When the pig’s focus landed on me, I confidently said, “Tonkitgrol.” With that name, I could still go by Kit.
The pig wrote my name on a clipboard they held and moved on to the next person. When everyone had gone, the pig said, “All right. Next item on the agenda: the tour.”
The group stood and let the pig lead the way out large double doors and down a hallway lined with flaming torches and tapestry. This section of Hell had the air of a haunted medieval castle, though I was unsure of whether or not that was the goal. I was always expecting suits of armor to line the hallways.
As we walked, the pig talked. “Now today, we’re going to be exploring all of the sections of Hell to give you an idea of what kind of career you can strive for. You will start on the surface level, causing general grievances to humans—anything you want to do to them is fair game. However, if you show promise, we may recruit you to another department. It could be Deals, Torture, or even as a guard to Hell’s leaders.”
The pig, shuffling on two legs, rounded the corner and showed us into a large room that greatly resembled a modern office—if a modern office was lit by streams of fire in the floor and had desks separated by stone walls instead of cubicles.Multiple demons of different shapes and appearances were littered around the office, drawing up paperwork, making sales calls with corded phones and cauldrons, and packing briefcases and human leather sacks for trips to the surface.
“We don’t want to interrupt the team, but the Deals department is great for bringing in business we might not have received without them.”
The mention of Deals made me flinch, but I shoved that feeling away. It’d been centuries since I’d interacted with a Deals demon. Since I ruined my life.
The pig led us away from Deals and walked us through what they dubbed asSection AofAthroughZ. The pig explained that this was where they kept most of the “newly acquired souls” before they determined where they’d spend eternity. General torture, advanced torture, psychological torture, etcetera. We walked past prison cells, small rooms barred from the hallway with black iron posts, rusting and appearing nearly acidic. We passed several empty cells before we came to an occupied one. A man was shoved into the corner of the cell, his knees up to his chest and arms wrapped around them, rocking back and forth, banging his head violently against the back wall with each rock. I jerked away, even though this was not a new kind of scene for me. It may have been common, but it never got easier.
We walked past another taken cell. This new arrival was just sitting there, and he looked thoroughly tortured. I pitied his soul for when he found out what true torture was.
My vision went blurry as my breathing became shallow, buzzing thoughts taking control.
Wait. Not mine. Lacy’s.
twelve
. . .
Present Day
Kit’s voice breaks in,the scene before me fading to black. “Lacy. Lacy, breathe. You’re causing your body to hyperventilate. I’ve got you breathing into a paper bag, but I can’t get you to stop. I need you to calm down in here.”
I want to listen to him, but I can’t. I know I’m back in my void, but I still see Hell. My hands shake as my vision goes blurry. I did not sign up to see anyone tortured, though what did I think I would see down there? That was literal, actual Hell. Oh my god, why was I in literal, actual Hell?
Oh god. All of this shouldnotbe happening. I should be at work! I should be in the bookstore where I work, talking to annoying customers who don’t understand that we cannot resell their books if they are covered in mold! I should be searching for books for customers who don’t know anything but the color of the cover! I should be taking a little too long to shelve books when I need a moment of peace. I should be anywhere but here.
Suddenly, Kit appears before me in the darkness, sitting crossed-legged on my bed, in the same host he was using in the memory. I focus on his eyes—the only part of him that seems familiar. They’re the type of blue eyes that are so dark they’re basically navy. This host is young—late twenties at the oldest. The corners of his eyes have lines from smiling, though he seems far too young for that, and his jaw is decorated with a small amount of stubble.
Gently grabbing my face in his hands, he says, “In,” his chest lifting, and, “Out,” his chest dropping. I keep breathing rapidly. He repeats these instructions until I follow him. We breathe together as I stare into those comforting eyes. Eventually, my thoughts begin moving in a linear progression again. He drops his hands and fades away, leaving only an impression of himself on the comforter.
His rough voice comes from nowhere, like it usually does. “Was that too much? I’m sorry.”
I tighten my arms around my knees, staying under the covers where I feel safer. The guilt in his tone is surprising. “No, I am. I don’t know what I was expecting. I heard them mention torture, and then I started to freak out, because I didn’t want to see any torture.”
“I would have cut the torture bits out.”
“Oh. Sorry.” My cheeks burn red in embarrassment.
“Don’t apologize. I should have explained before. Maybe you should get some rest.” He waits a beat before suggesting, “Or, are there any movies you’ve been wanting to watch that aren’t on streaming services? I know the best illegal sites to watch movies.”
The corner of my mouth perks in an attempted smile. “Not any in particular, but if there are any that you want to watch, I might stop by my window later.”
“Okay,” he says. He’s quiet after that.
I wanderaround my void for a while, but it’s easy to get bored when there is nothing in here besides my bed, my chair, and my window. I go back to the window, expecting to see Kit watching a movie like he said, but we’re in a car. With a quick glance at the charm hanging from the rearview mirror (a duck on a swing gifted to me by August), I determine it’s my car. Good. No stolen vehicles today.
I decide to watch what he’s up to in silence. Hopefully no more clubs. It’s still light out, but I’m not sure that would deter him.
Kit pulls into the parking lot of a strip mall. This strip mall has a liquor store, an abandoned Party City, a Michael’s, a nail salon, and a dance studio. I assume he’s heading for the liquor store, however he parks in front of Michael’s. I still doubt that this is his intended destination until he gets out of the car and heads straight for it.
Demon in a craft store. There has to be a joke in there.
