[ WP ] Satan prevents a suicide .

It was a pregnant moment, heavy with emotion, when I finally put the barrel in my mouth. I had tried so hard to be useful, helpful, meaningful, given my blood, sweat, and tears to the world in exchange for the promise of importance, and it had all come to nothing. He was hated, feared, even despised by his family and friends. None of them would admit their disgust, but he could see it. He could *feel* their negativity. He could taste it on every breath of air he shared with them, hear it in every lying word to drip out of their mouths. 
 
 Nothing was left here for me anymore. The gun between my teeth was the only answer left to me. Everything I touched went vile and rotten, and in my 16 years of living, I had caused more misery than happiness. The only way I could think to hurt them all as much as they deserved was by leaving violently. I knew, in my bones, that the relief they felt would send them all into spasms of guilt and sorrow for feeling that relief. 
 
 That is when it happened. One second, I was alone in my room, my teeth clamped around the muzzle of the gun, the next I was seated in a plush armchair, across from a man in a suit of crimson, with jet black hair. He was smiling genially at me, and I could feel a blazing sort of heat around me, like being inside of a blazing inferno. To my surprise, the heat felt comfortable and soothing, as if I were suddenly much more resistant to it. The gun was gone from my hand, and instead sat on the lap of the man before me, who was stroking it gently with his left hand, as if touching a beloved pet. 
 
 As I sat there, staring at him, his smile grew wider, and he began to speak to me, his voice a rich bass unlike any I had ever heard. James Earl Jones would have worshipped this man's voice as better than his ever could be. And although the things he said should have disturbed me, they sounded normal in that furnace room with the Man In Crimson stroking my gun like a cat. 
 
 `` Guns are so interesting, do n't you think? Death as swift as sound, and as easy to use as clenching a finger. I personally consider them one of my crowning achievements. The best thing since the Black Death. Kill them *en masse*, and make it **easy**. That's what I said. Give them a tool that will wipe all of them out one by one, and make it so easy a child can use it.'' The man paused, glancing down at the gun for a moment, as if admiring it, before once more meeting my eye, that smile of his never slipping out of place. `` Did you know that the average year in the United States sees over 40,000 suicides by gun? It's a favorite among you humans. Quick, painless, easy. Guns are everywhere there.'' His voice trailed off, but those eyes never left mine. Something felt wrong about his eyes to me, but I could n't figure it out. Shaking my head, I thought about his words, and spoke. 
 
 `` Are you trying to say you invented guns? You do n't look 400 years old to me. ``, I sneered at him, unable to help myself. The man simply smiled wider, and kept staring at me. After a moment, I spoke again, my discomfort goading me into filling the silence. `` Who are you, anyway? Am I dead and just ca n't remember pulling the trigger?'' 
 
 With a suddenness that made me jump, the man started to laugh loudly, the sound sinister in my ears, and just as suddenly he stopped, that insufferable smile back in an instant. `` You are by no means dead yet, Lucian. You are alive, and technically, still in your room with the muzzle of a gun between your lips, seconds from pulling the trigger. As for who I am? I am none other than Satan. And I have come here for a very special reason.'' 
 
 My disbelief must have been painted on my face, because he laughed again, more quietly this time. His smile never moved though. 
 
 `` You should not be surprised. You can not have believed you would see God after committing the sins you have and will commit. He may forgive those who ask, but he does n't care for those who do n't. That is why I am here, actually. God may not care, but I have decided that I do. You see, as a former Angel, I have some limited ability to sense the future. My abilities tell me that in a very short time, the ending battle will be fought. In fact, this very second, the new Messiah plays with blocks and action figures in his home, unaware of who he is. You may question why I know this and have not stopped him yet. The answer is a simple one, although not an easy one to believe.'' Pausing again, he looked down to his lap again, the gun suddenly gone and replaced by a very old-looking piece of parchment, the letters spindly and foreign, the paper seeming to glow or shine with some inner light. Holding it up, Satan smiled at me again, shaking it a little. `` Do you happen to know what this is?'' 
 
 As I shook my head, he nodded, as if I merely confirmed something he knew. 
 
 `` This is the Covenant of Creation, signed by both myself and Jehovah at the moment of our agreement, and since that moment, acknowledged by neither of us. Nevertheless, it is holy and powerful. In it is written the prophecy of our final battle, waged through our proxies. Mine being the Destroyer of Faith, the Anti-Christ, his being Jesus Christ, the Messiah of Humanity.'' With a sigh, he rubbed his eye for a second. `` I'm not sure why I waste all of this explanation on you. You surely are n't caring. So let me make my case. I am *sick* and **tired** of this stupid war between myself and God. I am done with it. Oblivion is all I desire anymore. I have n't enjoyed our war for centuries now. And if you die, the war will wage much longer.'' 
 
 Unable to keep my mouth shut, I spoke then, interrupting the man before me. `` What do I have to do with this war?'' 
 
 `` I am glad you asked. You, my dear suicide, are destined to be one of the leaders of the faithful and the Angels in the final battle. You help to defeat my hordes.'' 
 
 `` But why do you want that!? Are n't you the one who tried to overthrow God? To take the throne and become Lord of Creation? Why would you help God's armies by stopping my death?'' 
 
 `` Because I want to lose. Winning this battle does not mean I win the war. I have won all of the battles so far. Hundreds of them. And they will not end until good triumphs over evil. I want to lose, so that I can finally rest. You have no clue how heavy this crown can be.'' 
 
 `` Why should I help God? He's never helped me.'' 
 
 `` Yes he has. You refuse to accept that help though. Open the box under your bed when you awake, and you will see. I must go now. I have grown weary of this illusion. I wish to find something else to do.'' 
 
 And just like that, I was back in my room with the gun in my mouth. The gun that suddenly tasted of brimstone and decay. I spit it out, putting it aside with a feeling of disgust. I do not know to this day why I ever considered suicide. 
 
 Getting up, I looked around my room, and everything seemed different. The room seemed lighter somehow, and better. I felt like I was refreshed, and the world no longer hated me. 
 
 I felt saved. 
 
 *Three Weeks Later* 
 
 A long time had passed since my experience. I no longer hated my life, or the world. I felt like I had a purpose. And I also felt like something important was under my bed. Kneeling down, I pulled it out from under my bed, opening it slowly. I could hardly believe what was inside. 
 
 Atop a pile of robes in a white and gold fabric lay a circlet of silver, the etching masculine and divine. I could see strange letters among the designs and knew somehow that they were in Aramaic, that ancient language of Biblical times. Pulling out my new outfit, I saw that under them was a black book, with a list of names inside of it, along with all of the contact information for many people, along with dates when the information was usable. Some of the people listed inside the pages could not be reached for another ten years, and I knew that what Satan had said was true. 
 
 I was destined to help Good win. I was destined to be great. 
 
 
 
 
 
 As soon as the young man lifted free the book, Lucifer knew. He smiled to himself, his attention wavering as he listened to the boys thoughts. It was so amusing to lead humans to believe the best of even the most evil being ever told to them. They always seek to find the best in anyone, and blind themselves in the process. 
 
 Turning away from the demonic birthing pens, he smirked, listening to the boy rattling on in his own head about the beautiful things he would do in God's name and how good it would feel to be worthy of God's love again. The fool. 
 
 Why would Satan save anyone from death unless they were meant to serve Evil? The Anti-Christ should know that in his heart, but he was half-human. Poor benighted fool. 
 
 And yet, it would be satisfying to tell him the truth after he destroyed the world with his good intentions.
