mussolini conveniently leaves for the night. Satan greeted me warmly as I stroll into the living room full of decorated pillows and photos of a young but not-so-innocent Damien.

"What can I do for you?" his voices echoed through the room.

"It's about your son..."

"He's at it again?"

"I guess you could put it that way..."

"I'll see what I can do..."

That short engagement put me in better spirits. He told me to wait around while he pulls a soufflé out of the oven. I walked upstairs and I see Damien's old room down the hallway. I started creeping towards it. I was called before I could get a good glimpse of the boy on the wall. Somehow, it reminded me somewhat of someone I knew...

It looked like Stan.

I left shortly after trying Satan soufflé (it was quite delicious mind you) and headed toward my quarters past the lava pits and shish kabob victims. I entered my room when I saw someone behind the door. "Where were you?" an all too familiar voice hissed behind me. I thought up a lie quickly. "I was looking for you this morning..." I coolly replied.

He turns me around roughly and looks me in the eyes. Lucky for me, he isn't a mind reader and I can bullshit with the best of them. He seems convinced with my lie as he rubs my sides. He nuzzled my neck almost tenderly as I let out a moan. He caressed my torso first slowly but he gets more physical. He pressed me against the wall and we passionately kiss. Our tongues are tangled as he unbuckles my belt.

He starts pleasuring me on the spot. I try to grab something but the only thing there is to grab is the door handle to the outside. The pressure of his mouth against my member makes me feel aroused but I feel a pricking sensation. The door opened and we collapsed on the floor. He continues to pleasure me while people turn to watch the free event unfold. I let out a gasp; not out of pleasure but out of pain. I look down to see my member bleeding. Apparently, Damien's fangs punctured my dick!

I let out an agonizing scream as he continued to suck on it. Blood drips down the side as he laps it up. The tongue glided over each puncture womb sending surges of stinging pain. I clenched my lower lips so hard it starts to bleed. He released himself and looks over at me. His grin was stained with my blood and semen. He scooped me up in his arms and cradled my head. I wrapped my arms around his neck. I don't remember how the door was fixed or how I got to bed that night. All I could concentrate was the pain in my groin. I felt myself being slipped into the bed sometime later. I felt a body next to me though.

I turned over to see Damien's red eyes gleaming in the dark. I caught my breath for a second. He almost never stays with me after he has his way. He slips his arm under my torso and pulls me closer. He kisses my forehead and whispers bittersweet nothings into my ear. I couldn't catch much of it for the throbbing pain in my groin clouds my thinking process.

"Don't worry, I'll make it all better soon...don't worry..."


I had awoken to find Damien still sleeping in my chamber. Why did he stay with me? Why is he acting almost kind to me? Aside from the blowjob he didn't hit me or belittle me. I don't want to believe that he's acting nice for nice sakes. I decide to leave it be and not bring it up or he may revert to his normal way of acting. I leave my room to take a stroll around Hell. I ended up in the suicide's garden of Hell in my brooding.

The garden is somewhat the most beautiful part of Hell. The flowers are glass-like and gleam in the light. Although they're not alive they're more gorgeous than real flowers. The people, however, aren't beautiful. They have this blue glow around every one of their souls. You cannot even break their trance; they live in their own guilt and they kill themselves the same way in life. It's sad, almost, I tried once to convince this girl that she's dead but she just cut her throat right in front of me.

I started playing with one of the crystal lilies when one of the victims sat down beside me. I look up but I did a double take.

"S-Stan?"

Nothing could convince me otherwise. This boy, my old childhood friend, is Stan. He doesn't look past eighteen and yet he hasn't changed when I saw him last. His eyes are a dark royal blue that contrasts his raven hair. His skin is porcelain aside the red abrasions around his neck. There's a rope still wrapped around his neck. My body grew cold when I laid my eyes on the rope dangling around his thin neck.

"You look like someone I used to know..." he said to me. All I could do was nod. "What happened to you?" I asked dumbly. He raised his eyes and greets my own. "I loved her...I truly loved her." he replied, almost avoiding my question. "But I...couldn't love her and him...oh god and Kyle...oh god that look he gave me...and that kiss...why did I..." he croaked out. He chokes on his tears. I tried to console him but he just kept pulling on his noose until he was blue in the face.

I couldn't bear seeing him like this; I just ran away. I ran into the one person I do and I don't want to see at the same time, Damien. I couldn't even give an explanation where I've been; I could only cry. I choke on my tears as I blubbered out about Stan. He embraced me in his arms and strokes my back. "I tried to tell you last night but you fell asleep. Don't worry though, we can amend his death if you want." he whispers in my ear. I just nod a yes.

I was told the whole story before heading upstairs to pay Kyle a visit. I had awoken him in his sleep. "Kenny?!" he screamed. I laughed at his response. "Missed me much?" I asked. He nods as I came closer. He hasn't changed either although his eyes are bloodshot. "Stan is dead now..." he muttered. I couldn't bear to tell him I saw him in hell so I lied to him about some bull he's in heaven.

"W-hy are you here?" he asks me.

"I'm here to tell you that revenge is best serve cold and you better give that bitch and fat fuck what they deserve."

"'W-hat? Like, to kill them?"

"I'm not saying that...that's too barbaric for you." I grinned, "Don't you want to see that bitch scream in horror? Don't you want her to beg for mercy? Don't you secretly want to see if Cartman will spew out candy if you take a whack at him?"

"Look Kenny, I just can't kill two people...although they clearly deserve it. It's not moral..."

"This isn't about right and wrong or black and white, Kyle. This is karma and you're the one that's going to deliver karma in the form of a gun...or knife...whatever you prefer. I'm out, I think my father is actually not screaming...I know you know what to do..."

When I returned to Hell I ended up in Damien's old room. It revealed all this gibberish with a picture of Stan on the wall. There's a red circle around his face. Then there was a sort of map that connected Stan to other people. I saw me up on the wall as well. I touched my photo that had a heart around my face. It then had an arrow from me to Kyle and then an arrow to Wendy and Cartman. I couldn't tell whom the blonde boy in the map that led to Stan. What is this?! Was this all part of some twisted and sadistic plan of his?! And I was...just the pawn in his game!

I ran out of the room to see Damien just laughing at me. "You can't get away from me, Kenny! I told you I won't let you go!!" he laughs maniacally in my face. I ran away from him until I saw Satan just staring at me. "Damien that's enough! I'm sending him away..." he booms his voice. Satan grabs me while Damien screams obscenities.

"I'LL HAVE YOU BACK, KENNY! YOU CAN'T ESCAPE ME!! YOU'LL ALWAYS BE MINE!!"


I am staring at Kyle in the cell we share together. Apparently, this man's soul went straight to hell...leaving me an empty vessel to control. Over time he acquired my physical traits while I wait for release. Being alive is awkward, especially with Kyle in this situation. He looks over at me one day and asks me my story since he told me his insane story.

"My story is mind-blowing...you'll never believe me..."

"I told you mine which isn't normal either...besides we have time until we're sent to die..."

"Wait...I thought you said you're getting off on insanity?"

"No, they appealed it...we're both heading to the guillotine buddy...so you better spill it now..."

Damien's laughter just echoed in my head. I felt the blood rush out of my face. I guess he is right...I can't escape him.

"Alright...it starts as back when I was thirteen where my dad killed me after you walked me home..."

"Kenny?"

End of Chapter Four

Really really long update/chapter. Even though this isn't that popular I love it! I guess it doesn't matter as long I'm happy. Sorry if there's just tense switching I tried to switch all I could find…there are 2 pictures on my deviantart account if you mosey over there to www.xxhdmxx.