The Devil Made Me Do It - by Ibn Abdullah 🦁

This is not a comfortable chair, I'll tell you that. Well, it's not like it was made for comfort. Far from it. Hi there. Welcome. I'm Jack. And I murdered my family. Ah, here they go, judging me again. As always. The least you can do is hear me out. Can you do that much? Thank you. In case you're wondering, why did I do it? Why did I murder my entire family? Mom, Dad, and even my little brother Timmy? I will assure you that I well and truly loved them. I did. But... I did it to save them. From what, you ask, dear reader? From destruction. From pain. From agony. I had no choice. I swear. I SWEAR! I SWEAR! You hear me? You have to believe me. I'm sure you must think I'm crazy. But I'll tell you anyway. I'll tell you what he told me and the future he showed me. Who's he? You'll find out soon enough. I was in a prison cell one day when I started hearing... things. A voice. I had gotten in a fight, you see, and ended up spending the night in jail. An intruder barged in that night. The words were incoherent at first, scrambled. "...save the..." I heard first. "Who's there?" I called. "They're... dange..." "...must... save... them." "Must save them." Those were the only words I could register. Who was I saving? From what? Oh, here come the guards. They'll soon begin, so I must hurry. I still have a tale to tell. I'll spare the filler and get straight to the details before they... you know... flip the switch. The voice sounded unlike anything I had ever heard. It was mystical, ethereal, otherworldly, and borderline imaginary. Kinda sounded like Aslan the lion from The Chronicles of Narnia. Have you watched it? Great movies. I preferred the books, though... but I digress. Where was I? Where was I? Oh yes... The voice. It came again. And again. And again. Day after day, the voice took moments to visit me, almost sounding annoyed or angry even. Each time it became clearer and clearer until I received the whole message. They are in danger. You must save them. I chose to ignore it. But that only made it even more persistent. Oh look, they're pressing buttons over there. They'll soon power the chair. I'll narrate faster, so keep listening. Be attentive. I won't repeat myself. There's no time for that. As I was saying... The voice grew restless, I guess, so it decided to take the drastic measure of... materializing into sight. Yes... You heard me right. You already think I'm crazy, I know it. But I'll tell you regardless. It was strange. The strangest experience o' my life. Hehe. Accent switch. "'Ello, governor." I remember lying awake in my room when I heard a call from the angry voice. At that point, I had gotten used to it. I never bothered telling anybody. Not Dad, not Mom, not Phil, not Steph, not Andre, not even Debbie. What would I tell them? "Mom, Dad, everyone... I hear voices in my head." How would that sound? What was I? Randy Orton? Of course I would sound and look utterly mad. "They counsel me, they understand, they talk to me..." Sorry. I had to do it. The voice decided that night to materialize. First appeared a hand from thin air: glowing fingers curled, then a palm outstretched, fingers apart. The process spread, and a full arm floated there. After that came the next arm. Threads appeared from thin air, entwining around hairy arms to clothe the being as it materialized. The lower body began to materialize as well. Symmetrical feet, ten toes, socks, hairy feet, and trousers traveling upward, the process meeting at the midsection. By the time the neck began to appear, the rest of the body was clothed in a classy Christian Dior suit. Or was it Armani? Meh. I don't know. The fully formed face revealed a masculine, clean-shaven man with a jawline that could cut paper, thick, luscious blond hair combed to the side in eighties fashion. "Hey," the man spoke. Now I know what you must be thinking. What was I doing while this magnificent event was unfolding? Well, here's what I was doing... Watching. Awestruck. You'll be surprised to find that I felt no real shock or terror at the sight... Simply awe. Not the reaction one would typically expect, but so it was. "Hey there," the man called before manifesting a cigar and pulling a lighter from his now-drooping trench coat. "It's not nice to ignore a man for so long." "Who or what are you?" I asked. "What do you mean, what?" the devilishly handsome man replied. "Who is more than enough." "Who are you then? An angel?" "Angel!" He laughed. "Please! Hell no. Well... Technically... I guess you could say... Nah. No. I'm not an angel." "Well, do you have a name?" I asked. "A name. Sure I do. Who doesn't?" "Well, what is it?" "My name is Nawtsei Tan." "Not Satan?" "It's pronounced Nawtsei Tan." "What kind of name is that?" "It's the name of the fallen." "What does that mean?" I asked. "Anyways..." he went on, "it's not nice, you know... ignoring me all that time." "Well, you were a bit annoying." "So much for selfless service," he replied. "I was but a warner." "A warner?" I raised an eyebrow. "Who was it that needs saving? From what?" Nawtsei Tan elegantly exhaled a cloud of smoke, and his expression shifted slightly. "Your family," he answered. That was the first moment I felt shock. "My family?" I gasped. "What do you mean?" Nawtsei Tan sighed. "Show, don't tell. C'mere." He held the cigar between his index finger and thumb. "Closer." He walked toward me and pressed the lit end of the cigar against my forehead. Instantly my muscles tensed. I felt shock slithering up my spine. My eyes widened, my gaze directed toward the heavens. (My ceiling, actually.) It was unbelievable. Horrible. What I saw. It is unspeakable. I saw them. Mom, Dad, and Timmy. I saw them lifeless... limbless... in pools of their own blood. The sight was terrible. They were butchered. Those I loved. Eyes gouged out. Tongues stripped. "Wha... What is this?" I cried. "WHAT IS THIS?" "Visions, Jack. Visions... of the future," Nawtsei Tan answered coldly. "But why? Why did this happen to them?" "Things don't always need reasons to happen, Jack. Events just are sometimes. They might simply end up in the wrong place at the wrong time, and that happens to them." "Bu... But..." I heaved. "Relax, Jack. You can spare them this... The pain. The agony. The torture." "Can't I stop this? Can't I save them?" "Death is an arrow that never misses its mark once shot. The Grim Reaper told me that himself. You cannot change that. But what you can change is how they die." "Wha... What do you mean?" "You know exactly what I mean." "No! No! I can't!" "Jack. It's either this or... that. The choice is yours." "Why should I believe you? How am I even sure you're real?" "I'm not real, eh?" He walked toward me calmly, cigar in one hand. He raised a hand toward my right cheek, and I felt a painful pinch. "Choose wisely, Jack. I've played my part as a warner." And just like that... He vanished. I spent days... Restless days and nights... Thinking. And I knew what I had to do. I was left with no choice. I had to save them. If I didn't do it, they would've suffered. If I didn't... they'd suffer. They'd be butchered. I'd seen it. I wasn't strong enough to let that happen. Oh. Looks like they're almost ready. The guard's checking the straps again. Too tight, if you ask me. Not that comfort's much of a concern anymore. The priest just gave me that sad smile they always give. The one that says, Poor soul. He asked if I wanted to pray. I told him I already had. Didn't seem to satisfy him. One of the officers is walking toward the glass window now. You know... I always imagined there'd be more people watching. Guess family annihilators don't draw much of a crowd. They're fitting the cap over my head. It's heavier than I expected.Funny the things you notice when you're about to die.The warden's reading something.Probably my crimes.Probably my rights.Probably words that stopped meaning anything the day I buried Mom... Dad... Timmy...No.The day I saved them. He's looking at me now. 'Do you have any final words?' Yeah. Actually, I do. Thank you... Thank you for listening. Even if you don't believe me. Hell... I don't know if I believe me anymore. The executioner's hand is on the switch now. It's strange. After everything... After the voices... After the visions... After the blood... The only thing I'm afraid of... ...is finding out I was right.Here I am narrating a tale to an imaginary audience right before my execution Maybe I was mad after all. Or maybe... The devil made me do it."

Deranged

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