Chapter Text
He could only take refuge in the cabinet under the sink. It was the only thing he could do to stay steady, to keep from completely falling apart. Of course, there were better shelter options, like the beautiful ducts! However, this body was disgustingly weak and wasn’t even able to crawl toward one. And that’s saying something, since this vessel was already delicate to begin with. Only now it was worse than ever.
The world was spinning around him, everything dancing sickeningly in its usual gray hues, blending objects that clearly shouldn’t be mixed, and for brief moments he even lost his sense of reality.
This had never happened to him before; he couldn’t get sick—if that were the case, he was a demon. Abaddon, the imposing cobra king! Beside the fact that this vessel was incapable of getting sick—it could get hurt, but never sick! He would remember it.
The pain struck him suddenly, as if he’d been stabbed, tearing a groan from him. He was sweating, writhing in his corner in shame, barely breathing, struggling to stay conscious.
"—Damn body... damn vessel... damn cult!" he growled thru clenched teeth, coughing deliberately before finally being able to hold his breath normally again.
Curling up in the corner, he made use of that unnatural peace.
This must be from traveling thru time so much. He knew full well that at certain moments his vessel could no longer endure and, unfortunately, needed a “rest.”
But he hadn’t needed one in years. Until he started trying to save the Freelings. Had he worn himself out? Maybe. Anyway, he had reviewed the history of humanity multiple times, and in this last line he had confessed what had happened with Esther during his moment of weakness! Luckily, she didn’t believe it too much, or it would have been utterly embarrassing.
He clicked his tongue, curled up among the cleaning supplies, and forced herself to keep her eyes open. He hadn’t slept in centuries; he didn’t really need it. However, now... fighting didn’t seem like an option; he could just give in to sleep and be done with it, even if it hurt his pride.
But he couldn’t allow it; this wasn’t normal. He was sure that if he closed his eyes something would happen—he wouldn’t wake up in time and wouldn’t be there to prevent it. That frightened him, even if the feeling was unworthy, even if there was no danger now.
He blinked, rubbing his eyes as hard as he could without hurting himself, forcing himself to stay conscious. Trying sincerely.
"This..." He swallowed; a drop of cold sweat trickled down his forehead.
"The temptation..."
Another blink, but this time his eyes didn’t obey his commands. Keeping them closed.
"It's too much."
The darkness cruelly consumed him, leaving him unconscious… or, as many would call it, asleep.
╞══════════╡
Warm hands took hold of his hair, caressing it tenderly. Calloused fingertips brushed against his scalp with such pure, unusual affection that it only happened on special days, like his birthday, which, fortunately, was today.
"Don't get too close to the forest." Wait for your brother to go, okay? Take care, son. -The man stroked the infant’s head, smiling as he leaned down and kissed his forehead. An act of tenderness that a man as upright and strict as Father James rarely let anyone witness.
The infant stuck out his tongue, feigning disgust at the caress for a few seconds before bursting into innocent laughter and hugging his father.
"—I'm big now!" "I can take care of myself, I assure you," he boasted haughtily, earning a shake of the head from the older man.
"Arrogance goes before destruction; humility precedes honor, Zachariah," he replied firmly, his gaze hardening for a moment before he let out a sigh and walked away with a smile.
The boy twisted his expression. Sometimes his father spoke more in proverbs than in real words. But he loved him. I admired him despite everything.
Maybe too much.
"—I know…" She rolled her eyes in boredom as she watched her dad head back inside the house. He was impatiently waiting for his older brother, huffing loudly when he finally showed up. “Took you long enough! Let’s go—I’ve got some excellent tricks to show the universe!” And they won’t let me go without you.
"—Unfortunately, we’re in the same boat, come on," he said, offering his hand to the boy, who accepted it without hesitation, clinging to it as they began to walk together.
Before closing the door, the eldest brother allowed himself to gaze at his parents’ shadows, listening to their voices—which he still couldn’t understand—as if everything were normal.
He liked it when his house felt like that—a home.
It’s a shame these moments were fleeting.
They walked along a path with no particular destination; at least the teenager was just following his brother, scanning their surroundings to make sure they didn’t stray too far more from the town or from the demon he had as a younger brother trying to scare him, like leading him to an insect nest just as he had the last time he let his guard down.
