Murder
After a long pause and several deep breaths, you open your eyes.
The familiar feelings of anxiety come upon you. But you're not backing down this time. All the dreaming of feeling alive again, all the hatred, waiting to get revenge, it all ends tonight.
You repeat to yourself, "You can do this, Ben. You can do this."
It's not cold, but you're freezing. No wonder they call people like you cold-blooded. Chills shoot down your spine. You shake and shiver, but nothing seems to help. Your mind races and finds millions of reasons not to go through with this, but they aren't powerful enough.
Your shaky left hand grabs the car door handle, your right one grabs the knife. You're not a coward. You would never use a gun. Where is the thrill in the hunt with that?
You get out of the car and all you can hear is the roaring sound of crickets and the occasional far away car. You gaze upon the rocky hill in front of you beautifully lit by the ominous moonlight. You trudge up the hill and peek down at the glowing fire. Stacy and her fiance are down there. You hear him asking if she'd like any more beer. He is about to head out to the nearby convenience store. The reality comes upon you that the moment might be coming faster than you expected.
In your nervousness, even your thoughts are shaky. You tell yourself over and over again why you are doing this. If it wasn't for her making you look like a fool in the seventh grade when you asked her out in front of the entire school, if it wasn't for her guy and girl friends making fun of you every single day through high school, and if it wasn't for her getting engaged to the bully that made you try to kill yourself, you wouldn't be here right now.
His car leaves. It is time. And almost all too easy. You start down the rocky hill. Your heart feels as if it could leap out of your chest. Your cold sweats coat your entire body. Your mouth completely dries up and your mind screams at you to end it. Stacy, that horrible name needs to be gone. She needs to die.
When you close your distance, you sprint up to her. She is lying on her back with her eyes closed. You pounce on her, pinning her arms down with your knees, grab her by the throat, and stab her in the chest. Her eyes shoot open and her body convulses intensely. She lets out the most terrible scream you have ever heard in your entire life. Tears stream down her face as she sees it is you. You stab her in the neck. You stab her in the chest again and again until all motion stops.
In the dead silence, you are not met with relief. You don't feel better. Your mind flies into a panic as you gaze upon the lifeless body. That is because of you. You did that. She had an entire life. She's done so many things. She grew up surrounded by family and friends that loved her. She was going to be a nurse. She loved children and dogs. She had really good days at school and other days that she wanted to run away and never come back. She had beautiful thoughts and feelings. Just like you. But look what you did to her. Is she your mind's manifestation of your own self?
The most intensely disgusting thoughts of regret, fear, and sadness imaginable burst through your mind. The damage can't be undone. And you now realize how foolish it was to believe there is no such thing as hell. Because you are in it, and have been there for a while. And while hell had become so familiar that it seemed normal, this level of hell is too intense for anyone to ignore.
The horrifying amount of blood on you is too much to bear. You scramble to your feet and see headlights coming. You sprint to the top of the hill and watch Stacy's fiance leap out of the car onto her lifeless body. Screaming intensely sorrowful but unintelligible words, he looks up at you, quickly recognizes you, and calls the police.
You jump in your cold, metal car and step on the gas pedal. You break through a fence to get onto the road. Sirens blare as several police cars come rushing from behind you. You go into a complete psychological breakdown. Every person in society thinks you should be locked up or killed. You destroyed a life and took a woman away from the man that loved her dearly. And you are the reason for all of this. And nobody deserved what you did to them.
You veer off the road as you accelerate faster. You ramp off but end up and you brace for landing as your car lands in a hot spring. You are hit with the rush of boiling hot water.
The worst pain imaginable soaks through your skin. You break your window and crawl into the boiling bath of water. A spotlight from the police hits you and you see your blood and Stacy's leaching out into the water and boiling. You crawl out of the boiling blood by climbing onto the roof of your car only to be shot by the police. You fall back, but fall through the water into a hole of infinite darkness.
You hear the whisper, "Wake up."
You are on your bed and see Virgil looking down at you.
Crying, you tell him, "Thank you so much."
He nods at you, saying, "Traveler, you can thank me by teaching others what I have taught you today. So many are so lost, and now you are in a special position to show them the way. Save the souls of your brothers and sisters."
You hug Virgil, and he vaporizes in your arms.
Author's Note:
In the original story, Dante led by Virgil down a rocky slope to the seventh circle of hell. They are met by centaurs (creatures that have a human upper body and a horse lower body), who are the guardians of this level of hell, armed with bows and spears. The level of hell that I focused on was the first ring in this seventh circle, where the spirits of those who were violent and murderous toward others are immersed in Phlegethon, a river of boiling blood and fire. The centaurs who are guarding the river are in charge of shooting arrows at any of the souls that try lifting their bodies from the boiling blood more than they are allowed. The level of immersion required depends on the severity of their sin. In my story, I kept the imagery of this hell alive with the rocky entrance to the sin committed, the hot spring that boiled Ben and the blood covering him, and the police that shot him when he tried getting out. While I certainly made a strong effort to keep the imagery accurate, my main focus as stated throughout the story book is to give readers a deeper insight to the psychological hell and torture that the sinful bring upon themselves in the real world. I made an effort to bring a greater sense of isolation in this story by having as little dialogue as possible. I also made an effort to show the delusional state those who commit these horrible acts are usually in when they do them. I really wanted to make this story in particular much longer than I am allowed for this project. I think the state that those who commit murder are put in is incredibly unique. I feel most would agree it is one of the most isolating, dehumanizing, repulsive acts a person can do, especially in a cold-blooded scenario such as this one.
Thank you for reading my story! I hope your experience was thought provoking and stimulating!