Chapter 1

Just as predicted, throwing himself against the wall, screaming from the pulsing pains in his sides, head snapping back, screams echoing loud and grunts heavy, done for. Breathing deeply, his body motions were quick and unpredictable. His mind became a blur, seeing the fluorescent lights all around and movements slurred once he hit the cold floor. Attempting to gain strength back in his system, he managed to push up a little on his hands and knees, but a quick kick to the gut prevented him from moving any further. Grunting, coughing, and tasting blood, Phil looked up as best he could at the dark faces staring him down above. Phil felt another impact in his ribs and fell back on the pavement, his hands and face scrapped, wincing loud.

Around the corner, a short, husky, dark figure approached the three men. He dug into his pocket and took out stacks of dollar bills, giving one stack to each man at one time. Phil managed to catch the husky man's face and balanced himself in a sitting position against the wall. Phil rubbed his nose with the back of his hand, but his nose began to burn. He winced his hand away and quickly found the husky man staring him down, a stack of dollar bills in hand.

"Here," The man threw the money at Phil. "Buy something nice."

Phil looked at the money that flopped flat at his feet. A huge wad of cash that carefully had seals and prints of one-hundred in the corners. Something in him wanted to take the offer, but he paused his hands from grabbing the money any further. He clutched his ribs and breathed deeper, the options floating in his spinning head.

"What do you want me to do?" Phil asked, staring at the husky man's face.

"You can save yourself, Brooks," The man said with a slight chuckle. "You've proven yourself tonight."

Phil grinned, tasting a hint of blood with his tongue. "So I'm in?"

The husky man looked over at the other men in the shadows, their body motions slim, then looked back at Phil. Phil's heart raced when the man's smile turned wicked.

"Yeah, Phil, you're in. But," The man paused. "No more Phil, got it?"

Phil nodded his head. "Got it. No more Phil."

"And no more mistakes. Now you've got to watch yourself. Your actions speak who you are. Understood?"

Phil nodded again and winced at the pain seeping into his skin. The husky man nodded at the dark figures and the other men came over and helped Phil to his feet slowly. Phil's eyes shut tight when he felt a sudden pain on his shoulder, followed by noises of static and wires.

"Hold still," A dark voice said. "This will only take a few minutes."

Phil grinned when he saw the symbol getting inked on his skin. He felt proud of himself for doing this.


Two Months Later

As the ringing of the alarm clock hit Phil's ears, his sleep became ruined. Phil grunted and turned over on his side, hitting the clock and sighing, curling up into a ball under the warm blanket. He wanted to close his eyes and travel back into his peaceful mind, but instead moved slowly towards the edge and stretched his arms above his head. He rubbed his eyes and quickly descended to his daily routine.

Slipping on the blue uniform, Phil began to ponder on the day's plans. Nothing special, so there wasn't any need to worry. After brushing his teeth and slicking back his hair, he moved quietly through his bedroom while the alarm clock went off again, the song echoing through the room. Phil slightly smiled at the song's lyrics, the voice of Ozzy Osborn loud, while putting on his boots. He flipped the switch on the clock and grabbed his folders and clipboard and car keys, heading out the front door. A soft whine brought him back, however, looking over at the hound dog in the corner of the room with a bowl in its mouth.

"Oh, yeah." Phil whispered, then proceeded towards the kitchen, dropping his supplies on the table.

He grabbed a can of dog food and watched the hound dog, Toby, drop the bowl, his mouth wide and tongue wet with drool. He dumped the contents into the bowl and scratched Toby behind the ears before grabbing his things again and leaving the room.


Outside, Phil walked towards his Jeep and placed his folders and clipboard in the passenger seat, moving into the driver's seat and starting the vehicle. Passing by the usual neighbors and annoying stop signs and lights, Phil managed to get a mile away from his little world and travel into another world he simply called Hell. Hating the place was just the beginning of Phil's problems. He wasn't the only one who got pushed back on pay a few weeks ago, happening on the day his bills were up for payment. Too many bills, too much work, too much partying.

Even Phil had to admit he was forgetting his own name when he hung out and got drunk with his buddies, half of which he could've cared less about but still found a way to hang with them. Phil sighed when he remembered that one chick that got away with him and ended up back at his place somehow. Seeing her next to him that morning was a wake up call of disaster. Whoever she was, whatever she was, or even if she existed or not, was long gone by now.

Making the turn, Phil came across the usual crossing guard who always had a bad temper. He'd attempt to smile at her, but she would look at him and put her hand up to stop his Jeep. Today was no different. Phil cussed under his breath and quickly made his Jeep come to a halt. He checked his watch and only had ten minutes to get to work. As the crossing guard quickly motioned the tiny children across the street, Phil leaned back and let his hands slide, throwing the watch in the passenger's seat. Looking at his surroundings, the same old buildings and same old people, nothing looked intriguing. The theatre had a few new movies, but what money in the world would pay to see a Romantic Comedy? Or better yet a Comedy? It made no sense to him.

Continuing to stare out into Hell, he noticed the crossing guard was letting more cars go on the other side than his side. Phil hit the steering wheel, trying best to keep calm, but in all fairness his days in Hell are forever the same. Torture, Pain, and Suffering.

Phil sighed and kept his hands into fists against the wheel, turning his head to get glimpses of the outside world. Then, a few yards away, a small, brown hair, coat clothed girl stood by the crossing stop, her hands touching her coat, her face free of expression and hair dangling past her shoulders and having a hint of matted spots. Phil closed his eyes, the girl obviously a mirage of Hell, but looking back at the crossing stop was the same girl. Clothes, hair, face, everything. Phil jumped in his seat when a series of noises entered his space, twisting his head around and noticing the angry drivers behind him, signaling him to move with their horns blasting loud and expressions crazy. Phil quickly pressed his foot to the gas and slowly moved past the crossing guard, giving him another look. He wanted to turn his head around, if the girl was still there, not just one crazy thing he saw out of nowhere, but couldn't as he kept moving down the straight road to his work. His Hell.