Chapter 1 – Welcome to Hell (Flashback)

“I am dying. Halp!”

Right now I am spasming in my last moments, chocking on an fishbone that's stuck in my throat. It began quite innocent with a slight feeling of discomfort that gradually evolved into fear and finally resulted into my surrendering to the situation after all of my efforts have proven to be in vain (such as excessive beating on my breast or trying to gulp down some water).

Pants down, I fell from my chair, grabbing onto my computer in front of, and tearing it down with me. I absentmindedly notice that my kicks and spasms hit a shelf resulting in further mayhem.

Slowly falling into unconsciousness, i saw a light.

That is how I died.

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“Uahhhhhh!”

Screaming with all of my might, I woke up only to realize that a spear was struck through my abdomen.

“Arghhh. Helpppppp...”

I died again while my own blood was silencing my pleas.

The next time I woke up in a similar situation, two swords impaling my lungs. It was a vicious cycle. Whenever I would regain consciousness I would be immediately hit by an outdated tool for killing.

[Seriously, who's using medieval weapons in this day and age? Couldn't you come up with something more original?]

Just as I was thinking this I noticed that a big pot with a blazing hot liquid was emptied on top of my head signaling my next death.

“Oh...a lava shower. That's new...”

It's not that I was completely unaware of my surroundings, except for the momentary weapon of choice from my torturers. After a number of deaths I grew somewhat accustomed to the constant hacking, slashing, decapitating and burning. My consciousness wouldn't immediately fade into darkness anymore the moment something hit me. Usually people are able to hold onto their senses longer but here you are hit with such a power that you would immediately become unconscious, so it took some time to learn how to hold out longer. The trick to it is steeling your mind. I am not talking about anticipating the pain, that makes it only worse. What I am talking about is the will to witness everything until the end, rewriting the natural safety mechanisms of the human mind that force a shut down to safe one from further harm.

Obtaining such a will was a difficult task for someone like me who had lived his live in as easy a way as possible.

In the beginning, I tried to shut out every information that my senses would try to convey to me, falling into a catatonic state. Sadly, that was not possible. I guessed it was not allowed to find peace in a secluded point inside your mind where you could withdraw yourself into, in here.

Oh, how I longed for a place of solace inside that psyche of mine. I tried to imagine a serene place, a forest with big trees where single rays of light would break through, creating a beautiful atmosphere. The wind would play a relaxing tune passing through the leafs and fireflies would fill the air. Under the biggest tree I would picture myself, in a kneeling pose. I don't know why I came up with this particular scene. It just came naturally to me.

It took me one month to accept the fact that closing my eyes would never bring the freedom from pain I was so desperately trying to find.

[There is no escaping. I died and I continue to die. There comes another blade. Where will it hit?]

“Uarghhhhh!”

I felt an incredible pain when my right arm was cut off. And some more when my other arm was hit.

[I'm being toyed with. This time it's a slow death.]

Next were my legs and I fell on the stumps, while I was being held in place by chains. The chain around my neck started to strangulate me after I lost my legs. This time it's a mix of blood loss and strangulation.

[Just why is it so painful? The fishbone was nothing compared to that. Damn! Now i'm already starting to remember less painful deaths to distract myself from the current one. Don't fade away. There is no escaping. I already know that. Keep looking.]

With time I started to observe my surroundings. I was astonished, upon finding out, that I was wrapped in chains. Until then I only vaguely noticed them. But is is something entirely different if you open your eyes and willfully observe something. Not giving much thought to it I just simply accepted them as fitting to the ambience. It was like consciously taking notice of a tree in a forest. Although the better comparison would be to take notice of a grain of sand during a tornado or a single drop of water in an ocean. Once I noticed them, though, I couldn't take my eyes off of them anymore. They gave off an ominous feeling. Whenever I would get killed, they'd start glowing in a dim blue light.

For the next couple of weeks (yes, it takes such a long time, because as soon as you wake up you would usually be already hit by a deadly strike) I concentrated all of my attention towards those chains. I found out that it was actually just one long chain. I followed it's path around my body, arms, legs and finally the neck. From there it would stretch out left and right and restrain other souls in a similar manner like me.

One would ask why the first thing I tried to ascertain wasn't the source of all those spears, swords, flails, arrows, hammers and so on? That wasn't necessary. When you die, the figure of your executioner is etched into your eyes. When I was finally able to notice more details, hundreds of faces were already ingrained into my soul. The fact is that those creatures occupied my attention for the most part so I wasn't even able to look at something else until I decided to force my eyes to do so.

The place of my continuous suffering was Hell. Not like hell. It was literally Hell. How did I come to this conclusion?

