Innocent

The sound of gunfire and a sharp pain. The scream. The sirens.

Red surrounds me as I wake to acidic air. Pulling myself up, I see a man cast in shadows in a throne in front of me. The shadow of wings behind him. As my eyes adjust to the dim red lights, his features come to view. A sharp jawline. Thin nose and lips. Neatly kept short hair. Dark hair color, black. Red eyes, glowing down on me.

I feel panic throughout my body. Looking left to right, I see horned beings. I turn to run behind me, but I’m greeted with yet another horned behind. I feel my heart begin to race, adrenaline spiking, flowing through my bloodstream.

Forcing myself to regain myself, I face the man in the stone throne. Taking a deep breath, I take a step forward. Putting the image of the horned beings behind me and the inhuman features of these beings in the back of my head. “Where am I?” I say, almost stuttering.

“Welcome to hell darling, where only the biggest and baddest survive” His voice is smooth, like the fur of a cat, rich like a chocolate cake, threatening like a jaguar stalking its prey. He brings out a clipboard, reading a text in a language I had never seen before. Some words, or parts rather, are recognizable. The text appears to be in Latin, but in a strange form of it. Like slang Latin.

“Ahhh well, this is interesting, your cause here is unknown, uncommon but not unseen” He grins at me like I’m his mouse and he’s the cat. My eyes copy the challenge. I will not be a mouse.

“You’re going to be a tough one, aren’t you Ms. Day?” He says, eyes reading me like a poem, one that’s left to analyze rather enjoy. I too study him, like a wolf waiting for the elk to spring.

“Maybe I will, maybe I won’t, you’ll just have to see, won’t you?” I repeat the cynical tone. The predator in me grinning, wild for a chase. I wait for the next war of words, as in a cat waiting for the mole to go under, I listen. Watching each word as if it’s a movie.

“Then we’ll see, send her to the town-- I’d like to see how she will fair there, and yes that town” I blink, confused. The mole had just grown wings and disappeared, instead of going for the hole. I glance to the guards, they take hold of my arms and drag me to the right. I see a door, large and made of blackened wood. Weird signals and swirls glow and haze, lining the circular frame. The door swings open on its own, into a black abyss. The guards launch me into it.

Weightlessness takes hold. Like I’m falling off a cliff but without falling. No motion to give a hint of it. Just black. Feeling the wind rushing by, but without seeing it. No dust or objects like Alice In Wonderland, just void.

Soon, light peaks through the corner of my eye and a blur of white hit me. I shut my eyes involuntarily, blocking out the sudden change of light. A rock-solid surface hits me, prying my eyes open, forcing them to adjust, I look around.

More like I had hit the rock-solid surface.

I stumble up, shocked by the sudden force, surprised by the little damage it dealt to my being. I lean against the nearest tall object, which happens to be a dead tree covered in thorn ridden vines. I snap my hand away at the sharp prickling pain while regaining my terrible balance.

I start to stumble down an old dusty road, leading down the middle of an old western town that looks to be placed randomly in Hell. Looking around, seeing forever still red-dusty-sunless skies and rotting wood building, I decide to keep moving forward, ignoring the creepy people who look at me like a hare.

After about a half-hour, I settle on some haystacks away from everyone. After finding out I am in Hell, despite all the bad people I put away and all the good people I saved, I really don’t want to deal with anything.

I turn after something tapped my shoulder, my heart sinks to see a little boy with fear-ridden eyes. His hair looks a mess and his blue eyes should never shine with that much fear. His arms covered in cuts and bruises. “Hey… you okay there?” I say, he shakes his head.

That’s when I feel a sharp pain. I look down to see the tip of a sword. Blood oozes out as if a dam had just broken free. The sword pulls out and I stop myself from falling to the ground. Knowing I’m dead, I try to ignore all the signals my nerves are giving my brain. I turn and punch a horned figure next to the not-so-innocent boy.. The figure falls to the ground as I keep the blurriness from reaching my eyes.

I’m dead, this pain has to be an illusion.

Just an illusion.

Illusion.

I’m dead.

I’m actually dead.

The demon springs up, I spot the sword on the ground and grab it before that creature could. Holding out the sword, I back away, facing the demon. Once the distance between me and the demon tripled, I turn and run.

How am I going to use this? Guns I know, but swords?

Running as if a pack of bears was behind me, I don’t stop. The pain from the wound starts to spread like a fire, infecting every part of my lower abdomen. I trip on a jagged rock, cutting up my left leg and falling into the hard cracking road.

I look up to see the man from the throne standing over me. “You won’t survive long” Is all he says before disappearing. Only the biggest and baddest survive. I pull myself off, getting a grasp on what’s around me. I start my looking for any possible exit route in case of attack, even for hiding spots. If only the baddest survived, then I need to be the baddest, if i’m able to change my morals.

