The Floors of Hades

Chapter One: "When Life Gives You Lemons"

A wise man once told me that when life gives you lemons, you make lemonade. Now I'm sure all of you have heard the same crap, but he didn't just leave it at that. Good old Damian, he told me that not all of the lemons are always ripe. No, sometimes they grow in the dirtiest slums this world has to offer, and that's where the true talent is.

You see, I wasn't the sharpest knife in the drawer. But don't think that made me the bad apple of the bunch. No, I was one of the kindest kids you could talk to on that rusted old playground by the old school building. The other kids were the trouble makers. They would come around, and draw on the swing-sets and slides. They'd go to the youngest kid, and demand for their money unless they would like to lose their first few teeth. Me? I would just watch. Wouldn't hurt anybody, wouldn't help anyone either, but I just watched.

Damian was like me. He was one of those people who had a familiar face, but one you just couldn't put a finger on. His bright red hair gave an illusion of a welcoming bonfire, and his friendly brown eyes gave him his strong, proud aura. His nose always made him look as if he were sick, as it was a slight pink in tone, but he was one of the healthiest people I ever knew.

Our first encounter seemed to be fated. You see, one of the kids saw me playing by the slide one day, and decided to pay me a little visit. It didn't really hurt, but I faked the pain. Best to give him what he wanted so he'd leave me alone. As I cried crocodile tears, I realized the kid had stopped kicking me. I looked up, and there was Damian, slapping the kid senseless. When he finally let the poor kid stumble away, he turned to me, and held out his hand. I took it, shivering.

"Why'd you help me?" I asked him. "It didn't hurt."

"I know." He told me. "Just looked like you could use a friend."

From then on, we were inseparable. I told him everything. About my Mom and Dad, who thought of me worse than garbage. Of my late dog, Walter, who was my only solace in that Hell of a home. I even told him about the box of matches under my bed, and my plans to burn my house to the ground just so I wouldn't have to see Mom or Dad again. He listened, and he nodded.

His first gift to me was given a month after we met. While it's true I had terrible grades in school, Damian soon found that I had other, more useful talents. After one particularly violent argument with Dad, I found myself locked outside for the night. Damian was there, and he handed me a bar of iron. It felt so natural, placing the bar between the door and its frame. There was barely a sound as I opened the door by force. Damian urged me inside, and we wandered through the house. He told me to grab my matches.

I hated them more than anything in the world. Still, I couldn't help but to cry when Damian killed them. I had never seen something so horrific. As I watched him, I swore to myself I would never stoop that low. No matter how bad a person was, they didn't deserve that.

We burned the house to destroy the evidence. Damian took me to a place near the park, a small little camp under a bridge. He said that I could stay there. He didn't say the place was his, but he didn't say it belonged to anyone else either. All I knew at the time was that it was a safe place, and that Damian would be close.

I loved the next gift even more than the last. That Christmas, Damian came back with a friend. A golden retriever. The pup ran towards me through the snow, and started licking my face once he reached me. I laughed and cried, overcome with joy and grief. Damian told me his name was Walter. Never had I been more grateful for having Damian as my friend.

Walter and I would go hunting sometimes. It was in his blood to kill, after all. Damian brought me food sometimes, but only enough to last the day. I couldn't snack on anything, or else I would run out.

Whenever Walter caught something, we'd take it back to our camp under the bridge. I'd take the iron bar Damian gave me, and I'd skin our catch with the sharpest end. It would take a while to cook, but it always tasted amazing. I would never know a better companion.

The one-year anniversary of our meeting was when Damian started to ask something in return of me. Life in the camp was much better than when I was with Mom and Dad. I didn't see the bullies, Mom and Dad were gone, and I didn't have to go to school, so I spent a lot more time with Damian. But, it was pretty boring. Damian knew exactly what I could do.

Technically, it wasn't my first time breaking into a house. But did it count if you broke into your own house? I don't know, but this is the first time I ever used those skills Damian had seen in me all those months ago. And for my first time, Damian said I did pretty well on my own.

The house was empty. The family had decided to take a vacation, Damian told me. My only instructions were to take whatever looked like a lot of money. I took all of the sparkly things. The jewelry, the silverware, the china. It all fit nicely in the sack Damian had lent me. I left behind some of the things I knew was expensive, but was too big for me to carry. The television and home computer were among these items. Even though there was no chance of getting caught by the owners, it still thrilled me, enthralled me. I just had to do this again. Right at the start, I was hooked.

Damian took what I stole, and went to take it to someone else. He returned later with the amount it was all worth in cash. He gave it all to me, praising my work. He didn't even take a single penny for himself. We would do this many times over the next several years, until Damian moved on. He said I could finally go out and do this by myself, make my own way to the top. Make sure that everyone knew my name. And I guess I'm starting with you.

My name is Tim Denson, and this is my story.