I don’t particularly like to be possessed but if Satan comes knocking on my door again, there’s no way I’m trying to save someone other than me. Heed.
The white patterned double glazed door is staying firmly shut. Locked down. Be wary of my advice, throw away the key if you have to. If your pet stands in the way of the door, your big strong best friend for life, yeah he’s not getting out of the way of the door no matter how much you try to coerce and push and pull and tumble over him. Do not try to save him, do not have a conscience. His life won’t matter because if Satan has already spotted you whilst he is coming out of his daze and reshaping his spirit-ooze-air-molecular-self from your previous possession a split second ago, there’s no way back.
Too late. Didn’t I tell you not to save him. You try to shut the door but the force on the other side is too much, you are only you. And he is very He. Your best friend sits, whining, unable to move from the gap from where you tried to fudge him. Meanwhile, Satan is in your hallway corkscrewing into your temple like a black bugle needle spirit, like BFG’s trumpet, but this is real and not so scrumdiddlyumptious. Your back is tight against the wall. You want to scream, but the scream only happens inside your head. You forget what’s happening for a second, thought it was all a bad mare. But then the searing pain starts.
Satan tears into your skin which he pulls from your bone as if the elasticity was there all along. More specifically, he stretches the skin from between your collarbone and shoulder and you see two feet of your own flesh disintegrate and melt into rolling balls of wax before your eyes. Satan can’t take control of your mind, for the moment, and deliberately so. He wants to taint you because he knows that is your worst sin, your worst shame, the thing for which you feel most guilty, that which riles you against yourself in daily life. He saturates his desire for sick and perverted crimes using your body at will so you feel soiled and horrible and scared and depravedly insane.
You can’t control your limbs, they don’t listen to the voice inside your head, no matter how loud you shout for them to STOP! He has taken over your synaptic nerve system, blocked the electrical impulses. You’re a witness to the horror, a bystander from within your own body, and a perpetrator in the material world. Not again. Yes, here you go again. I warned you about the door. I’m not afraid to tell you I told you so. In horror, you try to numb the excruciating pain, but your mind needs to rest intermittently, and that’s when you become conscious to his feelings. But it’s too much to take, so you switch back to the self-hypnosis you learned when you were nine years old forgetting all the maths that you’d been taught. Wishing you were stronger. Satan overcomes your epileptic convulsions, he’s been around from the dawn of time, he knows how to do this.