He used to be known as the "spiritual" one...the one who always went to church, read his Bible, and loved his Savior. As he would stand behind the pulpit, and deliver the gospel, people would awe at how blessed this young man was. Through dark times in his life, he always managed to see the light, and grab the hand the reached into the depths of darkness that he would occasionally find himself delving into.
Eventually though, the hand came no more...the light had become a shadow, and his faith could no longer be his sight. Groping for anything to help him, he finds temporary purchase as the alcohol enters his blood stream, and euphoria settles in for the next few hours. Next come the women, as they temporarily satisfy his need for the love he once felt at the foot of the cross. But even they can't keep the darkness from surrounding him, nor can they hush the whispers of the demons that cloud his every waking thought.
Soon he begins to close his eyes, accepting the fact that he has messed up for the last time...his sobs come in uncontrolled burst, and his thoughts and feelings begin to seem out of sync.
Awaking in a room full of mirrors, he sees various reflections of himself...each signifying the monstrosity he has allowed himself to slowly become. Some come in more hideous forms than others, and yet some display his weak side.
Finally, he awakes from his stupor and realizes himself for what he really is, but hopefully will not forever be...a beast. A soul with no place in Heaven, rather a place in the fiery depths of a Devil's Hell. A man who has been torn apart by the love he once knew, desperately trying to regain his footing before he begins his free fall into the everlasting darkness he has so carefully tried to avoid all his life.
As his foot begins to slip, and his conscious fades...he catches a glimpse of life, and a glimmer of light in the form of a Cross...then all goes black.
