} Chapter 28 | Suicidal In Heaven – A Journey Of Choices by giovanicesconetto at Inkitt

Suicidal in Heaven – A Journey of Choices

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-Next! – Shouts a red demon with pustules covering its body and pus coming out of them.

I look around and finally understand it’s talking to me and I’m amazed it’s already my turn. Those corruptors entertained and distracted me more than I thought it would be possible. After all, I was in hell, there should be no laughter around here.

Next! – The demon’s voice becomes louder and angrier, its reddish tone of skin begins to shine, and I realize he was angry because I made him repeat the order.

I didn’t step forward, I jumped. We stare at each other for a while, ages, it seems. He studied me, I studied him. The demon stank of sulfur and rotten meat, pus spilled from the pustules, dripping on the counter. Some of it spilled on me, and it smelled even worse than the demon. I made a super-human effort not to vomit.

Hand. – He ordered.

Which one? – I asked.

The demon grabbed my right arm and dragged me to the counter. My forearm was bare. It was then I noticed I was naked, and used my left arm do cover my parts. My right arm touched the puss on the counter. It was too gross, I could still feel the warm white liquid on my arm. This time I can’t help myself and I throw up. An uncontrolled vomit came out of me, and I screamed. When I bent over, the demon pulled my arm, smashing my wrist and separating my arm from the body.

I was throwing up with an almost unbearable pain, ashamed for being naked, feeling the pus from the pustules of a demon on my almost amputated arm, and smashed wrist. Plus, I was in hell, getting ready for an eternity of suffering and punishment, sensing my parent’s sadness and with several questions in my head. But, trust me, nothing was worse than the heat.

I got up, trying to maintain a little dignity. Of course, that was impossible, but I tried anyway. The demons seemed to laugh, but the absence of a mouth (and face) makes it difficult to be sure. A knife emerges from the air, like magic, just as the sign, the counter and the line. It drops and severs my hand, I scream again, this time louder than before. The pain wasn’t greater than the others I had suffered in hell, but the surprise of seeing my hand separated from my body was a psychological blow.

The demon kept holding my arm, and that was the only reason why I didn’t fall down. With semi-shut eyes, I saw him grabbing my severed hand and putting it in a fingerprint analysis apparatus, I wanted to ask why didn’t he just asked me to hold out my arm, then I remember I’m in hell. I must suffer forever. The apparatus reads my fingerprints and a screen that wasn’t there before shows my picture and, by its side, all my sins. It’s a long list, much longer than I thought possible. How could I have sinned without having lived? The only sin I was able to read was the one I already knew.

The word “suicide” was printed right on my face, and I needn’t to be well to know that it was my greatest sin and that it was because of that I would suffer the most. My life on hell would be guided by that word.

The faceless demon smiles and I’m sure of that even without having seen it. The information about who I was amused him, in a recently created keyboard he types something, a hole opens up under me. The only thing that keeps me from falling is the demon, still holding my smashed wrist. I feel my skin connecting my body to my arm, and it was beginning to tear. I was blinded by the pain, felt something warm running through my arm, it was the blood gushing from my severed hand.

Let me g… - I began to scream, but drowned in a liquid that was thrown inside my mouth.

Even without seeing it, I knew what it was, I fell on the hole swallowing the demon’s pus.

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