[Demons, brutal imprisonment, and never ending torture. There's only one place like this.]

I followed the path of the chain, holding other people captive, enduring the same kind of treatment like me.

[Obviously souls.]

I didn't think something like a soul did exist in the first place. Not because I wasn't affiliated with any kind of religious teaching. Rather, the concept of a soul didn't really appear that convincing to me.

One of my hobbies while I was still alive was to troll the shit out of forums or chats. The easiest way to do so was to drop one single sentence. Either 'God exists.', or 'There is no god.' If the comment wasn't immediately deleted it had always proven to be a successful tool to lure in some prey. The more you knew about the topic, the higher the theoretical number of people you could get agitated. Those discussions had only one purpose after all. Nothing noble like standing up for your convictions, no...it was a simple dirt throwing contest. Nothing else. Everyone knows this, yet a lot of people still willfully take the bait because they think the kind of dirt they can throw is bigger than the rest. The fun part was to make them forget about belittling others and actually defend their beliefs in all sincerity. - Ha! Trolled -

I know it's petty. Me, that is...

Still, I invested a surprising amount of time into reading up on those topics, all for the sole purpose of not getting virtually thrashed by people who actually knew their way around that metier.

The term soul has all those religious connotations but in reality it is just a philosophical concept of ancient greek philosophy. You can come pretty close to understanding the idea behind it, if you compare it to an inanimate object. What makes a chair a chair? Is it the form? Maybe, but when the chair is broken you still have an understanding of that particular chair. From that the philosophers derived that the core of one's existence isn't bound by appearance or time. Voilá! A soul.

I simply couldn't connect such a thing to the religious promise of salvation. Why were religions always bothering with a crude notion such as the 'soul'? In my eyes it was an abomination of a thought. Neither completely in a philosophical, nor in a theological realm.

Yet, here I was witnessing an existence after death, resembling my former appearance as a human being, constantly losing limb after limb and barrels of blood just to magically reappear after a moment.

The rest of hell looked just like you'd imagine it. Situated in the underground, streams of flames slowly making their way, occasionally swallowing a group of souls and releasing them again after a change in flow. I was also hit by that a couple of times, dying over and over again in the manner of two heartbeats. Later that number was raised up to five.

Everyone who lands in Hell has probably the same train of thought sooner or later.

[Hell is reserved for the sinners...i can't say that I don't know what I did to deserve this.] No, I really couldn't. “I beat mother.” It didn't matter to me what other sins i've committed. Oh yes, in the beginning I did try to remember all kinds of past misdoings. Stacking them all on top of each other and determining the time when the scale was tipped in favour of Hell. After a while I stopped doing this, though. That was just a foolish way of thinking. In the end it is the crystallization of a single act that brought me here, because it was a reflection of my inner being.

This place forces you to look things straight into the eyes. There was no more room for sloppiness simply because nothing would have been gained by it. Closing your eyes from the truth only holds some kind of merit, albeit a questionable one, when you stand to gain something from it. Similar to it nothing could have been gained by accepting the truth, either. The specialty of Hell is to not offer any kind of redemption. You weren't inclined to face yourself. You were tortured no matter what.

There probably isn't a moment I remember more clearly, than when I came to that conclusion.

[How long has it been that i've harbored these thoughts now? I see my next death coming already. A young demon with a club.] He broke my bones with a look in his eyes telling me that he was eager to saviour every bit of the experience. A natural sadist.

“Is smashing my bones that fun?”

Not even reacting to my question he proceeded with his brutal act. If anything, it made him even more vigorous. For him I was nothing else than an animal. Begging or even mockery only added to him enjoying the situation all the more.

Finally he aimed the club at my head, marking the opening to the grand finale. There's always a certain kind of look reflected on the faces of those demons in anticipation of the kill during these moments. Another pair of eyes burning their way into my memory...

After around seven months I had started to experience this particular moment in slow-motion. He raised the weapon above his head forcing the blood and skin of mine that was sticking to it to fly away. The club then followed a perfect vertical arc that would lead it's tip right towards my forehead. I looked straight at it while thinking.

[Yeah...i know. There is absolutely no merit in accepting it now. It's only...it's only...the only right thing left to do. I did a horrible thing to her. All this pain I experience...what does it matter in the face of this?] Realizing this the pain didn't disappear. It didn't even become a little bit more physically bearable. However, it was a difference like day and night.

I whimpered:

“M-mother. I...am at fault. I'm so sorry. I love you. I LOVE YOU!!!”

Splatt!

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Death couldn't bring out the usual fear after while. But I dreaded facing myself for a long time. Hell just had this kind of effect on me. I learned to love my mother and it filled me with regret.