Pretty Punk Cherry

63 ⭑ The Seven Deadly Sins...

"You feel the evil, I feel the evil. Oh somebody whispers murder..."
♫ Kill in the Spirit World by Black Sabbath.

✰ Niko P.O.V ✰

When I was nine, I walked in on my Uncle Fritz, in his room, listening to Black Sabbath's 'Kill in the Spirit World.'

I remembered playing with my spiderman and superman action figures in his backyard, hearing the most peculiar screeching through his window, and walking up to investigate with my cape and mask still on.

Growing up in the religious house I did; staying with my Uncle was the first time I'd ever heard real rock music.

I was so attracted to the thumps of the drums and the thrilling weep of the guitar solo-- I busted right inside that room, and demanded to know what he was doing. What he was listening to.

We both knew, in the eyes of our family, that music was 'Unholy.'

But all he'd said was; "Nikolas -- I live vicariously through those brave enough to commit the seven deadly sins. N' so long as I don't, I'll be headed for heaven."

Nine year old me heard that and nearly shat my pants. I didn't know there was seven deadly anything's.

So, when my dad picked me up from his house that weekend, I asked him in the car on the way home and he explained to me what they were.

Pride, Greed, Lust, Envy, Gluttony, Wrath, and Sloth.

Over the past fifteen years, I'd committed 'religious crimes' in relation to all of the above.

I'd been overtly prideful in my sense of importance to the world because, well, I was Nikolas fucking Clifford.

I'd been more gluttonous than anyone on the planet because-- I was Nikolas fucking Clifford, who ate like a pig. Pizza, pussy, it didn't matter to me. If it was put in front of me, I'd probably eat it.

I'd been turned Green with envy when the people I loved chose others over me.

I'd been Greedy and I'd stolen from others what I couldn't have myself.

I'd been lazy, everyone had.

I'd been driven mad and dirty by lust, spending days in bed with men, or women, or both, stuck to me with sweat. I'd fucked enough people, said enough nasty things, and sucked enough dicks to be damned to hell without question - I'd done everything.

But, the one thing I prided myself on, was that I was rarely, rarely filled with Wrath.

My father Isaac was an angry man.

I was sure he came out of the womb wielding a cleaver and calling his mom a 'disappointment' or a 'disobedient cunt' because she couldn't push hard enough.

He was violent.

He had pride in that.

So, when I left his house at seventeen, I made a promise to myself to never choose violence or anger unless it was absolutely necessary. Unless - I could feel the crawling itch to punch a homophobe in the throat. Unless someone was hurting me or threatening to. Unless one of my friends or my family was in danger and in the eyes of my God... I was doing the right thing by protecting them.

I'd done a pretty good job in the past twenty years.

But, 2010 was where my streak ended.

Because I couldn't live with the thought of people I loved the most in the world getting hurt.

When I first met Cherry, I didn't think she'd be such a big part of my life, of Harlow's life. Much like him, I never, never saw her coming.

One day she was our adorably gorgeous and sweet neighbor that I so desperately wanted to get my hands on, and the next, she was a tether in the many that led us to finding our Bella. She was suddenly a person I felt -- more for. Care for. Love for. I never expected her level of strength, her level of dedication and love to her friends, or her level of ignorant will to see the light in everything bad.

She became someone I adored and I cherished her friendship almost as much as I cherished Harlow's.

Cherry was the one good thing for him.

She was shaping up to be the love of his life and smashing my jealousy away in a box to finally accept that was the greatest thing I'd ever done.

All I'd ever wanted was for him to be alright.

Over the years I'd watched him do dangerous drugs, pass out in back alleys' and cart his body around to strangers, letting whoever he see fit sample it because he didn't see value in himself. For years, deep down, I knew all Harlow wanted was to be loved the right way and while I tried, I couldn't do that for him.

He didn't feel that way for me.

He didn't feel that way for Cosette.

But, he felt that way for a lovely Cherry who'd smushed and squeezed her way into his bedroom, into his kitchen, and into his life, playing Snow White to us three dwarves.

She wouldn't take anger for an answer and she picked him up off the alley floor, showering him with magical kisses and affection that he just melted for.

I'd never seen him so in love.

Every gaze, every touch, every exchange between them was like watching a romance film.

She saw the good in him and she brought it out.

Every day he was laughing, he was smiling, he was taking care of himself.

That made her love her even more.

She did the unthinkable and not just with him.

She put herself in danger to save our family.

Harlow and I raised Bella together, in so many ways, she felt like my baby too.

I was eternally grateful to her.

She was my family now too.

Which was why when Zayn explained what she was going to be put through again; what Harlow was going to be put through again, I felt that wrath come back stronger than ever before. Anger ate away at my insides, chewing, and chewing, and chewing on my stomach as I replayed every scenario of the past month in my mind. Flashes of Harlow's broken cries and the shake of his body as he clutched his baby in his arms, haunted me in my sleep that night. I tossed and I turned at the sight of Cherry's scars and the clothes torn from her body like paper. I winced as I saw my dear Koiya's face in that hospital bed, trying hard not to weep as nurses and doctors tended to her torn limbs, scraped with glass and metal.

And I saw the look of Amara's face on my TV, sobbing over a man who deserved nothing but the death penalty.

I knew I shouldn't want to.

I knew I shouldn't do it.

Zayn warned me not to go.

But, I'd never felt anger so intensely before.

And I no longer had control of my own body.

All I could think about was Harlow's health when I packed up my car. All I could see was Cherry's blood when I booked a flight to New York, and all I could hear was that Black Sabbath song as I sped down the road.

Repeating over, and over inside my head like a chanting whisper:

Behold the dead clutching at fading hands, out of reach forever.

"In glory die" calls the voice from the void, your assasin has cursed every spectre.

The seal is broken, the oath has been crossed and the house of the dead seeks the master.

Stretching every muscle, I wait for the end--

And a kiss on the wind whispers, murder.

***