“How you are fallen from heaven, O Day Star, son of Dawn! How you are cut down to the ground, you who laid the nations low!" (Isaiah 14:12)
He remembers the exact day actually. The sun was shining outside and rays of sunlight found their way into his room. He could see them, see the hint of light, barely, through the crack of the door.
“Oi, boy! Come here!”, a man yelled. And then to someone else: “That boy's the bloody devil, I tell ya. Good for nothing, the lil' freak.”
The boy pressed deeper into the closet, smothered by the cheap fabric of his belongings and considered this. He certainly wouldn't come out, but father might have a point actually.
Maybe he was the devil. That might be the reason father didn't like him. The story fit his own.
Didn't God cut off the wings of an angel who had fallen from grace? Made him the lord of the underworld?
The boy certainly had the scars to show for it. Where father cut off his wings.
And tasting the blood in his mouth and the pain in his back, he thought that being the devil would be way better than this.
Years later, when he made his escape, so many bones broken and the world spinning around him, the though crossed his mind again. And when he woke up in the hospital, he did it as Lucifer and stuck to that.
And as the time passed, he wasn't sure if he knew, that he wasn't. Feeling immortal didn't hurt though.
Chloe eyed the tall dark-haired man in the black suit sceptically. “Is he police?”
“He is, let's say, a consultant.”
“Nice meeting you”, Morningstar grinned and gave her his hand to shake. “Let's have sex.”