How could he have not seen? How could he have been blind to the agony in her eyes when he spoke that way? How could he have not seen the tears he had drawn from her when he longed for death as a release? She had been confined to a prison with white walls, her longing the only thing keeping her alive. She had longed for him. To see him. If only he had not been consumed… If only he had a second chance…
…in a world full of Pain and deadly Snares, there lies Misery and Fury…
Black paint dripped from the canvas as blackness seeped over it, devouring the canvas. Much like darkness devoured life. Once one thought about it, it grew and grew, devouring the mind… the body… the heart… and finally, the soul would be consumed. And if the soul was consumed, one would no longer have that sense of longing, or that drive, to continue life. One would no longer see the meaning within life. Every life has a purpose. Even the blind can see that. If only the consumed could as well.
Chapter 1: The Rise of Misery
Anti-depressants, horrible workaholic parents, failing grades, and 0 friends were the makings of a perfect life, right? If that were true, Michael would have no problem with his life at eighteen-years-old. However, it seemed every where he turned that darkness was waiting to consume him. Already, he had made an attempt of ending it all which had failed miserably when his mother walked in on him. Then came the sucky counselor that recommended all this crap that really didn't do him any good.
So now, he was on the streets. He had run away. And to add a bit of excitement to his meaningless, dreary life, he had gotten himself mixed up with a gang. In fact, this was the night he planned to join. He'd done exactly as their leader, Frankie, had asked. There was no way they could turn him away.
"Twenty grand—just like you said," Michael said as he held out a black bag of money to Frankie.
Frankie looked over it and seemed please. Eagerly, Michael awaited his decision. He was so close to being accepted for the first time. He was never accepted at any school; his parents hardly accepted him for who he was; and everywhere he turned there was always a stupid counselor to try and change him. A gang seemed to be the only thing he'd ever be accepted in. He was more than excited.
"So am I in?"
Frankie glanced at the three other members he had brought with him, one in particular, Jazz, and gave a sharp nod. "Yeah, kid, you're in…"
As Michael's spirits brightened though he didn't show it on the outside, he failed to take note of the sharp object Jazz had drawn. It was only until said object was thrust into his right lung that he really took any notice at all. He tried to scream but he couldn't because of what the blade had pierced.
"…over your head," Frankie finished, turning away with his followers and leading out of the alley as Jazz finished the job, stabbing Michael three more times.
Michael was left to bleed out in the alley. He struggled for every breath. What a stupid move… He let himself be used and now killed by a gang. Pain like this was alien to him. It was also unbearable. His vision started to go black as his lung began to collapse.
That was when Anguish over took him. Not anguish—Anguish, the demon. The shadows around him began to move toward him, swallowing his frail, bloodied form. Then, the darkness began to crawl over him, covering him. Michael had no idea what was going on—he thought he was dying. The demon entered his vulnerable body, easily overthrowing Michael's mind and soul and taking his body as a host. What Anguish did not expect though was for Michael's soul and his spirit to become intertwined—fused—forming one.
His wounds no longer affecting his state of being, Michael stood slowly—or rather, Misery stood slowly.
Misery was a half demon. He was Michael. But he was also Anguish. He was a deadly combination of a troubled boy and a vicious demon. And the number one thing on Michael's mind now amplified by Anguish's malevolence was revenge.
His shirt and jacket was now stained with the red blood of his past life; his skin was now pale as a ghost; his lighter was now in his hand; and his mind was now set on vengeance.
Notice the difference between mind sets after possession.
Snare possessed a fresh corpse and received none of the body's former owner's personality, therefore remaining Snare.
Agony possessed Maliki and fused with his body but drowned much of Maliki's gentle nature and compassion, creating Pain.
Anguish took over Michael's dying form but received all of Michael's personality except for a few of his human emotions which had deteriorated during his depression.
There is no real pattern here if you'll notice—it's just fate.
Now would you like to know the rest of Misery's tragic story? If you said yes, review please.