"—Okay, that’s enough," he said, tugging the younger boy’s hand and stopping when he noticed the forest looming eerily nearby. He didn’t dare take another step.
"—What!? But there are a bunch of kids around here! "Don't you see?" he pointed to figures about his age, not far from where they were, playing and laughing. "I can't concentrate with all their nonsense!"
"—Language, besides..." "Someone explicitly said they wanted to go out, so don’t complain now," he argued, letting go of the boy’s hand. "Go play; I’ll wait here."
"—Weren't you going to play with me?" he hesitated.
"—I'm not in the mood," the young man stated.
"—You're boring, Gabriel!" -he protested, stomping the foot. However, seeing no reaction from the other boy, he simply stepped back a bit. Pulling out his jump rope to start playing by himself, it wasn’t like it bothered him; anyway, not all kids understood his eccentricity (his own mother’s words, not his).
Gabriel watched him play for a few minutes, then turned his attention to some young people his age who weren’t far away. Smiling, he walked toward them. It never hurt to take advantage of these moments of freedom to hang out with his friends. Zachariah was smart enough not to do something stupid so soon.
No?
The little one was quick to notice his older brother’s distraction, smiling broadly at it and taking the opportunity to wander farther away. Not too clear! But loud enough not to hear the boisterous voices of the other children having fun; the noise they made was utterly annoying, and he didn’t think his ears could take it anymore.
I preferred the chirping of the little birds; it was much more bearable to listen to, and beside, the forest had perfect trees for shade!
One jump followed by another, 1…2…3…
He looked at the jump rope in his hands, frowning. This was boring by myself; I hated playing alone!
Of course, Gabriel thot he was “mature” enough not to go with him anymore… And he was still sleeping with his arms wrapped around a rag doll his mom had made for him years ago! It didn’t make sense. He mostly wouldn’t have minded this situation since he could spend it with Abraham, his best friend.
However, to his dismay, going to get him wasn’t an option right now; he’d left a few weeks ago to help his father with some sales or some such nonsense in a neighboring town. His other option was Beatriz, Mr. Pilgrim’s daughter, but the hatred he and that man shared was so mutual that he wouldn’t let his daughter spend time with him.
"—Tsk..." I watched the tiny figures of the other kids in the distance, having so much fun together; they looked like ants.
He raised his hand. The best he could do was imagine them, picture them as insects, and one day simply…
He brought his fingers together, pretending to crush them.
Smiling tenderly as they disappeared from view, albeit briefly, "Someday..." You just have to be patient. He went back to his own game, resigned until he heard a voice.
"Can I play with you?"
-was gentle and childlike, but there was something about her that didn’t belong to any child. A deep resonance, an ancient echo. He had never heard it before; that caught his attention.
"—Excuse me?" Zachariah turned slowly.
There was no one there.
The air, however, was different: colder, thicker.
He turned his gaze toward the source of the question, from within the forest. "It doesn't sound like a child," he said to himself, stepping forward to peer thru the undergrowth.
"Can I... play with you?" the stranger repeated. This time the infant was better able to pinpoint where the voice was coming from, looking up.
And then he saw it.
Two huge, gray eyes were watching him from the shadows. Eyes that seemed to have no bottom.
The boy’s heart beat strongly. Not fear, but wonder.
It was almost as tall as the trees, easily camouflaged, and reminded him of stick insects. Could it be a variant with advanced capabilities, like the ability to communicate?
Zachariah felt a shiver run down his spine.
His breathing quickened, but he didn’t back down.
He was curious. He always had been.
"—Hello," he tilted his head, smiling shyly. "You're weird, it's a pleasure to meet you!" He extended his hand toward the being, without any fear. "My name is Zachariah, and yours?" the boy inquired confidently, unaware of the danger he faced.
The demon said nothing at the moment, only nodding when he heard the name of his future vessel, leaning forward to extend a claw and accept his handshake.
"Abaddon," the demon replied, although the boy still didn't understand what that was. Under other circumstances, it would have bothered him, but now it was necessary to keep a low profile; that would make everything easier.
╞══════════╡
Darkness. That was all there was: an immense, suffocating darkness all around him, like infinite space. He couldn't breathe.
Where were his parents? Why did everything feel so small?
I wasn’t one to feel fear, but at that moment I was terrified.