I see alleyways and locked doors with darkness behind them, gated buildings and tall dead trees. Alleyways with dead ends, locked doors with no key, gated building guarded by demon dogs. The only way out is up, through a cloudy vortex high in the sky.

The fear climbs its way into my very being. Taking in a sharp breath, I strive down the shattered road. Looking left, looking right, beings of crime walk. Some wear their crime so well, others not so much. Cannibals with the craving for human flesh, murderers with blood cover clothes, serial killers with the drive for death painted on their faces. My mind analyzes each feature, each glance, each step. Deep internal instincts surge their way forward.

Walking towards a door, I look around the ground for something, anything that can be used as a tool, whether that be prying the door open or picking the lock.

My hazel eyes land on a piece of wood that’s not too rotted it will break. Using it as a pry, the door opens with some effort, swinging open with a loud crash as it bangs against the old mildew laced outer wall.

Stepping into the shadows, my pupils dilate, revealing a shadowy figure sitting in a chair, which transformed into a mantled looking elder woman. She is covered in open wounds, bruises, scraps, and cuts. Half of her skull is gone and all that’s left is brainy mush with red liquid dried on the surface. Her head turns to me, like an owl. A creepy yet friendly smile spreads across her face. I stop myself from running to the door when I see half of one of her legs torn completely off and half of one of her hands dangling on a couple tendons. “Hello darling,” says an unexpectedly soft and friendly voice with hidden grief.

“Are you-- what…” speechless. I have no words to describe the utter horror that seizes me. Her eyes saddened for a moment, taking in the state she is in. Guilt creeps into my heart.

“Sometimes the people are worse than the demons,” She says, I can sense a story behind that. Many stories even. Feeling oddly at ease, I creep in and settle into a rocking chair across from hair.

“The demons don’t have to do the torture, they leave it to the people”

“Why… why are you here? With these… kind of people?” I ask as confusion and anger seeps in.

“I did no wrong, I was a priest’s girl who aged and died of a normal heart attack” I wonder, is this a new type of torture? Filling one with grief? I want all her pain to go away.

“But somehow I’m here, like you darling, I can tell you don’t belong here,” She says, a calm smile in her eyes. The burning sensation to right the wrongs here spreads like wildfire, but I’m only human--or ghost at this point.

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that, I let innocents die because I could save them in time, I could of put the wrong people away, there’s a lot of possible mistakes in my life,” I say, brushing back brown strands of hair.

“Oh sweetheart, that’s not on you and you seem too smart for that, What’s your name dear? I’m Betty” I study her, disbelief riding my eyes like waves. A chuckle escaped her dry lips as she reads me.

“I’m Lauren,” I say, “Lauren Day.”

“My dear, you have a detective’s eye, don’t you?” I nod and too that she laughs.

“My dear ol’ boy was a cop, just like you, for while when I got here I thought maybe it’s cause of him I’m here” I wait to hear more, she sees this and smiles.

“Good to have someone to listen around here, you don’t see that often” She smiles, “Couple years back, before I was thrown in this place, My son was on a case trying to catch a criminal who hurt a couple of poor young girls, he’d kidnap them and do horrendous things to the underage sweetpeas, then he’d kill them when they got too much or he got bored. So, my son Mathew wanted to stop that, after all, he had a daughter of his own who was just starting high school at the time. He didn’t trust no one-- well anyway, he found this fellow’s hideout and ambushed it with a team and caught the awful man, but my son wasn’t too lucky” She pauses, reliving the memory. I give her reassuring eyes, causing her to return it with a sympathetic gaze.

“He was put into a coma after a bullet to the brain, didn’t wake up for a year and my family and I, we just couldn’t stand to see him suffering like that, but it was my choice. I had them pull the plug” She says, a tear streaming down her face.

“What you did wasn’t wrong, I’m sure he doesn’t mind” I reply.

“After trying to survive here, I learned that, seeing all these people…” She looks to her arm. I shake my head, I can’t believe this. I wonder who would let this happen. I slowly get up and give her a hug, trying not to hurt her.

“Thank you, Lauren, I wish someone could just end this like I ended my dear Mathew’s suffering” I look to the floor, then to the door.

“I wish I could help you-- but these demons there are--”

“They have weakness and whatever that Lucifer wants you to think, he doesn’t want us here any better than we want to be here” I crock my head at this. He seemed pretty joyful at my suffering. I doubt he would care whether or not whose good and whose bad,

“From what my daddy told me in Sunday school, Lucifer punishes the bad, not the good,” She says, “I believe if anyone can help us, it’s you. Think of all the people you saved, think of the people you gave justice” She says.