What is Hell ?

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
"Heather ? Oh, Heather !" he cried, leaning down to touch my cheek softly but pulling away when i cringed. "What - Why ?" he asked.

I would not consider this horror but it certainly was not complete adventure and stuff. Sorry. :P

Submitted: November 07, 2009

A A A | A A A

Submitted: November 07, 2009



What is hell ? I used to think that hell was merely a place of the afterlife, where you'd go for all of your sins but it seems that i was wrong. Hell is not a pit of fire with a horned devil whipping your backside at your backside as you slave around in the scorching heat. No, hell is somewhere i've been living for a long time and their indeed is a devil. Only a devil so heartless and cruel would be like the one i used to love. I no longer believe in love, nor that their is such a place as heaven but i do believe in hope. Hope is what keeps me alive, something that i can grasp in the most desperate of times. I live in hell but believe in hope.
I closed my eyes tightly, a whimper escaping my throat as he stared down at me with his hate filled eyes. I could not believe that it was him doing this to me, but i'd known it would happen. Somehow. I opened my eyes slowly, but what i see is that their is more pain to come as he raises his hand to strike. "Please...." i plead him, but he ignores me and grips his liquor bottle tighter in his thick hand. His eyes are scrunched tightly as he delivers his next blow. My head spins and i cry out in pain, and i continue to wonder why it was him doing this to me. I knew this was hell and i hated it.

When he had finally ended his cruel torture, he was lying on the couche in a deep unconsciousness. My heart was pounding as i stood up, everything hurt as i began carefully walking towards the stairs. Praying all the while that he would be too drunk to awaken and beat me once more. Carefully placing my foot upon the first step, i cringed at the squealing sound as the wound strained against my weight and then i ran. Ran up the flight of stairs until i entered my room and closed the door. I jump onto the bed and cower underneath my blankets, praying he didn't hear me.

Why do i pray ? When i believe in no such god ? Perhaps only because i believe in hope, a tiny amount of hope that has kept me from death. Yet, i believe in the devil how my life has become the living hell i've heard many complain about. I know now that hell is this. My life.

Looking up from my pillow i manage to spot a silver knife, with a black handle. My eyes focused and i saw the dried blood on the blade. "To stop the pain ? Or to endure ?" i asked myself, quietly. I heard the creak of the stairs and the cursing words as he had noticed my absence. "Oh Hope !" i exclaimed softly, tears stinging my eyes and my wounds pulsing painfully. I will die before i let him torture me again, i thought with a determined yet grim smile. "Oh, lovey !" i heard him call, his drunken voice scratching through his throat. I cringed at the sound, and then it was time.

The door handle shook as his massive sweaty hands grasped at it and began to turn it slowly. "Heather ?" he asked, he knew i was here. Why bother asking ? my mind screamed. The door opened a crack and pulled wider by the second. I lunged for the knife and grasped it in my hands. "To stop the pain !" i screamed and plunged the knife into my chest, but missing the heart. I saw his beautiful face, twisting into the familiar mask of the devil but i also saw the flickering face of my old love. His face tanned with a slight covering of sweat and his golden hair falling delicately into his eyes, "Jack ?" i whispered, my voice barely audible. I could hear his labored breathing as he took in the scene before him.

"Heather ? Oh, Heather !" he cried, leaning down to touch my cheek softly but pulling away when i cringed. "What - Why ?" he asked. I turned my head away, "Because of you." i rasped painfully. He blinked, tears falling from his beautiful face and i hated his pain. His drunken act was now put away as he grew completely sober. "I'm sorry." he whispered, his voice filled with truthful agony. "I- I forgive you.." i managed. He kissed my cracked and bloodied lips softly, and whispered, "I love you, Heather. I always will, and i'm forever sorry." but i hadn't enough strength to answer him. My heart gave another fluttering beat and then stopped. My head fell to the side limply and i felt my spirit wash out of me.

Jack brought his hand close to the limp figure's face and gently brushed the eyelids closed. Murmuring the same thing, "I'm sorry, so sorry." His eyes were filled with agony as he remembered, now, from the night before the occured beating. He'd seen her frightened face but his mind had been fogged with a drunken haze. He looked at the liquor bottle he had grasped tightly in his hand and stood up. His movement one of anger. He shook the bottle violently and then threw it at the bedroom wall and screamed his rage. "It's my fault she's dead !" he shouted to himself, "My fault... If i hadn't been a drunken idiot, i would never have done those horrid things !" he whispered. He dropped to his knees once more, infront of her and looked at her now peaceful face. A single tear still trailing down her cheek and he closed his eyes tightly. "I'm so sorry, Heather. My love, my life." he whispered.

Above a woman wept, her tears a silver glow and she watched below as the man of her life wept as well. "My love, my life. I forgive you, I forgive you." she whispered, wishing that they could be together once more.

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