For Mother

What had he done? He was speechless. His cross was clenched tightly in his left hand, knuckle pale and white. Who would believe what he just witnessed? The young man had struck a deal one would only believe to be figurative. However, he fixed the conceptual belief to fit reality. 

The boy was always an extremely faithful Christian, which made him incredulous about what he did. He just made a deal with the devil. 

He tried focusing on the reasoning, it was the only thing grounding the broken boy. 

“For mother...for mother,” he continued, whispering underneath his breath, barely escaping him. 

Mother was everything to him. A father, or even father figure, rather, was something always foreign ever since he was born. Mother and her complete faith in God were what formulated a strong bond between the two. One that seemed unbreakable, up until this point. 

You couldn’t ask him to recall where he was mentally, spiritually, or physically. He couldn’t tell you. He wouldn’t want to tell you if he knew. All he knew was that he ascended or, in his eyes, descended to obscure darkness he would never want to return to. 

What had he done? That phrase stuck heavily inside his mind and consciousness. It was like a hazy cloud raining on him, and only him. Guilt began to creep into his mind, an ominous thunder. 

His faith had been confirmed. The boy would’ve been better off believing the entity to be a figment of his imagination and something his mother told stories about. That certainly wasn’t the case anymore. 

The boy’s mother had been battling pancreatic cancer for years, and it seemed to be closing in on that woman's life. Every time the son visited his degrading mother, a piece of her would dissipate right before his eyes. This hurt the boy. He felt like he had no other choice. 

He prayed, but not to God. Not the devil. He just prayed, no focal point, and opening it to be received by more than just God. 

The one to receive his response, however, was not what he wanted. It was far from what he wanted. His mother’s spirit would’ve died if she knew what her only son had just experienced and agreed to. The response crushed the boy in ways one could not imagine. He was unconsciously hoping that God would come and grant his mother the continuance of life, but he was gravely mistaken. 

From an outsider’s perspective, the boy was in his room, on his college campus that was relatively close to the hospital his mother was being treated. He was sitting on his bed, holding his cross in both hands, eyes closed, and mumbling prayers silently to himself. He directed all of his energy into the hope and wellbeing of his mother’s survival. He would, in every sense of the word, not be where he was today if not for her. It’s why he felt it was his duty to avoid her from what inevitably seemed like death sitting beside her, ready to take her any second. 

The repercussions were the least of what he expected. You couldn’t see it. You couldn’t touch it. But you knew it was there. The energy was all you needed to know who you were talking to. At that moment, The boy knew he had reached the Devil. No words were spoken, it was unlike any experience he had ever had. So much was told in so little words, none in fact. All it did was elicit a presence to the boy. It formulated thoughts into the boy’s head, using him as the conduit in which he communicated. The boy’s body was still the entire time, as well as his mind. No sound, no disturbances, and strangely enough, no absolute possession over the boy. 

Time had frozen, yet so much was happening at once. The presence introduced itself with images inside the boy’s mind, followed by a heavy weight being felt on his mind, unlike what he was previously feeling. This was being dictated by a centripetal force, never keeping still. 

The images were of his mother, vibrant and full of life. She was smiling brightly, no hospital in sight. He clearly saw what he wanted for her; to be cured of the malignant disease that ate her away. The thoughts emphasized that he, the boy, was not in the image of his mother’s vivacity. The Devil made sure he saw this. 

That’s all the boy needed to understand what he had to do; his mother’s life for his absence in it. Emotion overcame him. They were happening simultaneously, yet each having a distinct moment for him to experience. A happiness that there’s hope for his mother. Sadness that he would not be allowed to participate in it. Perplexity to the deal he was undertaking at that moment. 

His conflict was beyond comparison. So many thoughts raced his mind, apart from the ones by the Devil’s influence. If his mother knew her life was being funded by its grace, she would diminish by the sheer thought of it. Of course, the boy could not tell the mother of this, but what if the deal predetermined mother to change for the worst. After all, such a deal with the most malice and menacing creatures known in history could absolutely produce an adverse effect. 

These were his thoughts aside from not being able to see his mother for the remainder of his life. That would break him, and most likely, her as well. But would the assurance of her livelihood be enough to make him feel at peace with the decision? Or would her livelihood being assured by the Devil make him feel more remorse than his mother passing naturally to meet God? 

The boy then wondered why such a deal was presented to him. Why did the Devil come to him? Would it be unwise to turn down such a pivotal opportunity? Thoughts continued pouring out of his mind, both from the demonstrous entity engulfing him as well as his own. 

He didn’t know what to believe anymore. He didn’t know what to do. When he made the decision he didn’t know how much of it was his own or the Devil’s. We’ll never know. After all, this was all in his head, yet the repercussions would resonate for an entire lifetime within both himself and his mother. The decision was made, by either the Devil or the boy, that his mother would live and he would never see her again. 

Evidently, betraying his own faith, along with his mother’s.