Chapter 1

Life Before Hell

Life is all about choices.

Everyone could make the choice to be a better person. It's not easy, at least not at first, but it becomes easier with time. Little things a person notices about themselves: their physical appearance, from hair color right down to gender, or something entirely internal. A struggle with demons unseen by others. These impulses range from self-harm to mass destruction, and most people struggle with them. Most of the time, the struggle doesn't seem so bad until things take a turn for the worse. After all, what is untested restraint really worth? Similar to untested faith, one would imagine.

A lot of people repress themselves for religion. Some to be accepted. Many do it out of fear, either of themselves or the rest of the world. But these reasons are usually not enough. The soul clings to irrelevant concepts to justify its desire to keep its darkness locked away. God says so. Family says so. Friends and strangers alike say so. Whatever the concept may be, there is a reason to hide less acceptable tendencies.

There are people in the world who play with this darkness, testing its limits and revelling in their experimentation with depravity. Others give themselves to the madness entirely, making no excuse nor apology for their actions and pursuing great feats without fear of opinion or repercussion.

So what happens when a person suppresses unsavory impulses because of their own selfish desire to be a different person than who they are? They don't change because others want it, nor do they necessarily become what others want. They are simply different because it is their desire to be so. Perhaps a cold, objective view from an otherwise passionate soul. Or a flamboyant person who internally hates to speak to people. Psychopaths taking the path less traveled towards betterment, or normals taking the spiraling road towards self-destruction just because they hate that they care about their every action and its effect on others and themselves.

To Elizabeth Veraci (preferring to be called Eliza by her peers), this was the most noble reason to pursue personal change and growth of character. If someone wished to repress noble or monstrous temptations and impulses simply because it was not who they chose to be, then what greater reason for change? Likewise, someone who is already sure of themselves is also worthy of respect, as they have no personal need for change and apologize to no one for what they do.

This made her a very interesting candidate in pursuing psychiatry.

However, her morbid curiosity and desire for others to choose who they are have now landed her in court. Her otherwise impressive record was now marred by, in her words, "a most unexpected success." She had been working in a prison as a counsellor, a probational job based on accusations of malpractice by colleagues. However, given what they provided against her was hearsay and nothing more, the organization she was a part of decided to suspend her psychiatry license and bump her down to a mere counsellor. She had made great progress with many inmates, who were never given a chance to be the good people they desired to become. However, not everyone in prison regretted their actions, and one such individual has placed her in a position to lose her license entirely.

This patient is a man named Jordan who murdered his abusive father. The situation was simple: the man was unarmed and did not make any dangerous advances when approaching his son in a public place. But the young man panicked and pulled his gun on him, firing before his father had a chance to get into his son's head. Apparently the man was good with stringing people along, and his son wouldn't give him the chance. Had his father been armed, he probably would have been released on probation immediately, and his gun seized.

But in prison, the man felt strangely empowered. There were other abusive people in prison with him, but he kept to himself, hoping that he would get out sooner for good behavior. Eliza was in charge of his counselling, and she learned something very quickly in their short time together: he had discovered a part of himself that day that he wanted more of. He wanted to kill the abusive bastards of the world, anyone who reminded him of his father.

She had several sessions with him, and over time she had broken him down to a troubled heap. He wanted freedom, but he knew many of his fellow inmates were abusers looking to get out and take revenge on the people they hurt. She remembered their final appointment before he went off the deep end.

"I want out to see my wife and kids again," Jordan lamented, holding his head in his hands. "They need me."

"Do you need them?" Eliza inquired, softly.

"I- what?"

"Do you need them?"

"O-of course I do!" He slammed his hands into the table separating them, standing up and looking the woman straight in the eyes, something he did very rarely with her. "I need to know they're OK, that they… they don't…"

"Judge you?" The words hit him right between the eyes. "Hate you?" His eyes started to look distant. "If that's what you truly care about, then why are you having a crisis? Behave, and your release is inevitable!"

