The soft summer moonlight illuminated the stain glass window of the Blessed Mother washing Callen's rectory room in the kaleidoscope of colors. The pale illumination hung on sparse bedroom furniture and Callen's few belongings, but the watchful glow of Our Lady of Sorrows did nothing to comfort Callen's mind as he tossed in his sopping sheets.
Visions of his own mother flashed in his mind along with the demon's hellish visage that tore her away. His mind flashed scenes of children in hospital beds flayed by writhing tentacles and razor sharp claws. The high pitch of their vocalized terror waxed and waned as they succumbed to external demons rather than those that they fought against each day inside their very bodies. In the flicker of the damaged hospital lighting, he heard the gulp of the pump, a gurgled moan for help, and saw a clipboard with Derrick's name on it lying on bloodstained sheets.
A tear rolled down his cheek.
"Can't get too attached," Derrick said as Callen picked up a clipboard. The medical information was stained and impossible to read. "You never know what life will take away." It felt like Derrick had been sitting there the whole time.
Callen looked up from the clipboard towards his friend. Derrick stood behind him with all his medical connections broken, hanging, and protruding from his flesh. His skin was a lifeless grey, and the low light from the broken lighting and medical monitors made him look like rigor mortis had already set in.
"I can't help it," Callen whispered.
"It's a tough lesson to learn," Derrick whispered. "Everyone dies. Best get used to it."
Callen nodded. "I just never saw it before. Well, not like that. I've heard it...yeah...but the nurses always did their best to prevent us from seeing it when they could. But, I don't think I'll ever get used to it. The two-year-old died alone, in pain, without her parents around. No one held her hand as she took her last breath. The life she had..."
"You call that a life? Or yours? Or any of us?" Derrick spat. "Hospital beds? Burning chemicals? Constant pain?"
Callen closed his eyes. "I don't know."
"It sounds more like what those born-again moron foster parents o' mine call Hell." Derrick winced.
"I thought you didn't believe in Hell." Callen pointed out.
"No, I have no choice but to believe in Hell." Derrick corrected. "We live in it, every day. In here, out there, it doesn't matter. Heaven is crap and everyone dies alone...you can be sure of that. It's Heaven that I have a problem with."