"—Dad?" "Mom? Mommy!" He shook himself, stretching and trying to find a less uncomfortable position as he tried to figure out where he was. Objects fell at his unrestrained touch. He didn’t care; he needed to get out of wherever he was. Soon, his legs collided with what seemed to be a wall, presumably a very unstable one; it reminded him of the door of the wardro—
"A door!" he kicked it repeatedly, concluding that it was his only escape route, with more force and anguish than the initial blow. He could hear the wood splintering, but it didn’t matter. Whoever had dared to lock him up was going to pay!
The closet door swung open abruptly minutes later, revealing what appeared to be a family dining room, tho the most important thing now was that there was light and air.
He crawled out of the cramped space, inhaling the oxygen, filling his lungs with that vital sustenance with palpable relief, as he surveyed his surroundings, adjusting to the light.
"—What..." "Curious," he said. It was as if he’d already been here before; it didn’t feel entirely unfamiliar, which was even stranger because he had never been here before. It was like seeing the future or a fever dream; was it a dream? There were too many objects he didn’t recognize.
The dining room door suddenly burst open with a crash that startled him, jolting him out of his thoughts. Making him instinctively look toward whoever had entered.
A drowsy, adult female figure appeared, walking lazily and carelessly toward what looked like a metal drawer(?). Barely noticing it.
"—Excuse me..." He got up from the floor, brushed the dust off his clothes, and cautiously approached the woman, gently tugging on the robe she was wearing in hopes of catching her attention.
"Good morning, Ab..." she murmured in response, something I didn’t quite catch. She seemed more focused on her search for whatever was in that cold closet.
She didn’t say anything about it, just followed her movements, waiting for more from the stranger: help, a threat, an action. But the most memorable thing she did was draw water from that contraption, drink straight from the pitcher, and then leave as suddenly as she’d appeared.
Didn’t she mind that a child she didn’t know was in her kitchen? She seemed resigned.
She couldn’t even say for sure that he’d been kidnaped. I was expecting a more chilling performance, and that woman definitely wasn’t acting like one.
She must have asked for help. "She should have," but the woman had already left, leaving him alone and confused. It seemed like he had to find the exit on his own!
The place where I was was peculiar; it looked dilapidated, barely staying upright. However, at the same time it was strangely beautiful, although curiously it didn’t have a single cross or religious object. It seemed very out of place; perhaps those who lived here hadn’t yet accepted God into their hearts? That couldn’t be a good sign. Who would protect them? Was this place even blessed? He wouldn’t be surprised if it was filled with evil, like a curse, as his father would say.
He opened the hostel door carefully, trying to make as little noise as possible, not wanting to alert anything unwanted. He was still in an unfamiliar place, alone. They hadn’t done anything to him yet, but that didn’t guaranty things would stay that way later on, and he wasn’t stupid; if he had the chance to leave, he’d take it without hesitation.
He stumbled out of the house, allowing himself a brief moment to admire the facade before continuing on his way. He didn’t really know where he was going, he didn’t know where he was, and therefore he didn’t know which way to go. Which, strangely, didn’t matter much to him now; everything seemed to be on autopilot, even as he headed straight into the forest.
ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ
"Maybe if I subtract it, I'll get the..." He paused for a moment, staring at the unsolved math problem printed in his notebook, biting the tip of the pen he used to "concentrate better." He wasn’t exactly the best at problems in general, but if this meant he could sit at lunch with new friends instead of his sister (or, in the worst case, alone, as he usually did), he’d gladly do it.
"—Ben!"—
The aforementioned man’s tranquility was interrupted by the redhead’s arrival, which wouldn’t have been too important to him if it weren’t for the fact that, thanks to it, he’d bitten his pen and now had a mouthful of spilled ink.
While Ben struggled to get the ink out of his mouth, Esther barely paid attention, more focused on looking around for someone—"Do you know where Abaddon is?" "We were supposed to go out together, but I can’t find him. I’ve already searched the ducts and even asked the ghosts!" the girl exclaimed, clearly annoyed.
"—Uhm.. "I don't know, I think he's already gone," he replied, puzzled by the question, since he usually turned to him for help. But he couldn’t pay it any more attention; he was too busy spitting out the mouthful of ink.
