"The Bible is considered the word of God, is it not? Or at least divinely inspired?"
I nodded.
"There are many contradictions in the Bible," he explained, "and therefore these accounts are unreliable. For example, the death of Judas. The book of Matthew portrays Judas as remorseful after betraying Jesus, even returning the thirty pieces of silver to the temple before hanging himself."
"Did he not?" I frowned.
"How can we know for sure?" Nathaniel shrugged. "Acts 1:18 states that Judas purchased a field with the thirty pieces of silver and he falls head-first, dying in the Field of Blood."
"Okay, sure, but that's just…different memories," I defended the Bible. "These accounts were written years later. And by people, not God. It doesn't change the fact that Judas died an unhappy death as a result of betraying Jesus. It doesn't make God some kind of liar."
"I never said God was a liar," Nathaniel said. "Just unreliable. His rules keep changing."
I shook my head, unconvinced.
"Okay, tell me, does God love everyone?"
"Of course," I said.
Yet he abandoned you, little monster.
"Well, the book of John would agree with you," Nathaniel nodded, "but Leviticus? Psalms? Proverbs? They all indicate that God hates evildoers. Sinners."
Hence why he hates you.
I swallowed. "Well, that makes sense. God is good. Why would He love evil?"
"That's not the point, Augustus. The point is that when the Bible, and God Himself, is contradictory, how can we know the objective truth?"
“Careful," I said," you could be condemned to Hell for that.”
“Maybe then I’ll finally get the Devil’s side of the story,” he chuckled.
I crossed the space between us, reaching to adjust his collar which had tucked itself beneath his brown vest. “Nathaniel Carrington…I am starting to think you’re worse than me.”
“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” he grinned.
“Bad,” I leaned up to whisper in his ear, “but the Devil in me likes it.”
Nathaniel smirked and reached for my waist, but I took a step back, his hand gliding through air. An audible sigh escaped his throat. “How long has the Devil been inside of you?”
“A long time.”
“How long?”
“Since I was four.”
“That’s quite young,” Nathaniel hummed. “Why do you think he chose you?”
“I’m the son of a crazy religious fanatic, who better to possess than me?”
“So your mother is crazy for being religious, but you’re not for believing you’re possessed by the Devil?”
Ah, so it was a trap. He does think we’re crazy.
“My mother is crazy because she would have let me die that night in North Lane.”
“Of course.”
