Hell is hot. What many people fail to realize when they use the expression 'hot as hell', is the sheer heat of the place. It's an unbearable, blistering fire that licks at your flesh and burns wherever you let it touch.
It took me fifteen years to pull myself out of hell. Ten years to find a way out while withstanding torture. Four years to escape and reach the gate. One year to drag myself to the human world. The first thing I remember from the day I finally dragged myself to freedom was the feel of the air, fresh and cold on my skin. I remember only a blur of grey all around me, likely that of the city, and then darkness.
When I came to, I smelled alcohol and bleach- the clean smell of a hospital. I remember not being able to move or open my eyes and I panicked before blacking out again.
I spent a lot of time there drifting in and out of consciousness. I heard names being thrown around by officials trying to identify me, and the name "Dante" pierced through my senses. I knew that name. That name belonged to someone important. I had opened my mouth and tried to shout, whisper, grunt, say something, but nothing came out- just air. Before long I was out again.
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