The young woman kept rambling, interrupting herself when she heard that—"He's gone..." And without me?" She found it strange to articulate it; it seemed unreal. Abaddon wouldn’t just leave her like that, she was sure.
She couldn’t delve into her thoughts for long, as the dull sound of trees swaying distracted her, drowning out Ben’s groan, who was now suffering for having accidentally spat ink onto someone’s homework. There was no reason for the noise to be coming from the forest unless someone was entering or leaving it, and she was quite certain that the person at the table in the middle of a crisis was her brother, who had just asked her mother about Abaddon a moment ago.
She approached the window above the sink, which offered a perfect view outside. He leaned out, only to find a familiar figure emerging from the bushes and trees: Abaddon, who, as if nothing had happened, continued walking with an object in his hands that glowed intensely. She was sure it was a jewel he’d most likely found looting a tomb, as always. What offended her was that he went without her when he’d promised they’d go together! (That, and he didn’t seem to have any intention of sharing his loot; Abaddon wasn’t one to share often.)
"—He left without me!"—"And he's carrying something shiny..." She didn’t say it out loud, but that didn’t mean it was any less important.
"Abaddon!"
She shouted the demon’s name, chasing after it, while Ben was still trying to figure out how to fix the mess made in one of his bullies’ notebooks.
His fingernails now had dirt caked under them; he was sweaty and filthy, disgusting, which would surely earn the little boy a punishment if his father or mother found him. But none of them were there, and he didn’t know where to look. The only comfort he had was a rosary in his hand, his rosary, which he found after digging in the earth for what seemed like hours. His body should have been aching from the effort, the boy knew, but surprisingly, throughout his ordeal—even when his hands began to bleed—he felt nothing. It was only when he found his rosary that he felt a slight burning between his fingers.
"How come there wasn't one at the hotel?" They’re important.
-His gaze fell on the rosary he wore, the proof of his faith, his mother’s gift, his way of feeling close to God with every prayer. The precious stones that adorned it, along with the cold iron that formed it, sparkled intensely thanks to the sun acting as a reflector. It would be almost exactly as it was when he lost it if not for a few missing gems, some rusted parts, and the dirt that clung to it—no matter how much he scrubbed, it wouldn’t come off.
"How did I end up here?"
Doubt finally took root in his mind as he processed what was happening. This wasn’t a dream; he’d confirmed it with the pain that didn’t wake him up.
"Mom and Dad must be worried if Gabriel hasn't found me..." I looked up at the sky, lost in thought; I wasn’t sure if I was close to home, but I couldn’t confirm it either. He had never gone so far, let alone alone, since Gabriel, by rule, always had to watch over him—a big brother’s duty, he supposed.
"—Ouch!" He dropped the rosary to the floor as the burning sensation snapped him back to reality, stunned. He looked at his swollen, blistered hand, then at the cross on the floor. There was nothing wrong with her, so how...? Oh.
«I will be your friend.»
He bit his cheek at the memory. His memory, blank until now, was beginning to work. Fuzzy memories that seemed more like his hallucinations after stealing some concoction, but he was sure they must have happened somehow, even tho he was certain those memories didn’t belong to him.
"What could that demon have done?"
It was the only thing he could think of to explain his situation. He didn’t remember ending up here on his own, so someone else must have caused it.
He pressed his lips together, getting used to the pain that had only just begun to fade by the time he bent down to pick up the rosary. Once again, he carried it even tho it burned—"It hasn't gone away"—if he had nothing else, he could carry the blessed object normally, which wasn't the case. The demon hadn’t left, but if it hadn’t left, how was he still conscious? "Maybe something weakened it," he thought, which had to stay that way.
His hand was burning, his arm sending waves of desperate signals to his brain: he had to let go of the rosary, he needed to stop the torture, he was hurting himself, he was bleeding.
It vaguely reminded him of the punishments he sometimes endured for doubting his faith; how the embers burned his skin, tearing it, melting it, without destroying it. Just a reminder. A punishment he hated with all his soul, but now he repeated it in a very similar way to save himself, just as others repeated it: “to save oneself from sin.”
"I need to find Dad," he said, closing his eyes in a futile tried to avoid crying. This suffering could only be avoided if he found the best exorcist he knew. He needed his dad now; he needed his help, some familiar comfort.
