The devil ruined my life

I am really trying. Trust me I am. Murder isn’t nice and I know it and I can’t kill her.

Maybe life has more to it than messed up escapades,death threats to one’s family, being forced into serial killing and broken families. Maybe it’s Karma. Seriously though anyone who gives a damn about Karma should get a good ass whooping.

You serve God or serve the devil. Everybody has got to serve someone.

This has been bothering me since my family was broken. I don’t really recall where I saw or heard it but it sure has been messing up my head. To be honest though, everything started to look weird after I got “divorced”. I don’t regret it. It just makes me sad so bad that I consider suicide at times. I can’t kill myself though. I am a coward. The divorce I mean. It was the best marriage. I loved Steve. I still love him. I love him so bad that I can’t have him that’s why we have to be apart. He won’t ever forgive me for it but I hope one day he will under favorable circumstances.

I am not a religious fanatic or something but I am sure that isn’t just spiritual or religious crap. I don’t know how but I feel it.

This isn’t even closer to any of the messed up and weird stuff that I have seen in my life. Seven years ago during our honeymoon, something happened. We were lying on the so soft bed after an hour of intense make out. Steve was staring out the window at the waters of the small lake. I on the other hand was staring at his beautiful strong physique yearning for him to take me and make love to me again.

I still don’t get it why he wore pants and went out leaving me yearning for him. What I know is that I didn’t go with him because there’s no way I can swim in a lake. No damn way. Not with fish watching my bottom. I pulled the covers over my head and tried to sleep. I must have fallen asleep after a while because I was woken up by the ringing of our room’s intercom.

“Hey ma’am. Can you come down to the lobby please. Now! Your husband is in trouble,” a professional voice spoke abruptly and hang up.

At the lobby in a flimsy crop top and palazzo pants, I found my husband lying on the floor some lady giving him CPR. My mouth dried up and my eyes became watery. I knelt down beside him and held his hand. There were several people standing around looking at the cute almost dead man and a crying blonde. Fortunately he didn’t die though.

For ye hath sinned.

It was written in perfect Calibri on his back with red ink. I paused scrubbing his back way later in our room’s bathroom. He can’t have tattooed that on him. He’s a coward. I was surprised that he had been wet when he almost died but the ink hadn’t been erased. That was weird.

After a lot of questioning, I came to know what had happened. He hadn’t gone swimming. He had been watching the ducks in the small Slum lake when out of the blue he had been tossed in. Someone or something had held his head underwater until he had passed out cold. He was so scared that I got scared too. Early next morning we were out of the lodge.

That incident was soon forgotten after some months but I had started getting some really freaky nightmares. Steve was always ending up dead in all of them with me holding a cleaver to my pregnant belly. I didn’t tell no one. No one was going to believe an insecure mortician. On the other hand Steve went back to his normal self.

For the next two years I suffered in silence. One cold Tuesday morning I found my office door tagged in red crimson paint. The same text as had been on Steve’s back was on my door. Huge letters but the Calibri was the same one. I froze and slowly retraced my steps. I don’t remember how but I found myself landing hard on the floor. My briefcase flew several feet away from me. I don’t believe in ghosts but I saw the extinguisher unhook off the wall and slam into my temple. I blacked out for several minutes. When I came to, my PA was lifting me onto a wheelchair.

I looked and there was no writing on the door. As far as I am concerned there’s no paint that disappears in thin air. Over the next several months I broke my leg, broke my nose, messed up several autopsy reports. Steve was attacked by thugs. I was in the lab one day fussing over some dead dude when the huge cleaver above me unhooked and fell missing me by millimeter. It cut the dude in two spilling some dark dead blood all over me.

In the pool of blood I saw my son and Steve. It was like a small screen. A hand grabbed Steve by the neck and slit his throat and then proceeded to do the same with my son. I screamed and dropped the incision tools in my hands. I never ever reported for work again. It wouldn’t have been any good even if did since all of my coworkers thought I was losing it. I had talked back to my boss and she hadn’t appreciated it.

