Helga (unedited)

Chapter 10: Descension into Hell

‘Them rockers go inna gaol,’ said GPS. His actual name was Ge RuahSmoo, but due to the difficult pronunciation of his name, and his impeccable tracking abilities, he was nicknamed GPS. The rockers he was talking about were the orphans that were now ubiquitous in the town. Although I was much older than the youngest orphan and slightly older than the eldest, I tried my best and passed off as one of them.

‘You look much larger for a rocker,’ said GPS to me.

The others were bruised and looked as hungry as Hell, so before I slipped amongst them, I first beat myself up with a stone, throwing myself onto the ground a couple of times.

‘Sorry sir,’ I apologised. I didn’t want to talk too much.

What followed was him hitting me. He hit me worse than I had done to myself. I began to bleed internally, a broken rib, and concussion among my casualties. He had the fist of a bear, and the body of a kangaroo.

‘You know I otto shoot you now,’ he said, drawing his pistol.

I was rolling on the ground, my eyes barely making out his silhouette.

‘And what justice would that give you?’ asked another of Lerebs. This one was a woman.

‘It would give no justice at no all my laydee,’ said GPS. From what I could hear, he was fearful of the woman.  The way she spoke to him just assured one that she was in charge.

‘Pick yourself up rocker,’ she instructed me. I could feel her stare focused on me.

I was in a trance of groggy and could barely bring myself to my knees before I fell again. The taste of blood was bitter in my mouth. When I was down, I rolled my eyeballs upwards, only reaching her waist. 

‘Throw him in the van and take him to Hell,’ she instructed. The way she spoke was evidence that she’d grown bothered with my inability to get up. Her soldiers picked me up and threw me in. Although I was passing out by the second, numb all over, I could still feel the contrast between the warm gory ground I was lying on and the cold steel that was the floor of the van.  The floor was grainy, the van uncomfortable.

‘There are twelve vans,’ I heard one the children in the van with me say, ‘inside each van there are fifty children,’ he continued. That explained my discomfort. The ride as a whole was damned. We were crowded and had to step on each other just to get some air.

‘You look like crap,’ said a familiar voice from within the bodies that were compressed. It was a voice I loved; a nostalgic voice. It was mon amour, Ngi.

‘You reckon?’ I said, a grin forging on the corner of my swollen lips ‘cause I feel like it too.’

Ngi muscled her way through the bodies and her dirty hands found their way to my crappy gory face.

‘You’re hurt,’ she said ‘your eyes are swollen, nose broken, and well your lips ...’

She ran her hands all over my face as if that could real help. I sighed in pain. As I sat up, the van was running and hit one of many potholes, leading me to elevate high and really land on my ass.

‘You’d think for your last trip ever, they’d give you some comfort,’ I said, attempting to lighten the mood. She didn’t laugh, but some of the children did; keeping my pride intact.

‘What happened to you?’ I asked of her.

The question was necessary but not opportune.

‘They came in and killed my dad. Four bullets pumped in his chest and three to his head. When my mother and I heard the commotion we were terrified and attempted to escape through the bathroom window, but that where it got worse. They found us, tied us up with the shower curtains, and raped us in front of each other,’ she said in pain ‘I remember looking into my mother’s eyes crying that it stop but it didn’t. I felt numb to the rape but the pain in my mother’s eyes, the trauma, was scarring. How could a mother be expected to witness such a heinous act happen to her daughter?’ she continued ‘when my two year old brother walked in, that’s when the end for them came. They shot him clean through the eyes, the casing tapping my horrified mother’s right leg. At last, they finished her, a knife to the heart...’ she stopped and sobbed in a melancholia and depression.

My spirit momentarily left me. When I left them, did all of this happen. I felt like a punk, a coward, a little girl. There was no forgiving me.

‘My commiserations,’ said I.

In an episode of hot rage she snapped, ‘Screw you and your commiserations!  Misery is the damn root and how dare you feel miserable when you don’t even know how it feels?’ she carried on ‘You’re just like that thing that left us.’

She was right; I was just like that thing that left. My absence was their betrayal and crucifixion.

The time that remained leading to Hell was barren of our voices. The night sky fell on us and that is when we knew that eternal darkness had already begun.  We reached a place called ‘Hell’s Gate’. The place was desolate and looked like the type of place which inspires horror movies. Cold wind caressed our skins through the darkness. Wolves could be heard. The gate itself was large, barb-wired, and corroded. A sign which read ‘Welcome to the Hell’s Gate: A place of no return’ hung askew on the fence that connected to the Gate.

Just when we thought that it couldn’t get any worse, an old man emerged from the darkness right in front of the light from the van. He looked ancient and wrong. His teeth were brown gold, his eyes grey, skin shrivelled, and he had the longest nails possible. His one toe had a leg so long that it stuck out from his boot.

‘Krrgghgheheh,’ began the man dressed in a decaying black trenchcoat, ‘Welcome to Hell! I am Hades, Hell’s keeper,’ he continued, ‘Once I lock you in there, you shall never come back,’ he laughed. ‘I first came here when I was three and now I am two-hundred and still going strong.’ The man looked wrong and sounded uneasy.

‘Get out you rockers!’ said Hades ‘Daddy has a hot surprise for you!’

We were then shackled to each other and marked.

‘The mark, my precious children, is to prove that you are my property,’ continued that uneasy voice ‘You are now...Hell-bound!’