“I can show you the nether region, if you want,” Kit says after the next episode ends.
My brow furrows at that offer. “You better mean Hell.”
He chuckles. “Yeah, I mean Hell.”
“I thought you didn’t want to go back?”
He prevents the next episode from starting. “Oh, I never plan on stepping foot there again. I didn’t mean in person. I meant in a memory.” He clicks his tongue. “You think I’m going to take you down there? Yeah, right. Way too dangerous. For both of us.”
“I don’t know…”
“You don’t have to say yes. I was just thinking it isn’t fair that I get to see your memories, but you don’t get to see any of mine.” He takes a breath. “I’m sorry about August.”
“Me, too.” I have no desire to speak about August with him. She is mine, not his.
“So, what do you think?”
I’m not sure I want to see Hell, but what kind of paranormal investigator would I be if I turned down the opportunity to experience a real afterlife while alive? Also, what else am I doing? “Sure. Show me Hell,” I say timidly.
“Okay, cool.” He turns off the TV before suggesting, “Maybe it would be best if you got into your bed for this. More comfortable environment for a scary memory.”
He can see what I can see in my void? Fascinating. So, if I create a bunch of signs that say,kit can kiss my ass, ornot kit’s number one fan, or something more creative, he would see them.
“All right,” I agree.
Overly conscious of my movements now that I know he’s watching me in here, I walk back over to my bed and sit with my knees up to my chest. I feel like I’m in a fish tank.
“I’m ready.”
“Me, too.”
kit
. . .
Four Years Ago
“Welcome, everyone. Please take your seats,”said a pig at the front of the room. Yes, an actual pot-bellied pig. They stood on their back two hooves, wearing brown slacks and a white button-down with the top two buttons undone. Their voice was deeper and less squealy than one would expect—and contained an alarming lack of heavy snorting.
The room we were guided to was lined with dark stone walls and dark stone floors, lit dimly by burning lanterns adorning the walls. A few rows of plastic folding chairs were set up, facing where the pig stood.
The other souls took their seats as I did, the chairs squeaking in response. As I attempted to make a chair designed to be uncomfortable comfortable, I caught my reflection in the large black video screen at the front of the room, raven-dark hair and blue eyes staring back at me. I wasn’t sure why I expected torecognize this man in my reflection. He was not me.
Everyone around me appeared human, except for the pig, though I knew that was not true. We hadn’t been brought to this room as damned human souls—we’d been brought here as demons. New recruits. Everyone around me was excreting anxiety, shifting in their seats and twiddling their thumbs. It wasn’t helping me to keep my own cool.
The pig continued, “Now, this is a fairly large batch of you we have here today. I have to be honest, not all of you will make it. You’ll either continue the rest of your existence as a demon, or fade away into nothingness by the end of this orientation. Understood?”
Most of the others nodded, me included, but a timid one near the front raised her hand. “I’d rather not fade away into nothingness. Can I go back to being a tortured soul?”
The pig snorted through their large nose. “Most would argue that nothingness is the better option. And no. You may not. Your soul has been forever corrupted. There is no way to reverse the demonification process. Now, please sit back and enjoy this three-hour orientation video.”
The TV switched on, displaying in Comic Sans,so, you want to be a demon?
I grumbled to myself, crossing my arms and sliding down in my chair, back twinging in response. Just like the nether region to throw in a last-minute bit of torture.
When the video ended, the lights grew brighter as the pig stepped back up front. They cleared their throat. “Now, first things first. Names. This is your chance to choose a new one.I suggest you think carefully about this. No one takes a demon named Peter seriously.”
There were collective light chuckles around the room. One by one, the others stated their names (Halificious, Gronkite, Leonard), as I waited for my turn. I’d had my name picked out for a while—something I thought of soon after I received the offer to become a demon. The offer to never be tortured again.
