Forgive Me Not

I am staring at my victim, the huge gash on her neck makes her gurgle her last words. I wonder if she is repenting or praying for divine salvation. Either way, that cannot save her soul now. And I cannot bring myself to care; I have done that to her after all. With the depths of hell that I submerged myself into, pity is long gone in my veins now. I grace her with a smile full of malice then, I end her life.

Since my sister had fallen ill and died when I was twelve, I watched over with what’s left of my family—my mother Ester. My mom said that our worthless asshole of a father abandoned us after he impregnated her with me. He just left, with no reasons or goodbyes, nothing. He was just gone. So, it was mom and me against the world. Since then, I have taken extra jobs to help her make ends meet. I refused to cut myself some slack because that’s not how we should live our lives. When you’re basically at the lower part of the modern caste system, even rest days are seen as a luxury.

I am a barmaid in a renowned bar here on the outskirts of the town. I am working here since I was sixteen. My schedule’s every Monday to Friday night. Mika, the boss, is kind enough to hire me five years ago. I started as an errand girl then when I reached the age of majority, I changed job to a waitress. I’m still here because I’ve taken a liking to my job, it is not that heavy. Needless to say, the tips I’m getting from customers when the bar is filled, is enough to allot money for our meal the next day.

“Elizabeth, you’re at the counter tonight,” Mika says.

“Roger that, boss.”

A man approaches the bar counter. He’s a new face. Probably from the city. Aside from the regulars, some new customers come here, especially on Friday night.

“What can I get for you?” I politely ask him.

“My poison's whiskey, darling.” The guy with platinum hair replies as he displays a playful smile on his lips. He reeks of alcohol already, maybe this is not his first bar destination tonight.

“One glass of whiskey, coming right up.” I smile before I prepare his drinks.

“How long have you been working here, dear?” he asks.

“Roughly five years now,” I answer.

“Want to have some good time after your shift?”

I am not interested. Go find someone else.

“Sorry but I am meeting up with my boyfriend after this.”

I get home around 3 AM, I find my mom fast asleep on our humble bed. My body is tired but for some reason, my mind’s pretty much awake. So, I decide to rummage some old books in the dusty cabinet where Dad’s belongings were stored. I found an ancient-looking book with covers peeling off and pages already yellow due to old age. I have never seen this before. Well, that is because I don’t have any interest in my father’s useless possessions.

What I see are various demonic symbols and incantations. Some parts are even highlighted—the Summoning, and the Offerings. Why did my father have a book like this? I realize I am holding my breath the entire time. I am not able to withstand the written horrors in it so I shut the book and return it to the cramped space it is once stuck in. It is said in the book that one can summon a demon and make a contract with it. It can probably be a fiction book, but it looks like the real deal.

Days passed and the terror I felt from reading the book already subsided. Everything is normal except that my mom looks a bit sallow and now has a gaunt face. At first, I thought those are just the symptoms of flu but she becomes worse. It seems like the medicines are not working on her. She gets sick so fast it was odd. She seldom gets sick and she has a strong immune system.

I am cooking pottage one morning when she calls me. She looks like she was in so much pain. I steel myself and approach her.

“What is it, mom?”

“Forgive me for I have never become a perfect mother to you. Even your father left us and I couldn’t do anything when your sister died. You’re the only one left and I can only ask forgiveness from you, my child.”

“Don’t say that, mom. You’re the best one I’ve ever had.”

“Forgive me, Elizabeth.”

“It’s okay, mom. You didn’t have to be perfect. I love you.”

That night, I am so determined to work overtime to have some extra money to take her to the hospital. I am not letting her go without trying so hard. I start at 5 PM and finish at 3 AM the next day. I am walking in the streets when I feel eyes behind me. I look back and see nothing. But I feel it. I know someone’s tailing me. So, I quicken my pace, almost running. I hear footsteps chasing me towards the dark alley, I decide to run fast but it is too late.

Someone grabs me by my hair, the pain immediately shot through my scalp. I cannot recover my bearings. I keep thrashing but he turns me to him and slaps me using the back of his hand, so hard my ear went ringing and my face went numb. He is not wearing any mask so I clearly saw his murderous visage. He is one of the new customers in our bar. The guy with platinum hair. I am being frisked, my bag's stolen, and I feel extreme, sharp pain coming from my stomach. It feels so warm. I am stabbed three times, and the mugger is leaving me here to die. My life was oozing out of me. I am at the brink of death when I remember a symbol and a short incantation written in a dead language.

The next thing I know, I am whistling a merry tune as I head home. My torn dress is bloodied but I cannot care less. Tomorrow, I will start my hunt for that mugger and murderer. I just need to do something first. I have to check on my mother.

I see her, struggling for words when I enter her room. And no, she is not shocked with the bloodstains on my dress or the savage look on my face. Good thing there are some perks with having a demon inhabit my body, I can now read anyone’s mind as long as they’re nearby. I smirk as I read my beloved mother's mind:

She’s supposed to be dead by now! She has to be my third sacrifice for my good health to come back!

“You’re back. What happened to you, my child?” my mother innocently smiles at me.

She's a wolf in a sheep's clothing. She is so good at saving her own hide. Third sacrifice, huh? So, everything makes sense now, our father did not really leave us. He was the first sacrificial lamb. Second, my sister. My poor sister! How could my mother sacrifice her?! It was not a natural illness; it was a demonic illness that caused her death! Their lives . . . all for what? So that this mother of mine can live a longer and healthier life?! Then, next in line . . . me. The third sacrifice. I would have been dead had I not summon this demon and made a contract with it. The Summoning, and the Offerings. All the dots are connected now.

“I am stabbed, mother. But thanks to your ancient book, I come back pretty much unscathed. How are you feeling?”

She found my book?! She formed a contract with a demon, didn’t she? I can’t do anything now. I needed her dead quick but I am already too weak!

Wow! Her mental voice is really loud and harsh.

So, the book isn’t really my father’s, huh? Too weak to even sit up straight now? Pitiful. . . not.

I memorized the Summoning because I was planning to make a contract with a demon to heal my mother. No matter the cost. But hell was I proven wrong.

I let the demon inside me take over my body. Talons elongated from my hand, fangs pierced through my thin lips, and my pupils turn to slits as I slash her neck. I cannot feel any fear or agony or sadness. Since this demon resides in my body, most emotions only become dull waves. And I like this new, wicked version of me.

I am staring at my victim, the huge gash on her neck makes her gurgle her last words. I wonder if she is repenting or praying for a divine salvation. Either way, that cannot save her soul now. And I cannot bring myself to care; I have done that to her after all. With the depths of hell that I submerged myself into, pity is long gone in my veins now. I grace her with a smile full of malice then, I end her life.

Forgive me not, mother. For I have willingly sinned.