Simon Chase... Half angel. Half demon. Which side has control?
During that first week of becoming the other half of what I truly am, my mother could barely function because of what I did to my father. The killing of my father was only the first of the horrible things I would do or try to do during that first week.
My mother was sitting on the couch resting with her head back. She said that she heard me rummaging around in the kitchen so she got up and came in to see what I was doing.
She poked her head in and I rushed at her with a screwdriver from the drawer. She grabbed my hand and pulled the screwdriver out. She held me by my shoulders and I kicked her in the stomach, doubling her over. I then pulled her hair. I was too small to tear it out, but I knew if I was bigger I would have ripped it out by the roots. She pried my fingers from her hair and grabbed me. Her hand rose above her head and quickly came down slapping me hard in the face. While I was dazed, she picked me up and wrapped me in the blanket that we had in the living room for cuddle time. She looked at me crying, saying that she was sorry and she didn’t mean it. I spit in her face and was gnashing my teeth. She screamed at me, “What’s wrong with you? Why are you doing this, Simon?” I screamed back calling her a whore and said that my father deserved worse than what I did.
Every time she tried to remove me from the blanket I would start lashing out at her with my hands or feet. I would try anything just to hurt her. The only time Mom would have any respite from my behavior was when I was too exhausted to stay awake.
My mom walked in on me as I was biting the ear off of our cat Scribbles. Scribbles our all white alley cat got into my room somehow and came up to me to brush against my face. She won’t come near me now when it starts getting close to my week in the basement. She knows what I am.
When I wasn’t trying to physically harm my mom I was completely silent and barely moving. I would blink once every forty minutes. My eyes would be blood red from the lack of moisture. It got to the point to where my mom would mist water on my face just so my eyes would be lubricated.
She told me that on the fifth day of my transformation she went into my room where I was tied to the bed sleeping. In her hand was a plastic shopping bag. Her plan was to suffocate me because she felt that there was no hope left for me.
My mother sat down on my floor. Crumpled the bag in her hand and wept. She pleaded with God for Him to forgive her for having such thoughts and coming so close to acting on them.
According to my mother, it felt like someone was pulling on an invisible rope attached to her spine. She said that all of her fear went away at that moment. Something inside her said that it was her job to care for me and teach me how to control what I was. There was no one else capable or filled with the amount of pure love that was needed to help me. It was as if God Himself was speaking to her through feelings instead of words.
On May 1st the seventh day, my mother went by the door of my room and heard whimpering coming from inside. She opened the door and I was still tied to the bed covered in my own urine and feces. I was crying. I said how sorry I was for what I did and that I shouldn’t be allowed to live anymore. She walked up to me fighting through her fear, slowly reached her shaking hand to touch my face and I did not try to bite her, instead I tried to kiss her. She then quickly untied me and pulled me into her for a motherly hug that I can still feel whenever my week of evil is at its end.
From that first week my mother knew what I truly am.
I am an Angel of the Lord…and a Demon of Hell.