"Have you ever felt so alone that you could not convince yourself of the fact that other people exist?"
-Unknown
"Same as usual then?"
"As always." One Marcus said, that was his name, to himself and his friends.
Or lack thereof, recently.
He sighed, rubbing the bottom of his eyelids as he took the alcohol and waved, walking home.
Stepping inside his home, he sat on a beanbag in a corner and pulled out a book, cocking an eyebrow at the title.
"Spells and Summoning for the Lonely"
He set the book aside, deciding to come back later as he logged onto his computer.
Hey, how are you all tonight?
He looked over the chat log from a few hours ago, about to dismiss it and continue talking when a message caught his eye.
When are we telling him?
Should we?
I think we should, I'm getting sick of helping his sorry suicidal ass.
All he does is complain about himself and how bad he feels no matter what it is we say, so fuck it, let him off himself, especially considering T has been cheating on him for literally months.
He sputtered, scrolling back down and typing hesitantly,
"Guys, how do you feel about me? I mean really feel about me."
You want honesty? From all of us?
I'll tell you.
I hate you, Marcus. I absolutely hate you. Look at yourself in the mirror for once, tell me, who would want you, hell IMO it's a damn miracle T has put up with your BS.
Oh wait, she hasn't! She's been cheating on you for the past three fucking months!
He stared blankly at the computer screen for a long minute, before he slammed his face into his desk in a scream of incoherent emotion.
He got up so fast his chair toppled over as he blindly tore through his bathroom in a rage, slamming a bottle of pills onto his desk as he stalked back to it, sitting in his chair and staring at himself in the now dark glass of the monitor.
Am I really about to do this?
Not dry, a part of his mind chuckled as he unwrapped a bottle of scotch, preparing to unscrew the cap when a knock came from his door.
"If you're from the IRS, tell them to fuck off!" He yelled, "I pay my taxes damnit!"
A second knock came from the door, so he grumbled and got up,
He opened the door, beginning to speak before the person opposite him cut him off,
"You really didn't notice the cashier change, did you?"
————————————————————-
Justinia Cassiel walked into her bosses office with only the slightest bit of apprehension, a new job? Outside of being the bosses bodyguard?
She swallowed down the lump in her throat as the possibilities flashed through her mind, before she sat on the opposite side of Lucifer's desk.
"Justice, I'm glad you're here." The old demon spoke warmly, clasping her hand, "I have a job, as you already know, so just let me explain."
Justice nodded, the tension ebbing a bit as the Queen continued,
"Too many souls are being sent here for asinine reasons, simply because Heaven is too pure for them and there's not yet a damned Purgatory." She growled in annoyance,
"Seeing as we have enough demons to help on a mass scale, you'd only need to help one person, thankfully."
"So help them and then get back here. Right?"
Lucifer nodded and opened a portal, "Through there leads to the Earth, please, try not to draw attention to yourself, yes?"
Justice grinned and with a two fingered salute, stepped through onto the ground, pressing herself against the wall as a man walked into the dark room.
Chopping the man in the base of his neck and catching him as he slumped down, her clothes changed into that of the store's uniform, complete with a name tag.
She walked out, manning his till for a few solid hours until her "shift" ended,
Her last customer set a bottle of scotch and a bottle of pain medication on the conveyor belt, waving as he left.
Justice paused for a second, wondering.
Does he look like he needs help?
He's buying scotch, more than likely illegally, and pain meds. He can't be alright, at least in the head.
With a quick smile, she followed behind him.
————————————————————-
Marcus yelped at the sheer tallness of the woman in front of him, he was easily 5'8 and she dwarfed him by a good 2 feet.
She leaned on the doorframe lazily as he slammed the door, locking it and retreating to his desk.
He calmed down as footsteps faded away and eventually all was silent.
He sighed, looking at himself again,
"No point in putting it off," he grimaced, uncorking the alcohol and pills, before letting a handful fall into his mouth as he took a swig. The scotch burned as it trailed down his throat and into his stomach.
Near instantly, he felt himself go numb as he staggered and lay on his bed, laughing as he drank a bit more.
His vision blurred into a hazy grey before it blessedly faded into a midnight, obsidian black.