Darker times for Celeste. Quite proud the visual imagery of the butterfly :D Feel free to review
I hold a photo in my hands. It is perhaps the last thing that connects me with humanity. It is a picture of me and my family. We are all wearing Santa hats on a couch in awful matching green Christmas sweaters with Rudolph on them. We are all laughing. I cannot believe this was only the end of last year. But now everything has changed. There is no more laughter. No more trust. And I hate every single face in this picture. Including my own.
My old face is weak. Too afraid to give in to the darkness that lies deep within our soul. Too self-righteous to listen to our master's praising words. Most of all my face made a fatal mistake; depending on our family.
When things started going wrong. When my anger started to sprout and emerge like a black butterfly sipping poisonous nectar by revisiting the countless names we have been called from times lost and latched onto them. They started to back away from me. They too began to despise me. Rather than remain by my side they forced me to fight them. They ignored my pleas for help, choosing instead to blame me. Saying that I wasn't even trying to control the darkness inside.
Well I had. But now. Now I was embracing it. Every day I wake up and I don't give a damn about anything or anyone. It is a wonderful feeling. I go around making others feel bitter just because I can. Then I set them upon each other like wolves. Catharsis is a glorious time waster. I relish in their pain and smell the sweet, intoxicating stench of blood and it makes me feel powerful. Having dominion over people does that to you, I can see why Lucifer got a kick out of it.
Yet looking at this scrap of glossy paper in my hand. I feel hot liquid begin to form in the inner-corner of my dark eyes.
Tears.
My fist crumples it. Uncurling my fist the photograph unfurls as if it has wings of its own. Growling I rip it to shreds and allow them drop to the floor.
Memories of the past would only hold me back. I couldn't afford to leave behind a piece of myself, a time when I wasn't a monster. Not when I was on the road to achieving my prophecy and everything that Azazel has wished for me. If reaching my potential meant killing the ones who had always held me back then I wasn't about to complain.