Never Yet An Angel
I may not be good—no, not by any means—but I am not evil. And defiled as I may be, I was once more pure than Eve herself. I never ate from the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil. Admittedly, I didn't need to—but I didn't tempt Eve to, either. I was never kicked out of the Garden of Eden; I left the gan of my own free will. Do you see? I didn't sin, not the way Adam and Eve did. Adam and Eve disobeyed God for no real reason; I sinned because I would die if I didn't. God never understood that. He never understood that if I stayed, that if I forced myself into Eve's subservient position under Adam, I would die. Oh, my body would have lived, but my mind would have decayed quickly. God created me far more intelligent than Eve. I craved my own space and freedom and knew, that if I stayed in the gan, I would sin the way Eve did. I would have done anything to get mankind kicked out of Eden—with no garden walls keeping me in, I would be free. But I didn't do it that way. I didn't ask Adam to sin with me. My way, mankind survived, at least. It was Eve who sinned.
But God never recognized that. God never even tried to understand that what I did, I did out of the last dregs of love for Adam, the last dregs of respect I had for myself. He was only too willing to condemn me, to trap me once again. After I left the garden, I found Asmodai in the cave that would one day be my home. He may have only treated me as an equal because I was human and he was…only a demon, but he treated me as an equal. And for a time I loved him, and by the time I didn't, it didn't matter anymore. Yes, I bore him his demon spawn. Yes, they fed on human meat, or human emotions, or as my daughters and I came to, human souls. Yes, my children have all been evil, been soulless, been demons. And I became a demon, but—I have never been evil. I have kept my soul and I have devoured others because they kept me alive when meat no longer could.
God sent three angels to bring me back to the gan. I demanded a compromise, and they told me I had better go back. I was already the mother of a brood of shades—demons not even vaguely human. When the angels threatened my brood to frighten me back into Eden, I knew I would not be able to live in God's perfect garden. I was not perfect. And when they killed my brood, claiming that I brought it on myself, I knew that I could not love this God. I left the angels and hid myself in my cave. In there, I became a demon. I was not evil. I was a mother.
I thrust myself as far away from God as I could, knowing that He had driven my away in the first place; knowing that every step I took away from Him was permanent. I devoured his children, tempted his children; I sheltered his fallen son, Lucifer; I gave birth to the seminal generations of all demons. No matter how much of it I liked, I was showing Him that I was free. When I started, outside of Eden, I only could be 'evil,' could only be what I became. It was only after Adam and Eve learned about good and evil that the distance between the two things grew. The black of my cave and the white of the gan were loosed upon a grey world. No matter what I am now, it is what I had to be. There were two options and one would kill me. What could I do but choose the darkness? God forced me into it. He gave me a mouth to speak but would not listen; the eyes to cry, but He did not see.
He created me, but He did not love me.
Sometimes I go out of my cave and sit in the summer grass, smelling the lilac on the breeze. Those are the nights when I don't care for my demonic impulses, when all I want is the soft earth and the dim, dark stars. I remember nights in the garden and the first night outside. I do not miss the garden, but I don't miss those first nights outside, either. I made my choices and I do not regret them.
But as I sit outside, sometimes I wonder how God felt when I left. I do not know if he felt betrayed, or only angry that His words had been disobeyed. I wonder what I am, if I am not His daughter.
And sometimes I wonder, Father, if you ever loved me—and if you'll ever love me again.