Archive of Our Own ^beta

“I killed a prophet once. Ripped his head off. Ended the religion right then and there.”

“You have a mother in law?”

There were certain comments Abaddon tended to make that most in the hotel decided not to address, but when Abaddon mentioned his mother-in-law, Nathan felt he had to ask. He had no idea that this tied back to another comment that Abaddon had made about the death of a prophet nor the horror that was the circumstances around that situation. Abaddon had been alive for centuries, and over those centuries he had encountered situations that not even hell itself could have prepared him for. Abaddon never held back when it came to child abusers when he was in hell, but now he was a child and one without his powers, no less. It was sometimes hard for him to understand how children could wind up in such situations, as he knew that abuse could come in several different forms. It wasn't until he became a victim himself that he knew. He wished it never came to that, but he knew once he returned to hell, he would tear such monsters from limb to limb and then make them feel the hell that he had felt. It was awful, and he never even realized what was done to him until it was far too late. Abaddon had learned about cults within his first decade on earth, and while he had seen a number of cults who worshipped other demons, he never saw one for him. It made him a little upset, and that's when he started to desire a cult of his own. It took time, but the word of a demon child was attractive to several. Abaddon wanted to be worshipped, but in the end that's not what he received, not at all. He found his chance to have his own cult. He was lured in by this prophet who promised him all he could ever want, but he wanted to perform this ritual with him. Abaddon had done countless rituals before, so he didn't think much of it. He didn't realize the intentions of the man until he was dressed in white and forced into a contract. He met the man's mother, who acted as if what was to come was his fault. He didn't understand. He didn't know. He was the demon, but that man was the true monster in the room. He should have run.

It can be hard to realize there is an issue when all those around you treat the situation as normal. No one seemed to blink twice when the prophet made the demon child into a child bride. Abaddon was too focused on his followers to realize that he was a victim. It was all normalized. He didn't think much when the prophet claimed there was more to the ritual than the contract alone. He didn't think much about it when the prophet took him to bed. He didn't think about the subtle touches at first. He didn't want to think about the words said to him. He didn't want to think about the pain that followed, all in the name of a ritual. He didn't want to think about the aftermath and how his white clothes had been stained red due to what had been done to him. He didn't want to think. He wanted to be worshipped. He wanted to rule, but instead he had been forced to submit. He hated it. He hated him. Abaddon tried to focus on what mattered to him. He continued on, but that monster continued to lurk in the background. He continued to hurt him. It never ended. Abaddon knew this wasn't how it was meant to be. It couldn't be. Abaddon could still recall the exact moment he knew that he had become a victim. He had met someone from the outside. He had been shown a bit of kindness. He had tried to leave with them, but he was forced back into the hands of that monster before he could escape. He tried to show him his place, and when Abaddon refused, he forced himself on him. Abaddon had cried out for help, but in return he had been told that it was his fault. He had been blamed because he was the demon. He was a child. No one would save him here, and he knew that now. No one cared. Abaddon knew what he had to do then, and when the time came, he didn't hold back. He killed the prophet in front of his followers and cursed them all for the tortures that had been done to him. It should have been a relief, but in the back of his head all he could hear were the words of his mother-in-law. He didn't understand how he had allowed this to continue on to such an extent. He blamed himself in the end.

Nathan carried this horrified look on his face when he told him the truth about what had been done to him. It was a look that Abaddon wished he could have seen from the others around him back then, but he didn't. Nathan cared about him, and he assured him what had happened wasn't his fault. Abaddon knew that now, but it still felt better to hear it from someone else. He had never told someone else about what had been done to him, or at least not to that extent. He sometimes feared that he would be blamed for it. He feared that others would side with the monsters who had hurt him because he was a demon and he had chosen to follow the man into that kind of life. He carried that fear with him for centuries as he encountered horror after horror because of who he was. Nathan sometimes reminded him of the man whom he had encountered from the outside. He had the same smile and showed him the same level of kindness. Nathan was dead now, but at least he would never leave him alone. He would never stand there and watch someone hurt him. He was his father now. He was the man that Abaddon had needed in his life.

“I think I would have ripped his head off too.” Nathan noted as he sat with the child at the computer, watching as he played some sort of game. “And fed him his own penis but we don't need to talk about that.”

“Thank you.” Abaddon responded as he tried to find comfort in a form that he could no longer feel, keeping his attention on the screen in front of him as he continued to speak. “You remind me of someone.. There was this man.. Nathaniel.. He tried to save me but— … It didn't end well. He tried and that's kind of how I knew that what had happened to me wasn't how it was supposed to be. I wish I could have thanked him.”