“Can you please say something?” Satan pleaded as he subconsciously wringed his hands, a telltale sign he was nervous. The silence continued to linger until it was broken once again. But the stinging cut on your cheek reminded you otherwise. All while he stood quietly at the door, from your peripheral vision he seemed so small. You picked up books and returned them to their original places, Satan’s weird method of organizing already memorized. Moving past your boyfriend, you entered his room and started cleaning up the whirlwind of books that were scattered everywhere from his latest tantrum. The white-haired demon’s eyes flickered from Satan to you, “Call me later.” He requested, deciding to choose life and not enrage his brother further. “They said they were fine, right? So drop it.” Satan commanded, his face seemingly void of any emotion but the rage behind it was undeniable. As he opened mouth again to make sure you were absolutely okay, another voice joined the conversation. But in true Mammon fashion, he wasn’t going to just drop it. ![]() ![]() You were one more “are you okay?” away from bursting into tears. ![]() You stated firmly, your eyes begging for him to drop it. Mammon, a bystander in all of this, broke the silence. It was as if the House of Lamentation came to a complete and utter standstill, which was saying something considering the place is never quiet. The silence was so loud, it was damn near deafening.
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