Hell

I lie on the cold, hard floor of my cell and stare up at the dirty ceiling. A small drip of water drops onto my forehead and I brush it away, seeing the grime that transfers from my forehead to my finger. I wonder just how long I have been trapped here. More than that, I wonder why I was being kept here. I had been given water to drink and one small piece of mouldy bread but it was nowhere near enough to keep me healthy and my body was weak and frail. My hip bones stick out from my skin, my breasts are limp and small and when I touch my face it feels gaunt. I was wearing my normal jeans and a t-shirt but they were reduced to mere rags after spending so much time in this godforsaken cell. I dreaded to even think about the state of my shoulder-length blonde hair. It must have been dreadful.

My normal heated skin was cold and lifeless. It felt like wax, hard but greasy.

I couldn't hear my heartbeat. I was dead.

This couldn't be heaven. It had to be hell. What did I do to end up here?

I think you know.

The voice in my head makes me cry. I must be crazy. How can I be dead? I must be in some sort of mental institution for the unstable. I was hearing voices in my head, for god sake.

And then I remembered. It breaks me, kills me from the inside out. If I had any doubt as to my death before it was gone now. How could I live through what I did?

I killed my friend, my sister, my father, my mother, my dog and then I killed myself.

I deserve to live in hell. I doubt anyone deserves it more than I. Afterall, what's worse than killing a soul?