Servant | Taekook English version

Page 30: "I'll kill you, feed from you."

[Three Days Grace- I Hate Everything About You]

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.......

“I'd like to meet the devil one night,” he said.  "I'd chase him from here into the Pacific forests, I'm the devil himself."

-Interview with the vampire, Anne Rice

.......

The past was a kind of arthropod that would perhaps never let go.  So much so that in all the naive stories I have read in all the great books I have read until now, the person desires to open a clean page by getting rid of his past, he somehow succeeded and found peace while dealing with the various adventures of his new life.

However, the brutality of real life did not allow such clear steps as healing and clean sheets.  It was impossible to escape from the ghosts of the past;  Past regrets and mistakes infiltrated every single strand of our lives, good or bad.  It was worn more than the birthmark, it followed us, and it was not so difficult to repent.

I have always been raised as a child with faith in God, and faith in God made me wholeheartedly believe that nothing will happen for no reason, that everything has a cause, that we have what is called fate, while God is great if we regret enough, no matter how terrible the mistake may be to life.  He convinced me that he would be forgiving with a mercy.  His holy eyes were everywhere;  He was always watching all of us, always watching over and waiting for us to ask for forgiveness while witnessing the mistakes we made.  Thus, we would be left pure and clean so that the golden gates of heaven could be opened and let us in.  No one would associate themselves with the horrible flames of hell, and for the helpless humanity who feared that there would be a punishment in the end, hell was perhaps a brutally cleansed place, as functional as it was.  Faith was an impulse from the heart.

As silence has become a habit, far from scaring me anymore, I felt that from the very beginning I was justifying those who presented me the thesis that the despicable man can get used to everything.  Like some kind of sponge sucking the wastewater, I felt as if I had become immune to all sorts of things, as I experienced horrible and incredibly difficult realities that my eyes would refuse to see, my ears could not hear, and I could not even imagine.  I couldn't believe it;  I could not believe the point where my black destiny drove me.  From time to time I was afraid of losing my humanity, but perhaps with such a harsh definition of being human;  it was getting used to everything, everything.

This was called the banality of evil;  it was that the horrible acts that were constantly witnessed did not have an effect after a while as they did the first time.  On a deserted island, it was like a hungry knife, a desperate Robinson Crusoe, after a while, adapting to the harsh island conditions and taking things under complete control.  Forcing a soul was one of the most important recipes for creating a monster.

Of course, this process was first kneaded into an inner war with the person's great self-doubt.  Someone, anybody, anyone who could hear my cries, my sorrow, would say that maybe they had the same things as me, maybe I, just like I was afraid of my dirty love at that time, with the courage of what I saw in someone else, I would feel relaxed, normalized and ordinary about it.

But no, I just couldn't do that this time.  I was standing still, standing still, staring at the diamond irises of the angelic face, whose ugly face I had seen a few minutes ago.  Although the expectation in their gaze encouraged me to say something, not knowing where to begin, whether I still knew how to speak, I wasn't even sure of that.