A touch on his shoulder startled him, accompanied by a strangely familiar voice—one that only appeared in memories that weren’t his. Instinctively, he turned around, clumsily backing away from the figure in front of him: a girl no taller than he was, with fair skin and brown eyes, wearing strange clothing that he didn’t have time to think much about when she spoke to him again. He recognized that voice perfectly. That girl had spoken with the demon; she was his ally, she was a witch.
"—Abaddon? "What's wrong?"—he approached the boy, his friend. Except this was no longer Abaddon.
Tears welled up in his eyes, whether from pain or helplessness he couldn’t tell at that moment.
"—Get away from me, witch!" "Daughter of Satan!" - He might have exaggerated. Perhaps that girl was just another victim of that entity’s charm, who, using her childlike body, was able to deceive her and thus forge a friendship. But if that wasn’t the case, she was still just a girl he was facing, and in that state he preferred not to fight a stranger (especially not a girl; he hadn’t been raised properly). He took off running without looking back, clutching the crucifix as if it would protect him from all evil, even tho it was now burning him even more because of how tightly he was holding it.
For her part, Esther remained still in her place, processing that attitude, that voice.
"—That... "That can't be Abaddon," he frowned, replacing his shock with that expression. That wasn’t Abaddon; Abaddon didn’t act like that. Something was wrong, and I was going to find out.
╞══════════╡
"—You have to listen to me!" "Something's wrong with Abaddon," he exclaimed, following his mother.
"Esther, I'd understand if it were Ben, but it's Abaddon—there's always something wrong with him," she dismissed the concern, continuing on her way. She had a lot of things to do, and worrying about Abaddon wasn’t going to be another one on the list—“Maybe he ate a bat; go and…”
"Mom, something's wrong with Abaddon!" Ben's sudden appearance took Katherine by surprise, leaving her momentarily paralyzed.
For Esther to tell her that something was strange about Abaddon was curious, but not strange. But Ben? Ben was more inclined to ignore that strangeness, and if he couldn’t ignore it this time, then something serious was going on.
Katherine allowed her children to lead her to the demon, listening attentively to their complaints:
"He acts like he doesn't even know me! He went on an adventure without me, and when I told him we should go get some bones, he looked at me like I had a third head."
"When I ran into him, he didn’t do anything to me! He just looked at me in a disturbing way and left."
The more complaints she heard, the more confused the woman became.
"—Wait, are you saying there’s something wrong with him because he’s..." Normal? "-Abaddon being normal also sounded abnormal to her, but it didn't seem really bad like her children described.
"Too normal, too good to be true!" Ben replied, guiding his mother alongside Esther, tho both seemed more focused on complaining about the situation.
"Come on, Buddy, you can talk to me"—her brother Nathan’s voice didn’t go unnoticed by Katherine. Looking in that direction, she was met with a sight that was, in fact, strange: Nathan speaking softly to Abaddon, as if he were a child. Which wasn’t strange until he turned to look at Abaddon, who looked oddly frightened, cowering, barely making eye contact with Nathan as if he feared him—which was impossible.
"—You can tell me what's wrong; you know you can trust me," she assured the demon sitting at the counter, who hadn't said a word to her since she found him crying in some random part of the hotel.
"—Nathan?" she called out to her brother, who quickly looked at her, visibly relieved.
"Oh, Katherine!" "Here you are; the kids were looking for you, weren’t they?" He turned his attention away from the strange Abaddon, smiling slightly at Katherine’s appearance.
"—Yes..." And according to them, something’s going on with Abaddon. Could you tell me what it is?" She raised an eyebrow, curious, waiting.
"—Well, he's quieter than usual; I tried to get him to tell me, but I couldn't, so..."—Before he could finish, he was interrupted.
"Wait, is everyone making a fuss because Abaddon is finally calm?" "Come on! No wonder I didn’t wake up with coins today," She said with a laugh that had no humor in it.
"—Abaddon"—a small voice interrupted the conversation, capturing the attention of both the adults and the younger ones—"My name isn’t..." "Abaddon"—he seemed to speak with doubt, shaking his head before raising his gaze, firm—"My name is Zachariah"—he affirmed in a trembling voice, unable to maintain eye contact with the family for long before breaking down.