Steve didn’t mind about my reasons of quitting my job. I spent my days behind locked doors of my house. My mind was frozen. I was always thinking of the lab fracas. I worried a lot. Cried all day. Never slept. This time I was in depression. I saw images of my family dead all the time. Three years later until like a month ago something happened to me again.

I was sorting out my mail in the kitchen. I hadn’t checked the mail in a long time since it’s 2021 and mails are dumb. Most of them were our tax returns, Steve’s subscription to a porn magazine and some holiday cards from my sisters. There was a mail that didn’t have any writing except my name. I opened it and took out the folded piece of paper.

For ye hath sinned.   We’ve spared you long enough. Your kid and husband will pay for it. Midisklan

A photo of Steve and Jake was attached. They were slit in the throat. An ancient looking dagger emblazoned with Midisklan was held over the dead faces by a skeleton hand. No return address. Nothing. Just a blood-chilling threat.

I must have stared at it for a long time since Jake came from school and found me seated still staring at it. I didn’t realize it until he started crying tagging at my sweater. I turned to my innocent son and stared at him tears falling from my eyes. I loved him and his dad so much but someone or something was threatening that.

I never get social with people. I don’t have any unforgiving exes. My childhood friends and classmates were nice to me. My family loves me, so this seven years long suffering was a mystery to me. I couldn’t think of anyone who had held a grudge over me.

I didn’t realize that Jake had gone, taken a can of ice-cream, eaten and gone to bed still in uniform. It was at six that I fully came to. I picked the mail and took it our study. I locked the door and started to pace the room.

“You know what, whatever you are you are a coward! A fucking coward! I don’t know you but if you really are as scary as you like to pretend, you might as well tell me how sinful I am that you are taking God’s work of punishment into your hands. Fuck you! Leave my family alone! If you want to kill me then do it,” I shouted to no one in particular. Frothing in the mouth. Shaking so bad.

“Remember January 14^th, 2001? “A voice said. A huge human shadow was cast on me though there was no one else in the room. I wasn't surprised not one bit. Scarier stuff had plagued me for almost seven years of my life. Whatever happened in January 14^th of 2001 wasn’t any clear in my head.

Whatever it was I did as a kid did not warrant death of my family. Back then I was in the cadet squad of my high-school. Second, I wasn’t dating anyone then but I do remember we had a party that day. On 14^th of January that year we had gone to a party with my fellow cadets.

I sat on the armchair really confused. My mind busy trying to remember the events of that party. I didn’t think so hard since on the wall magically appeared all the kids we had been with. Over all of them were crosses except for one girl. Jocie. She had been captain.

I was more confused than ever two hours later. I had called Jocie and she had told me some really disturbing stuff. She had watched as her family was killed by whatever Midisklan was. She was always on the run trying to evade the bullying spirit or whatever it was not that that plan was working so well. And she didn't appreciate company, she emphasized on that!

It is now three weeks since I forced myself to break up with Steve. It’s painful to leave him but I love him and there is no way I can let him die for something I myself don’t know about. It's like killing a turkey and not eating it. Who does that?! The worst of all is that I had Jake sent to a children’s orphanage. Being separate increases our chances of survival.

They asked me to go kill Mrs Kamila. She had been our patron back in 2001. I asked to know why but I just received a death threat that shook me to the bone. They would eat my ass as appetizer while dipping bread in my blood! Gross! I was shocked that anything can think of such things not the actual threat.

There’s no way I am killing my favorite high-school teacher. Not even with a plausible reason. To be precise I ain't no killer. Now I understand why everyone has got to serve someone. I am serving some dumb spirit, ghost or whatever stupid stuff Midisklan is, against my will.

Am living in fear. Running away from something I can’t see. I miss my family but I don’t have any options. Whatever happened on 14^th of January is still haunting me. Maybe it won’t stop. Maybe it will but I hope for the best. God help me.