Da-dum. Da-dum. The sickening synchronicity of their hearts. Blood flowing through their veins. The pulse of life.
The God of Death despised life. Because all life disrespected death.
What still clung on when the end had neared? Life.
What feared when the end had arrived? Life.
What mourned when the end had passed? Life.
“PAPA!!!” Fear laced with desperation came from Riven’s throat as the small boy flailed wildly, struggling against the firm hold of the guard. His eyes a wobbling picture of the raging seas. Still shot. Time seemed to stop. His father, handcuffed and restrained, flashed him a look of disappointment. He had expected his son to be stronger. Biting into his quivering lips hard enough to draw blood, he blinked away stray tears.
He was wrong. Weak. He was. As weak as his son.
His sin was his weakness. And he hated it.
“Boy, I know it’s hard for ya. But your pop’s a non-believer. Those who’ve lost faith cannot be redeemed from their grave sin.”
The five-year-old wheeled around with the most spiteful expression a child could muster and glared at the guard through the tears streaming down his face.
“I hate you!”
“Ya’ll need religious counselling, boy. Before ya lose your way to evil.” The guard said emotionlessly while keeping his firm grip on Riven’s arms.
Remember, those who didn’t believe in God were abominations.
And abominations should be cleansed from this world.