The Evil Game

One brisk winter night, darkness knocked at my door. Its pale, deceiving glow, as white as snow, enticed me, overshadowing the shivers crawling up my spine. I hadn’t invited it, yet I answered. I opened the door and it stepped in, cradling the holes in my soul, feeding the void with its schemes. Comfortable and unsettling all at once. We hadn’t spoken a word, but there he was making himself at home. Like a sleepwalker under a spell, I drifted to the table and sat across from him.

There I was, facing him and his invitation for another game. He shuffled the deck, made it snap like a broken bone, and let out a demonic laugh. The temperature dropped, and quivering was all I seemed able to do. He anticipated my every reaction, delighting in them. And yet, I should have known better—his game never changed. The moves were always the same.

The king of lies appeared, spitting venomous names, scorching my mind with searing thoughts. He hammered my skull, firing words like bullets. I quickly sought my hand, hesitated, and took a step back. Self-doubt had taken root, dragging with it a painful list of accusations. Before I could catch my breath, his relentless pursuit struck again—the queen of disdain. My stomach churned as she stared me down with her icy gaze, making me feel both repelled and hollow. So I withdrew. Stiff as a rod, breath shallow, I deliberated my options. But under such judgment, I felt utterly worthless.

Turn after turn, he sought to entrap me. He played the jack of confusion, and I stumbled into his chaos. Reality blurred—was I truly hungry, or was it just another lie? Then came the jack of shame, draping me in disgust. From there, it was a slow, painful descent into hell. Unrelenting, he hit again—the ace of doubt. A bewitching speech, weaving uncertainty around my worth and purpose. The voices in my head grew louder and louder, drowning out my own. Those cards were played, yet the game was far from over. I feared what was coming next.

He slammed a fist, and all the walls trembled. I shrank back, bracing for his final move. He threw a spade at my face—broken. A sharp blow followed—guilty. His accusations were relentless. Disgusting. Unlovable. Forgotten. The list went on, planting seeds of contempt, enticing me to claim them as my own. By now, every trace of light had been swallowed, suffocated from my heart. A bitter cold seeped into my bones, numbing my spirit, freezing me in place. I felt trapped, ensnared in his merciless, life-draining grip.

My only resort was to expel his venom. Purge every last trace of him in my body, my mind, my soul. Yet, the remnants of the queen of disdain and the jack of shame still lingered. I had opened the door—he had made his home, ready to rewind and repeat. If he could trap me in his Russian roulette, then I would take the bullet, again and again.

Then—a knock. Again? Fine. Let’s do this. Face to face, and then—suddenly—a force surged through me. The cards were on the table, his tricks laid bare. None of which truly surprised me, yet somehow, I so often fell into histrap. But not this time. He attempted his usual blows, surrounding me with mirrors, reflecting the power of his lies. Yet in that moment, I saw the truth—he had never won. He never even stood a chance.

In an instant, thunder roared through the room, and lightning shattered his face. I knew better than to look—to entertain the spectacle. Confusion and doubt were his weapons, each strike eroding my sense of existence, hardening my heart one play at a time. A masquerade—tempting, ensnaring—yet utterly hollow.

But then, the sword of light struck, and power surged through me. Strength flooded my veins as I reclaimed my composure and spoke the truth. It was all an illusion. His falsehoods had consumed me long enough—but not tonight. He could throw all his chips, bluff all he wanted, but this fame was over. My hand was stronger than ever—I held the kings, the queens, the jacks, the entire suit of hearts and diamonds. Many were my weapons. And I was ready to use them.

So I took a stance and started to throw punches—words of truth, affirmations, verses. Left and right, they attacked. Before he could grasp what was happening, the light blazed too brightly for the darkness to withstand. It could not overtake it. He began to fade—unsurprisingly. The game had already been played. And won. There was nothing new under the sun. He was defeated. And I was defended.

With great courage, I revealed my last card, rose to my feet, and reclaimed my freedom. All those years spent training my ears had prepared me for this moment. A sheep knows his Shepherd’s voice. And I listened. And there it was—the voice of the King of kings. For on the cross, He made a way. The victory was already His. Every single day.

Some days are harder. At times, this disease—this disorder—pulls me under. And as I kneel before the white bowl, wiping my tears, swallowing pain, I remember—I am not alone. There’s a ‘with-ness’ here too. Even in the midst of harming my body, purging what feels unbearable, I know I still belong. Before I know it, the episodes grow fewer and farther between. The journey is long, but hope is greater. I am proof. This battle isn’t over—but neither am I.

If you're walking this path, remember that the darkness may feel heavy, but you are never alone. Each step you take, no matter how small, is a victory. Trust this process, as slow and painful as it may feel at times. What took years to construct will take time to deconstruct, but every bit of it is worth it. We got this !