Sebastian has always been odd. From the day his mother attempted to exorcize him in his uncles basement, he has been fascinated in what can’t be seen. And curiosity got the best of him. But in this case curiosity got the cat killed, and no satisfaction could bring it back.

***

The floors stained with blood, the smell of the rotting cat on his floor drenching the room. Flies swarm it, feasting on it’s still warm body. Their buzz fills the silence. Sebastian shudders.

He didn’t want to kill it. The smell, the sight, the touch of her warm fur makes his skin crawl with disgust. But there’s not really a market for the tails of a black female cat, is there?

Covering his nose with a rag, he grabs the tail by its tip. He steps over the body of the cat and the box knife, making his way towards the fire place. The flames flicker and grow, taunting him with every crack. If the fire could speak, it would tell him to stop. For when you search to far into the dark, you are bound to find something far worse than what you were looking for.

But what could he do? Twenty years of research, traveling, studying, all to find the demons that haunt the world. That whisper in his ear. And if this is the way to see them, then he will taint his eyes black.

Sebastian throws the tail in the fire, watching it grow and slowly burn away. He watches until the furred tip joins the pile of ashes. Until the fire calms, and goes out.

The need to forget all he knows falls upon him, but he shoves that feeling deep down. Once you learn, he believes, you can never unlearn. Only go further.

He scoops the ashes with a rusted medal spatula. The ashes pile in a thick dark clump, the odorless smell far worse than the smell of decay. Maybe some putrid smell would be enough to drive him away. Or maybe nothing can, at this point.

Sebastian dips his burned and wrinkled hand into the ashes, whirling his fingers around. His hand is a reminder of what he did to get here. What his mother did to oppose this.

He closes his eyes, biting the tip of his tongue to stop any whimpers, any cries. There is no denying he is scared. He doesn’t want to deny it. Once you open your eyes to the demons in the world, there is no closing them. But fear never stopped him before.

Eyes still shut tight, he spreads the ash of the devil over his eyes, digging deep into his skin. He rubs, and rubs, and rubs, until the ashes cover his lips, eyes, nose.

With trembling hands, he gets up from the ground and opens his eyes. Ones he will never close again.

Looking around his house once empty, he sees them. The demons that have whispered in his ear since he was a child. And when Sebastian looks at the demon, it’s eyes lock on his. The demon can see him too. And he’s not happy.

Sometimes, it’s better to keep your eyes closed.