Luzifer looked back on the events of the past day. He was currently practicing his dagger work in his cell going full bore against invisible enemies. Somehow, he always had greater difficulty beating the opponents his mind made up for him rather then the oppoenents of the real world. The foes of his mind were quick, nimble, durable, and intelligent. The maggots he fought in real life were just that, maggots. He often wondered if perhaps it would be better just to ignore the real world and live only in his mind, for the enemies there were far more difficult.
Fighting against foes of his own creation he tried his best to think about things but he couldn't focus. The enemies he was fighting were to strong to take anything but his full concentration. They were screaming at him, kicking him, yelling obscenities at him...and he liked it. fighting them all at once, hearing the creations of his own mind malign his very existance filled him with the flush of excitement. Soon he began to attack with renewed forever, cutting through air with his knife but still a step behind his opponents.
Suddenly he was on the ground. Had his foot slipped? He could see them looming, kicking and pushing with nervous glee. He screamed thrusting his knife. He pulled it back and was suprised to feel drops of some liquid twinge against his face. He put his hand to his face. Blood. He looked at his knife blood. He looked at his arm... blood. Blood dripping from a stab wound... it was close to the vein that led to the wrist. Mere millimeters away from being lethal. Did his knife want him to die? Why? What had he done to his knife? Or had it been those imaginary foes? Why would they seek his death? He had never bothered to give them reasons in all his imaginings. They had merely dispised him and that had contented him. Maybe they didn't hate him. Maybe it was just a long series of events that had caused them to be selected by his mind to fight him. Perhaps it was their duty to his mind as his creations made for the soul purpose of fighting him. Blood began to pool on the ground but lucifer didn't really notice. He bled a lot these days. He would recover. But who wanted him dead? Father? Mother? Her? Himself? No, he couldn't want himself dead, not without his knowledge. He licked the wouldn't with his tongue. Saliva, he knew, possessed a coagulent which would staunch the bleeding. Saliva. Which was also used by the body to trap germs to prevent their access orally to the mouth. Why would something so filthy possess something that would be needed for healing? And why would that process also involve possible infection defeating part of the purpose of Saliva in the first place?
There were so many whys... His mind jumped. He had let it go places. He dragged it back to reality. To the fact he was bleeding. To the fact he lived in a 9x9x9 cube. To the fact he was weak. To the fact he should be training. He fell to the ground and began doing push ups. His arm bleeding all the while.