"Because there are others here just like him!" he yelled. "Some of them have been here for years, but they'll be released too. They have fucking family out there that don't want them released, that are scared shitless of seeing them again."

"Why is this your problem?"

"Because I understand," he cried. "Why are they being released? They… they can't…"

"What would you do about it?"

"I-" he trailed off, his mind flashing with images of pulling a gun on his father. The rush of relief that he was finally dead, and that he would never trouble him or his family again. "I don't know."

"I think you know exactly what you would do," Eliza confronted gently, raising her hand as a signal for him to sit. "You have already dealt with one such individual, and it was effective."

"But, I can't-"

"The only reason you stop is because you fear what others think," she interrupted. Her calm demeanor was surprisingly persuasive, and he stopped talking to hear her out. "You think to yourself 'If I do this, they'll turn on me,' or 'I'll never get out of prison'. You say you can't, but the truth is you won't. Fear of outside opinion and punishment holds you back from doing something you feel you need to do."

"I want to be free," he muttered. "I-I want to-"

"If that is what you truly want, then be patient. Let the abusers you fear go free. Let go of your fear entirely. Forgive them, and by extension, the father you murdered. But, if freedom is merely an excuse? If your love for your family isn't enough to quench the burning cold in your soul for these people? Then maybe freedom isn't what you want. If this is enough to distract you from wanting to be with your family, from escaping a cell for the rest of your life…"

"What should I do?"

"That depends." She leaned forward, holding his frightened gaze with her steady, engaging one. "What do you want to do?"

And now, she sits in court for encouraging one of her charges to go on a killing spree. For a week after that session, abusers and non-repentant inmates were murdered. At first, they looked like suicides; smaller inmates hanged in their cells. But one in particular was a very large, brutish man. He turned up stabbed. Once the investigators put together that all the dead inmates were in for charges of abuse (among other things), they realized there was a serial killer inside. At first they looked into new inmates, but Jordan slipped up on his seventh successful kill and got caught. When questioned, he attributed his revelation to Eliza, who helped him see what he truly needed to do. He was then locked up in an asylum, and Eliza was promptly arrested.

The courts were shocked when Eliza didn't even try to deny the charges. She merely said "I asked him what he wanted. This was his answer." The trial was quick. She was stripped of her license, though she did contest the charge of being a conspirator in the murders. She may have pushed the man to act on his murderous intent, but only because he decided that was what he wanted, and not because she directly prompted him to kill. So even though she drove a patient of hers to murder, there was absolutely no evidence to put her in jail or even put her on probation. She simply needed to find a new means of employment.

"Thank you, your honor," she said with a sweet smile. The judge shivered slightly as she stood up and walked away. She had dressed in black slacks and a light-blue button-up shirt. She carried herself with pride, as if she had done nothing wrong, and the judge quietly cursed under his breath.

"Damn bitch," he whispered. "Not guilty my ass." But his hands were tied, and so she walked free. At least she wouldn't be in a position to drive people to madness. Or so he hoped. Admittedly, however, he was surprised by how flawless most of her record actually was. "What made her do something so stupid?" Unable to wrap his mind around it, he simply took his leave.

Eliza walked outside and was greeted by a surprising number of reporters. She merely smiled and pushed her way through, not caring at all for the attention they offered. If she wanted attention, she'd become a politician.

"Ms. Veraci," one reporter called, attempting to block her path. Eliza turned to acknowledge him. "Is it true that you're walking away from accusations of being an accomplice to murder?"

"I was accomplice to nothing," she answered calmly. "My patient decided what he wanted to do outside of our session."

"Is it true you pushed him to commit murder?"

"I pushed him to think about why his fellow inmates made it hard for him to want to return home to his family. He must have decided that it was more important for him to purge abusers than to see his wife and children."

