His mother was a Goddess, born of stars and love, with a soul as pure as a tear. She was untouchable, unreachable, divine, and if she could, she would swallow him whole. Her bare breath tasted like a bleeding heart, her fur a rich river of coconut oil. And she was beautiful, unworldly mesmerizing, with soft fur made of the blackest night and eyes made of the rays of the setting sun. Her voice laced with sugar and honey, filled with poison and broken glass. She was an angel, a blessing sent by Gods, a creature so full of love, that she could never love him.
The day he was born, a moonless night among mists and vapors, she was tainted for the first time. When he opened his eyes and saw her as the first thing in this world, her beauty blinded him and shattered his soul.
At the same time, she looked at him and saw sin.
She saw pain and blood in eyes so similar to her own that it was as if she were looking into a mirror. His father and GOD looked into his eyes and prayed for salvation, as they saw things so dreadful and rotten that their hearts began to cry. He was to be born a saint, he was to have love in his eyes and salvation in his heart. But he was born broken. Corrupted by the hate and pain from which he was born.
Ashmedai.
The God whispered, casting an eternal curse on the pup. When his name was spoken, he felt as if his soul had been chained, his heart squeezed so hard that it broke.
That night, his mother killed him, hugging him with her teeth clenched around his neck.
My mother loves me.
Her beautiful laughter filled his ears.
My mother loves me.
"Die." She begged.
My mother loves me.
Because mothers always love their children. And her love took his breath away, her love pierced his skin and made him bleed. And scarlet blood mingled with her tears of love, before father tore her from the little, fragile body of her child. Because when she looked at her son, she saw a mirror. He was every scar she was, every mistake she made, every decision in her life and every flaw she saw. He was every love she has had, every hope and every dream that was taken forcefully from her.
He was sorrow, he was agony, he was pain and every unfulfilled wish. Her words and thoughts, all the hate that spilled out from her, all the loneliness and every devastating, heartbreaking regret.
Her love tasted bitter.
His mother was a Goddess, born of stars and love… and he was afraid.
His father was a Monster. Born of blood and broken bones, he always reeked of the stench of his sins. He was dirty, unworthy. His white as fresh snow fur was stained so heavily with blood that no matter how much he scrubbed and peeled off his skin, the stains never went away. His eyes were empty and tired, filled with bitterness.
He saw in his son a corruption greater than his, and was jealous of it. His father was stuck in the past, in his young years, with blood on his paws, poisoned with alcohol and pain. He was weak and fragile, filled with rage that poured out of him, drowning everyone, that knew his sharp teeth and long claws. He was consumed by faith, doing everything for the favor of the GOD, sacrificing blood of his blood for salvation. Asmoday was born with his father's rage, he gifted him with devotion and pride intertwined.
The first time his gaze fell on his child, he saw anger and fury so similar to his own, that he could swear he was looking in the mirror.
And yet, he was terrified. For despite the presence of its corruption, there was something else in that little pup. Something far more broken, far more disgusting.
And as soon as he saw that, he broke down, falling on the floor and cursing the Gods, begging for their mercy. He could not bear the sight of this monstrosity, nor dreams of what will happen when it grows up. He tried to destroy it many times, to weed out all the horror from his bloodline. But each time he tried, he was seized with a terror so overwhelming that he could not even think of touching it.
What a disgusting little thing.
Father cried whenever he laid eyes on his son, for when he could have let him die, he saved him. And when the monster began to grow, no one dared to hurt him anymore. For in the puppy's eyes they saw a fiery abyss that would someday consume them whole. Father tried to keep the monster at bay, but he never expected the monster to bite back one day.
Father never loved, though he was striving for it. He never knew how to love, and when mother showed him how to do it, he never respected her enough to take her advice.
There was rot in their house. It permeated the air, it sat beneath their feet. It has grown for so long, they were forgiven for ignoring it. After all, it held many forms, sometimes sitting on the couch, mostly lying under the floorboards. No matter what that did, they couldn't get rid of it. It was too embedded in the bones of their house, too comfortable clinging to their hearts.
And none of them noticed that their lungs were turning black.
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