My violated smiling body, as if it was happy about what had happened, was put in another ambulance. The employee that did that awful thing smiles as he had just experienced the biggest orgasm of his life. He committed a crime, did something unforgivable and wasn’t caught and, worst than that, made it look like my body enjoyed it. I can do nothing but feel angry and wait, knowing hell is real and there is suffering through all eternity after life, which is the only thing that comforts me. Even if the never suffers anything during his lifetime, life is short. When he suffers, it’ll be for a longer period than a lifetime, it’ll be for eternity.
The thought soothes and comforts me, at least a little. It could never fully restore my happiness, if it could, then I would smile, and happiness and smiles are not compatible with the suffering a suicidal must experience in hell. And that’s what I am, a suicidal who has condemned himself to eternal suffering. I’m just trying to figure out if that employee will suffer more or less than me. I want to believe it’s more, because the harm he causes is much greater than what I did. I destroyed only my own life and my parents’, while he causes suffering to the dead, he’s an instrument of torture for hell, who knows how long he’s been doing that. Furthermore, if the living knew what he’s doing, he would destroy more lives than I have. How would you feel if you knew your loved one was violated by a psychopath who needs to do that in order to reach orgasm? He deserves a much worse hell than mine, I’m sure of it.
Something new was about to be shown to me, so I left that part of my suffering behind. I hoped It wasn’t new body violations, I couldn’t stand to see that which was my vessel for so many years go through what it had been through again. I deserved to be punished, I knew that, but preferred that the punishment presented itself in a different way. It’s ok to make me regret killing myself, but not through my body being violated. Show me my parents pretending to be concerned about me, sad about my death, my parents crying, despairing, but leave sex maniacs out of this.
I’m inside the ambulance, I’m angry, I’m sad. I’m sure I deserve it. That by killing myself I chose an eternity of suffering. I regret what I did, regret not believing that there was life after death, and, most of all, I regret not being able to comfort my parents.
The psychological suffering comes back, and I find myself in a version of hell I had gotten used to. I almost feel at home, happy about returning to a familiar place. Almost. I could never have any kind of positive feelings, after all, I had killed myself. And, by killing myself, I’ve condemned myself to hell, and hell is a place of eternal suffering. I’ve thought about that several times, but, now I’m back, after all I’ve seen, and a new thought comes to my mind. A thought that scares me, but justifies what I’ve done. Hell is a place of suffering, just like life.