But he was sick of this charade. Sick of watching people lose a little more of their humanity each day, and sick to death of seeing people tortured in the name of God. What had happened to these people?

The darkness is calling. A little danger, a little risk. Feel your heart race. Listen to it. That’s the sound of being alive. It’s your time, Nick. Your one chance to have fun before it’s all stolen by them, the adults, with their cruelty and endless rules, their can’t-do-this, and can’t-do-that’s, their have-tos, and better-dos, their little boxes and cages all designed to break your spirit, to kill your magic.

Burn? Smite? Punish? Why is your god so intolerant? So jealous? Why must there be only one god? Why is there not room for many?

And Peter laughed, and when he did, all the Devils grinned, because Peter's laugh was a most contagious thing.

Peter finds the lost, the left-behind, the abused. Is that not why you are here? Did Peter not save you?

Demon or not, it didn't matter, suffering was everywhere he looked.

My tale doesn't end there, for the end has yet to be written.