Wrath's Inferno

I rub the tiredness from my eyes and crane my neck to listen in the dead of night. I swear I heard a door open. I wave off the thought. It’s probably just my imagination from all of my late nights at work; the doors were locked before I came up. A creaking floorboard stops my heart in my chest, sending a maddening pulse into my ears. Someone is here. Ice slides through my veins with every footstep ascending the staircase and drawing closer. Forcing my stunned limbs into action, I creep along the floor to my window and hide behind my bed like a child. Every too noisy breath dares to give away my position.

When I moved to a smaller, quieter town I thought I was escaping the criminals flashing across the nightly news, but they’ve found me regardless of my efforts. I push on the stubborn window pane. It doesn’t budge an inch.

Creak.

The luxury of time is not afforded to me or the window I should have fixed the day I moved in. I give it another shove, my shoulder protesting in its socket. Glancing around my room, I search for anything to aid my escape or to fend off who will shortly become my attacker. Scattered books. Rumpled clothes. Nothing with a sharp end.

Creeeeeeak.

My back stiffens with the elongated sound only belonging to my bedroom door. A heavy energy looms behind me and every cell in my body ignites, screaming to survive by any means necessary. Loud, steady breaths trail into the room. With a shaky turn, I face them. A scream catches in my throat, also too afraid to make its presence known. My eyes dart back and forth in an effort to process the sight in front of me. A woman stands in my doorway, shoulders hunched into a menacing stance. We stare at each other—hunter and prey. Her matted, bloody hair clings to her dangling, half disconnected jaw. She takes a step, flapping the flesh cut loose in deep gashes.

She slowly cocks her head and smiles, brandishing a long butcher knife. Moonlight twinkles off the sharped metal she waves back and forth. Leaping forward, she slashes at me, slicing into my forearm as I jump over the bed and to the door. She shrieks a sound somewhere between a laugh and a growl, joyous and hungry. My stomach churns as I fly down the hallway. Glancing over my shoulder, a shriek of my own splits the air as she hunts me on all fours. Every step of hers covers two of mine. Her form flickers in and out of the solid being behind me to a translucent wisp.

Dangerous signs of hope flare as I draw closer to a possible escape. My foot stretches for the first stair, but she lunges, capturing my ankle in her cold, clammy grasp. A mangled shout rolls from my chest with my headlong descent, every thump sending a shot of pain. She scrabbles on top of me as I fall, clawing for purchase around my throat. This can’t be my end. It can’t. I will my fear into determination as I slap back against her hands.

“Big strong man isn’t so strong now, is he?” she hisses.

Tears threaten my eyes with her taunt. I’ve done many horrible things in my life, but I promised to do better, to be better. And haven’t I done enough? I help at the community garden. I even started attending church. I am not the same person I was before. I close my eyes briefly, promising everything bigger than myself that if I survive this, I will be the picture of a saint. Just let me survive.

A sharp sensation cuts my prayer short and my hand flies to my chest, instantly coated in crimson warmth. We crash into the bottom of the steps and I scramble to my feet. I wheeze and wince with every movement. The cool night air wraps around me as I launch through the still open door. Looking to my chest, my stomach drops with the deep cut and blood pouring from the wound—almost fatal if it was two inches left. My head spins with every droplet splattering into a Rorschach of death on the ground.

Her footsteps behind me thud in time with my own pounding into the pavement. My lungs burn with every step under the flickering streetlights. Opening my mouth to scream for help, my voice seizes. I try again; my plea is not granted. I dart across my neighbor’s lawn, beating on their door. With every strike of my fist, only a muffled sound replies.

With animalistic quickness, she crawls across the grass and my legs act of their own free will back toward the street. A haunting laugh rips into the night as her joy becomes the only true sound allowed. The air knocks from my lungs and I topple into the curb while she clings to my back, her fingers digging into my flesh like claws. The edges of my vision darken with the grass and dirt pressing into my open wound. I reach for the curb, splaying my fingers for anything sturdy to hold onto.

Bile shoots up my throat as a soundless scream bellows from my soul. I stare at the knife pinning my hand to the grass. The ringing in ears squeals. She leans down, bringing us face to face, and cackles as she twists the knife back and forth. Agony floods every sense and burns a path to the tears carving my face. Taking my head in both hands, she pulls me up. I squeeze my eyes shut as she slams me into the curb and I hold back the urge to retch with the cracking of my teeth and jaw. She rolls my limp body over and I spit a mixture of blood and teeth into the grass.

“Please. Don’t.” My breathless beg garbles with my hanging jaw.

“But why would you be afforded compassion when you had none to offer me?” she taunts. Her bloodshot eyes narrow with calculation.

I stare at her face, analyzing who she may have been before atrocity struck. She’s familiar… My spine curls into itself when the memory surfaces. My old neighbor—she was beautiful then. I only saw her a couple times before she moved away, claiming she wanted a quieter life as I passed her packing boxes into a van.

“And now, we must match,” she says with a smirk.

My awareness pulls from my body, watching her carve into me from above. I feel every slash, every severance of muscle from bone, but I am helpless against it. I surge toward my body in an effort to stop her, but an invisible force holds me back by the throat. I cry and plead for her to leave me be. What did I do to cause such fury? With every new river of red, I hear my pulse wane. She sits back on her heels when she is content with her work and looks up as if seeing my spirit.

“You will never know peace,” she growls.

And with that, she slices a deep line across my throat. My eyes below go wide, dulling with every spray of blood until I am ashen, my face frozen in terror. I scream from above, finally able to hear the sound of my pain. She throws the knife at me and when it strikes into my center, a gasping, choking breath rattles my lungs.

And my eyes open again.

White hot shackles bind my hands and feet to an iron table. I squirm against the scorch, desperately searching the space for any semblance of reality. Laughs and jeers rocket around the room behind shifting shadows in the flames.

“Help! Help me!” I call out.

“Welcome to your first night,” a voice snakes through the fire.

The flames split, revealing an entity with sharpened teeth and veins of fire running across his shadowy form. His yellow irises glint with amusement, only furthering the panic emptying into my stomach. I am no safer here than I was with the spectral woman.

“Wh-wh-where am I?” I stammer.

Hissing laughs snake through his answer. “The fifth circle of Hell. Wrath is your oldest friend and now, we are here to keep you company for eternity. You will sleep and you will have nightmares, but these aren't just nightmares. Oh no, they are their revenge for your crimes.”

“No, no, please I just—”

“You met your last victim,” the demon interrupts. “Now let’s meet the others.”