hey! this is rated M because it's a bit of a spin on religion, and i know religion can be a bit of a touchy subject, and i just don't want to totally offend anyone. so i'm saying right now, if you get offended by religion or beliefs that aren't your own, please don't read. it's rated for language, and gross-ness (in this chapter only). This story is also rated M because i'm not really sure how violent later chapters will be. the second chapter should be up fairly soon, but i'll be waiting for five reviews. they don't have to be positive, but they can't be flames. so FLAMERS BEWARE!

disclaimer: I don't own the DaVinci Code, or any of it's characters. if you aren't sure if i own something in this story, email me. i will take pity on you and give you an answer, along with advice on where to get a brain.


Silas stared at the sea of decay, the stench bombarding his senses. It had seemed like years since he had first arrived here, but the smell never went away, and he never got used to it. Sometimes it wasn't as strong. When he first woke up, starving, parched, and confused, the smell had made him gag. The smell came in waves, and at the highest points, it would actually cause Silas to collapse to his knees, often feeling the need to barf. But that's something you can't do when there's nothing in your stomach. Nothing. No food, no water, not even goddamn stomach acids. How is that possible?

Anything is possible, when you're dead.

And when you're in Hell.

In Hell, the demons' screams keep you awake at all times, no matter how tired you are, and everything is hard and dry and dark.

And cold.

Oh, you thought Hell was all fire and brimstone? Well you'd be right- sort of. It's hot at first. When you die you get this feeling as if you were falling and it's hot and you feel on fire but you can't put it out, because you can't move, and the air is too hot to comfort you and you just keep falling until boom! It goes cold. And you wake up someplace new, different than anything you've ever seen. You don't know what time day, month or year it is, and you can only remember enough of your life to make you miss it.

And you're alone. No one comes and tells you you're in hell. You probably will never see anyone else; not another dead person, definately not Satan, not even one lousy demon. You can hear them, sure, but you will never have to see one. It makes them all the more horrible.

It was no different for Silas.

He woke up confused, knowing that this wasn't heaven. Knowing that when he died that's where he would be, and so he must not be dead.

He was wrong.

He'd changed his mind since then.

He'd changed his mind on a lot of things. The price of killing, of truth and lies, and forgiveness. He had asked the Lord for forgiveness, but he was sent to Hell anyway.

He still prayed. He prayed to God, the Lord, the Almighty, for redemption. He prayed for forgiveness, for a second chance. He prayed, but his hope was gone. No more hope for Silas, the monk stuck in hell. His suffering did nothing to bring him closer to forgiveness. Of course, Hell wasn't used to people praying there, and They didn't like it, not one bit. So every prayer, and word muttered under Silas's breath became a struggle.

Eventually, Hell assured Themselves, eventually he would break and the prayers would stop, and all would be as they should.


Thank you for reading! I'm working on the second chapter even as we speak, so to speak. Haha, anyway, I know this was short, but there's not really anything else that could happen in this one. I can't promise that the next one will be longer, because I'm not sure it will be. I'll just have to see. This chappie was more introductory anyway, so in the next one, the plot will start…plotting…. heh heh. Please review. There may not be much to review on, but I like to know that I'm having –some- effect on my readers (if I have any!)

if someone would like to be my BETA for this fic, I would be happy to accept help.

I wont post my next chapter until after I get five reviews. And the next chapter is when it starts getting good.