When the sirens and screams began to fade, I knew I was leaving soon. I took a last glance at the tearstained face of my mother and closed my eyes, succumbing to the everlasting sleep.

I opened my eyes and for a moment I thought I was looking at my mother again, but sadly it was a whole different face. The smell of fire and the crackling of embers radiated off of this man, giving him an aura of pure heat. Malice gleamed in his eyes, the kind that has been raging for centuries. The horns towering on his head were eroded with time.

“I don’t understand,” I barely managed to whisper. My voice failed me, clogged with the smoke and ashes coming off the ground. The heat seeped through the soles of my shoes.

Satan grinned. “Nobody ever does.” The way he smiled was not gentle, nor polite even. It was a smile of evil, of death, of hell.

I was in hell. My mind, muddied by the shock of dying, hadn’t processed the fire and screams of the tortured. “But-“

Satan shot me a look. “Predictable. The worst ones even try to convince me of their innocence.” He flashed me the same smile. “Don’t even try. It won’t work.”

He began to walk away, likely expecting me to follow. I stood, rooted to the ground, confusion swirling in my head. I didn’t belong here. I didn’t think so, at least…

I’d never been especially good. I’d never done anything big to help the world. I’d never been evil either, though. I still didn’t understand.

Satan looked at me again. His flaming eyes bored into my soul. “Well?”

My mind a whirlpool of questions, I followed Satan, slowly, taking in the horrible sights.

Hell was everything I had been told. It was densely populated, packed into torture machines. It broke me to see the world from this view. My brain, once filled with thoughts, shattered. I saw famous evils protesting that they were innocent. It hurt to know how people could be so… bad.

Satan led me past towering infernos and pools of lava, all filled with shrieks of the dead. He finally stopped me at a pit of fire. I wasn’t sure what to do. I kept thinking, “I don’t deserve this. But do I?” Conflict arose in me, and I couldn’t force it down. Tears sprang to my eyes and I looked up at Satan.

“Do I really deserve this?” I whispered.

Satan, his malicious gaze unwavering, responded, “Whatever you think. I hope you tear yourself apart trying to decide. That may be the worst torture you experience here.”

He pushed me.

I fell into the pit, watching my translucent skin char and blacken. Ash filled my lungs and I couldn’t breathe- could I breathe before? Was this my imagination? Satan’s words burned in my mind, over the fire’s heat. Am I evil?

The more I thought about it, the less the fire hurt. After a few moments I went numb. The fiery walls around me couldn’t kill me.

I thought back to when I was alive, just before I died. Mom and I sat in front of the fire, the crackling and burning a sweet relief on the frosty winter’s day. Mom cuddled me closer, reading from my favorite childhood stories. She didn’t even need the book- we both knew them by heart.

I loved those moments, just Mom and I. I pretended the fire around me was just a hearth, offering me warmth and not burns. I told the stories to myself and pretended I was with Mom.

Hell wasn’t so bad, if you were innocent.