In Hell, an argument similar and dissimilar on many levels to the one that had occurred at Hogwarts was going on.
"You left me," intoned Heathcliff, "You left me. Damn you, Cathy, you left me alone! I would never have abandoned you!"
"You deserved it," yawned Cathy, thoroughly bored with both her soul mate and the fire and brimstone that surrounded her.
"How did I deserve it? Cathy, tell me that much! How did I deserve to have you leave me? I always loved you! Ever since we were young and you would mock me, and your brother would beat me to the ground! I always loved you unconditionally, despite your abuse, but it was not enough for you to mock and degrade me, or have your brother physically abuse me… you had to leave me! How did I deserve it? Why Cathy, oh why?"
Two hundred, even as recently as one hundred and fifty, years ago, when the argument was still relatively new, one of the poor, lost souls around them would have laughed loudly and vulgarly and shouted, "HEY MAN, OF COURSE YOU LET HER ABUSE YOU! SOME LIKE IT ROUGH!" or "BITCH LEFT YOU, YO!" and then of course a massive Hell-wide chant would have gone up, "Slap her, slap her, slap her, slap her, slap her, slap her!" And Heathcliff would, a resounding slap that left welts that hadn't even begun to fade by the next hour, when it all happened again.
And so it was destined to continue for all eternity, but without the participation of the other damned souls, for they had long since tired of the game. Heathcliff had learned to carry on without prompting.
"It's because you love Edgar, isn't it? Isn't it Cathy? Edgar the Effeminate commands your love, more than I who have suffered for it? You love Edgar more than me, damned wench?" he would growl, finishing the rant roaring, hand positioned to slap, sides heaving with passion, anger, unfulfilled love, and all that other muck that no one really gives a shit about on earth, much less in Hell.
"No Heathcliff, no!" Cathy would shriek, "I love you! You! Only you! Well… except for when I love Edgar… but it's mostly you! Even though I married him, it was always you whom I loved!"
"GRAAAAAAARRRRRRGGGHHH!!!" Heathcliff would roar insensibly, finishing with his hand making contact with Catherine Earnshaw-Linton's face with a sound that echoed throughout Hell. And Cathy would fall to the fiery ground and cry. And in the old days, the other lost souls would cheer. And Heathcliff would continue to stand, watching Cathy with guarded anger, black eyes flashing, sides still heaving.
By now, however, the other souls would groan, or shout at them to shut up, and on this particular day, at this particular hour, Satan happened to be strolling past. He had seen the scene many times before, but today it was just too much.
Satan, the Prince of Darkness himself, broke down in tears.
Now, contrary to popular Christian belief, neither Heaven nor Hell existed from the beginning of time, at least not with any relevance to mankind. God dwelt in Heaven with the cherubim and seraphim, coincidentally none of who resembled fat, rosy, naked babies. Satan dwelt in Hell. All of mankind's souls dwelt in Purgatory. And so it was until the Gates of Heaven were opened, and then nearly everyone went there.
Heaven has existed for 2003 years.
Hell has existed for 201.
Hell did not formally open for business until 1802 AD, upon the death of Heathcliff Heathcliff of Wuthering Heights. Hell is a place of eternal torment, and they couldn't get the party started without him.
(A Disclaimer So That We Can Start a Tradition: I don't own Heathcliff and Cathy. That's more of a personal choice thing. I'm sure whatever obscure relative of Emily Brontë who owns them now would be all too happy to get rid of them. I don't own the Bible either. No, no… that's not necessarily true. I do own the Bible, and I have to bring it to all my Jesus classes, but I can't really make Hell have been created in 1802… even if that is a pretty divinely inspired idea!)
