Rock Bottom

Rule #1: No One Can Hear You

"As I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep. And if I die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take."

Often times, religion, no matter which one, is speculated. As you hear tales as old as time, and even articles across the internet, there is rarely something of solid proof relating to a god, or heaven in general, and you never truly know until you're dead. There's many theories, such as ones that say there is no afterlife, or you go into means of arbitration while the gods view your life and debate whether you should go right or left. The biggest arguments against religion tend to be that angels or the Man Himself, has never shown their faces, and let children die every day from cancer. Though words for religion state that there's no scientific evidence of anything paranormal, yet most people believe in that, or that miracles do happen, but people's greed gets in the way first and blindsides them.

However, one thing that has less controversy, is the existence of hell and Satan himself. A few people may say that we're all already in hell, but others believe in other dimensions. This is because demons and the Devil have shown themselves more than God, whether it be through possession, communication methods, or merely your generic haunted house. Nobody would like to believe hell exists except liars, but evidence always soaks into the brains of even the most pure souls. Sometimes people blame the evil in humans as the Devil's work, but that can lead to an even bigger debate. There's always another argument.

Warm hues beamed through the car window onto Danielle's thighs as she played on her phone. She was in the passenger seat, while her mother drove through the quickly approaching sunset. People often said they looked so much alike, but her mother never saw that. Danielle had shoulder-length deep burgundy hair with purple undertones, due to dye over dirty dishwater hair. Her eyes were icy blue with deep ocean flecks, something she got from her grandfather, as her mother had green eyes, and her father's were hazel. Her mother's hair was much more curly since she had Danielle, according to her mother. Her mother was truly beautiful, and she often blamed fists and falls on her scars and dents; though that may be true, most of it was really just torn apart by overwhelming stress, a permanent frown, and a smoking habit she picked up at sixteen.

As they grew closer to town, the sun had gone down much further, and it was getting darker out. A sharp gasp escaped her mother's lips as she slammed on the brakes, avoiding hitting a tractor that pulled out in front of her. Danielle looked up and grinned. "Only in Redneck City, huh?" Her mother breathed a sigh of relief and smiled, nodding as she passed the big machinery. Danielle glanced up at the driver, a man so old he seemed close to death. He was wrinkled and grey and honestly looked like a skeleton with a thin layer of flesh still decently connected. She averted her eyes as they pulled into the nearest gas station, the bright lights highlighting the pumps through the dark. Her mom tossed her sunglasses into the center console and reached for the door handle, but stopped, eyes fixated on the rearview mirror. Danielle watched her mom in confusion and deep concern. Ever since she was little, nothing scared her more than suspense others brought. The second Danielle peered over her shoulders she saw what she immediately thought to be the devil himself. However, it was a man dressed in all black with his hood up, rushing up to the car at impeccable speed.

"Mom, go!" Danielle screamed, voice cracking in fear. A loud crash violated her eardrums as a baseball bat was thrown into the back window. This slapped her mother out of it and convinced her foot to slam on the accelerator, speeding forward. She rushed to the side of the building, which was fairly distant, and slammed into Danielle's shoulder, giving her a heavy shove.

"Go! Run, run!"

"But-" She was interrupted by the man yanking open her mother's door. Danielle drained of color and pure dread filled her core. Tears filled her eyes and she listened, bolting out her door and away from the car. Not once did she look back, not wanting to see any more than she already had. She ran and ran down the dark street until her lungs couldn't take anymore. She always had weak lungs since birth when one of them burst. She was a safe distance away, so she allowed her legs to give out. She collided to the curb, feeling the cold cement through her tattered black shorts. She wheezed and struggled, vision blurry. Black sneakers covered her feet and a faded t-shirt on her torso.

When Danielle finally got the chance to catch her breath, tears began to roll down her cheeks, lips tugging back to a clenched jaw. Small squeaks left her throat as she cried softly. She had never truly trusted in whatever deity watched over her, if there even was one, but she prayed her mother was okay. She was the only person she had left and she couldn't stand to lose her. So, much like how she handles every other bad situation, she pretended everything was okay, and sunk into her happy place.