“Why?”
Hell is so much more than just eternal flames.
“The Bible says—”
You humans need to find a new book to quote, that one is rather old.
“If this really is Hell, why are you praying in front of an altar?”
God is my father too.
“You rebelled against your father.”
And you rebelled against your mother.
“She was hurting me.”
Now we understand each other.
“God was hurting you?”
You sound surprised.
“God is good.”
Not to me.
“But you’re praying to him…”
No,youare praying to him.
His head whipped around to face me, and I was met with familiar hazel eyes, matured around the edges. Sharp talons curled around my throat, choking me as smoke slithered into my lungs.
Wake up, Augustus.
***
I awoke in a hospital bed.
The room pulsed with the low hum of monitors and machinery, white walls blinding as I adjusted to the fluorescent lights. An IV drip pumped fluid into my veins, its steady flow harmonising with the symphony all around me.
An oxygen mask covered my face, lungs and throat screaming with every intake of breath.
Quiet snores drifted from the chair to my left, my unfocused gaze landing on my father. Dark circles bruised the skin beneath his eyes, brows furrowed and lips twitching in distress.
“Dad?” I called out, voice barely a whisper.
I coughed, glass shards stabbing into my throat. Tears threatened to fall as I swallowed through the burning sensation, the taste of smoke lingering on my parched tongue.
“Dad?”
His eyelids flew open, and he straightened in his seat within seconds. “Hey, buddy,” he said gently, “how are you feeling?”
“Throat. Hurts.”
Reaching for the cup beside my bed, my father removed my mask and raised the plastic to my lips, showering me with praise as the cool water trickled down my throat.
“What…happened?”