"—I'm sorry if I'm not who you're looking for"—he sounded broken, too pitiful, too genuine—"I don't know where I am..." But If you would be so kind as to help me, God will reward you! He always does, and I would be very grateful.
"—Zachariah?" Is Abaddon okay? "Are you sure you didn't eat something you shouldn't have?" Nathan asked, while Ben commented in the background that this was a very creepy joke (presumably more so than any they'd pulled before).
"I don’t think he’s lying. Nathan, Abaddon isn’t like that, can you hear his voice? "He can't be pretending," she said, looking at the boy in front of her with suspicion. "He's not Abaddon; he's the child he possessed, the vessel." She had no proof, but she had no doubts either. That wasn’t how Abaddon was.
"—The vessel? "Wasn't Abaddon bound to it?" Esther questioned.
"—Exactly!" That can’t be it… "Or is it?" Nathan wondered, deep in thought.
"—Abaddon is free now!? "He didn't even say goodbye!?" the redhead exclaimed in alarm. "Abaddon wouldn't do that to them, would he?"
"—Ahm..." "Hey," Ben tried to get their attention, subtly pointing at Abaddon. Zachariah? Who was now crying, had never seen Abaddon cry, nor had he imagined it possible—"Maybe it’s a bad time…" Well, they really picked a terrible time to talk about that in front of a kid who’s probably traumatized,” he said, watching the boy run off.
"Wait!" "We still have so much to talk about!"—and Esther chased after him; it wasn’t going to end well, right?—
╞══════════╡
A container—is that all it was? A container? That’s how they knew him now. No one knew him now.
The demon: Abaddon, his friend, his captor.
Now he remembered his game perfectly: sweet words, superficial understanding, acceptance. Everything that made him fall into the wolf’s mouth, allowing him to use him as a puppet.
His father: dead. He vaguely remembered the day, his attempt to save him, how they then fell down the ravine, his scream, and how his father embraced him as they fell. That was and will be the last time he ever felt his affection.
His mother and brother: he remembers their expressions before everything happened; his mother was crying and his brother seemed resigned. I hoped they hadn’t suffered so much.
A scream escaped his lips as he fell to the ground, followed by the little girl from a moment ago, who held him tightly. She had more strength than I imagined.
"—Stay right there!" You... You must know what happened to Abaddon, right? "Hey!"—he shook him, not too roughly but still enough. Unfortunately, he couldn’t respond; he was too busy finally mourning the death of his family. What an incredible way to be welcomed back to consciousness, right?
"—Esther, stop it already!" Katherine came up from behind, grabbing her daughter and holding her back to separate her from the boy. "Don’t scare him anymore; he doesn’t understand what’s going on."
"But Mom!" "If anyone knows what happened to Abaddon, it has to be him!" she justified, pouting.
"Calm down. Esther, give the guy some time!" If Abaddon had managed to break free, he definitely wouldn’t have left without saying goodbye—I know him!” Nathan declared, stepping between the young woman and her… Protected or unprotected? Supposedly it wasn’t about Abaddon anymore, so it was confusing.
"—The demon hasn’t gone," the boy commented; Zachariah was sure of it—the crucifix, now put away, still made him feel sick.
"—See?" Abaddon is still here! Somehow... -I murmured nervously, quickly reverting to my characteristic cheerfulness-"You have nothing to worry about!"
And they spoke; he could hear them arguing but didn’t dare get involved. He was equally caught up in his own affairs.
«How long has it been? How much did I miss?»
A question to which he received no answer; he didn’t need one. He knew that a lot of time had passed—at least, that’s what he could surmise from the fleeting memories that flooded him and from the strange place he now found himself in.
He had lost everything: his family and friends.
I had nothing; now I was the shell of a goddamn hellspawn, also known as that.
The demon won.
I didn’t need confirmation; I could sense it.
That family; the one of memories, of brief glimpses from when he still didn’t have complete control, when he still felt trapped.
It's his family, Abaddon's family.
«He's happy while he stole my life?»
This reality was certainly bitter.
His hands rummaged thru his pockets, taking hold of and clutching the hidden rosary. He raised his gaze to that family, without even reacting to the pain, and if anyone saw him they would surely think he was still lamenting.
And he was, pain consumed him just as much as anger. But now he was also planning, plotting how to return the favor.
«An eye for eye, demon»