Fidelis was up all night. His eyes refused to close—but how could they? They were there with him—those demons—in that small room. The air went thin. He wasn't breathing fine. His head ached as flashes of memories came on him. He was suffocating. They had finally come for him. The wrongs he did. The ladies he abused and sexually disrespected. They had all come for him.
He had heard of such stories but never truly believed them.
He was told about them—these demons of the past. They don't show up as long as you continue in their path. Their ugly heads come up when something threatens their hold of you. But Nah! He didn't believe. But how could he? A person seldom believes that what he doesn't have or hasn't heard of exists.
Now, there he was, boxed in a corner—shivering. “If somehow he survives the night, he'll turn a new leaf", so was his thought. But then again, why did he have to wait till this point?
Par: Sambasy
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