For the Love of a Madman

I called my father and told him I was going to bail out this weekend at the first sign of trouble, and he said come over and that we could watch television together. Anything seemed preferable to another episode, another break from the real and tangible, and if what I had begun to suspect was true, I didn’t want to be at home and put my wife through more hell. I thought about getting out of the marriage. But it was not time. Not yet. I was trying to decide if I was going to stay and fight for my wife. It was not a decision to be made quickly or lightly.

"The General is coming down, Yago. He plans some award for you," my close ape-like teacher told me. He had lost a hand in the last battle, and he had taken a bolt of light straight through his chest, which narrowly missed his heart.

"Of course, but that is not why I fight. I fight because of what has happened to me in my life. And I will continue to fight until I am too old. And then I will fight in other ways. But I seek no reward. I share a past with the villains we fight, but I am now one with the General and the Colonel. They are aware of my past, and still, the General and Colonel trust me. They know I know both sides of the coin. I fight against myself as much as I fight for my wife and her family and my family, and friends I have known along the bitter path."

My teacher, my comrade, my fellow chimed in. "Still, will not a reward be a blessing to you?"

"I suppose it might, Sensei," Yago said.

My sickness had originally manifested as a result from my own deal with the Devil. I believe I had been a Christian as a teenager, but I walked away from God on a

daily basis in high school, before the illness manifested, and got further and further away each passing day. Some days were a sprint to see how far away I could get. I remembered one fateful night alone outside our beach house that I swore up to the heavens and invited God into my heart. It had been a lonely adolescence; I had few friends, a drug problem, a sick mother, mostly no father in my life, and my life was in complete chaos, and the absolute worst part of it was that no one knew how much pain I was in. That was when Dr. Stinson saved my life the first time. He understood. I carried on smiling outwardly, but I ached so badly it almost drove me mad then. The results of one night at the beach

house were probably in part from the influence of a very attractive high school Spanish teacher, who had been teaching me a little about Christianity and the love of God.

That was when I originally committed to the cause. That was when I first decided to fight. But not long after I made a terrible mistake in my efforts. My deal with the Devil occurred in college. In my freshman year of college, my girlfriend broke up with me, and I was crushed, devastated; I was flat on my back, staring at the individual pieces of popcorn on the ceiling. I started mixing all sorts of drugs with alcohol. And then in a flash of need, I swore my soul to Satan in return for her in my life. I had loved her like no other before Massie. Shortly after that I became very ill.

It wasn’t long after that I was hospitalized and fought the Devil to return my soul to me. As I had turned on my benefactor, I then turned on the Devil. I became a man with no soul for a time, but was successful in throwing off the Devil’s yoke upon my spirit. I wasn’t sure, but I thought I might be the one to help my wife throw off hers. There was so much of fun and caring about her; her love extended to an entire nation of people. But I did not like my odds calling the Devil into the street again for another brawl. The last one was bloody to say the least.