"You lying bitch!" A gunshot rang out, and the reporters scattered. Eliza turned towards the woman who shot the gun. Every nearby policeman jumped into action, clearing out the people and pointing guns at the threat. "Jordan would never have done this on his own!"

"You must be Mrs. Monro," Eliza greeted politely. "A pleasure."

"Shut up!" She now pointed her gun at the former psychiatrist. "Just shut up!"

"Put down the gun," a nearby officer ordered.

"Take another step and I shoot," she shot back.

"Would shooting me save your husband?"

"No," she screamed, "but it'll stop you from ruining anyone else!"

"How did I ruin him? I asked him a simple question. He decided for himself-"

"Enough!" Mrs. Monro shook with a rage that threatened to tear her apart from the inside. "You did this. People like you made him what he is! You deserve to die!"

"People like me?"

"Abusers. Manipulators! You got into his head and broke him, just… Just like…"

"His father?"

"Yes!"

Eliza sighed. "I did no such thing. I told him he needed to make a decision. He made it. He put killing those men above you."

"Liar… You're a liar!"

"Put the gun down! I won't ask you again." The police officers were shifting. They wouldn't hold back much longer.

"You simply weren't important enough to stop him."

"Liar…"

"Move on."

BANG! As soon as the shot went off, more guns fired before Eliza's body even hit the ground. It went right through the heart, resulting in instant death, and Mrs. Monro crumpled into a holey heap soon after. The officer standing over Eliza swore under his breath. He attempted CPR, but it was hopeless, and the paramedic over Mrs. Monro had the same results. Both women were dead.

Falling. She was falling.

The world around her swirled with colors. At first, every color of the rainbow was flying by. Eventually, she saw a black hole rapidly approaching, and realization dawned on her. She knew exactly where she was going. The hole swallowed her, and spat her out over a city. She watched as the ground quickly rose to meet her, and closed her eyes. This was going to hurt. She remembered how in her dreams she would just conjure wings to save herself from such a painful landing. If only reality worked so-

WOOSH!

Suddenly she felt a sharp twinge in her back and no longer felt the wind rushing past her. Instead, all was momentarily still. She opened her eyes and realized she was hovering just above the ground, gliding very slowly. On either side of her were large, shadowy wings. Once her feet touched the ground, she turned her head to look at them only to watch them quickly retract into her back, relieving the muscles that had clenched.

"Fascinating," she whispered. Something to be explored later. For now, she needed to know about her surroundings. As she scanned the area in front of her, she spotted many telling signs. 'Welcome to Hell' was by far the most obvious, and yet the least surprising. She saw a giant glowing black sphere in the sky with a glowing pentagram on its face. "Must be the sun in this place." Behind it, however, was a bigger surprise. Much farther away, to the upper left of the sky from the black sun, was a glowing orb slightly blocked by clouds. It had a large white ring above it, resembling a halo. "Heaven."

Eliza turned to look behind her, and noticed she was standing behind a tall, rather chaotic looking building. When she walked to the front, she saw debris and eggshells scattered all over the ground, and a black mark signifying an explosion. Whatever mayhem happened here, it looks like it ended with a bang. She turned to look at the building again.

The wonky design was more appealing than she first thought. The bottom looked rather regal, but the chaos began the higher she looked. Atop the bottom floor, which was much larger around than the rest of the building, was a train on tracks that rose up as if upheaved, looking as though it had crashed into the tower to the left. Still looked very stable, so it was obviously just decoration, but it definitely looked chaotic. To the right was a ship sticking out of the building, looking as though it was pulled from the bottom of the sea as it was coated in rust and barnacles. Aside from those two oddities, the rest of the building looked very impressive, if a bit abandoned. At the top was a large eye looking down, seeming to stare at any guests that approach. And above that…

"Hazbin Hotel," she read aloud. She didn't have any money to stay, but perhaps she could sweet-talk some information out of someone. Though being in Hell, she knew it couldn't possibly be that easy… Could it?