Hell is Real

Chapter 13

The school was always the same. Beaten down walls, graffiti-filled bathrooms, the smell of textbooks heavy in the air. All the class was missing besides the differents. They all questioned why. The teacher didn't teach. He had known for awhile that it was hopeless.

There were new sets of graffiti on the classroom walls. "YOU HAVE CHANGED" the graffiti accuses, white block letters on blood-red bricks. How did they know?

The walks to the coal mines were almost too cold, the sittings by the lake were longer each time. The mills were louder, the fog was thicker. When were things ever going to change?

The time passes so quickly yet so slowly. It's been a week, it's been months, it's been years. Nobody ages. The children don't grow up. You start forgetting everything about your life before. You live here. You've always lived here.

Nobody ages. nobody ages. nobody ages. What year is it?

They had long since forgotten. The date wasn't on the chalkboard, they didn't date their papers. There was no date. There was no year. Nothing, nothing.

Nothing.

They have been here for a couple of weeks, or maybe for decades. nothing changes. They can't die. They can't die. They can't die.

There is a daycare down the road from the school. The children are shouting. The children never arrive or leave, but sometimes they are quieter. The shouting leaks through the open windows, disrupts Percy's vision of the lake, disrupts the fire in Leo's soul. It unnerves them, unnerves their teacher. The teacher simply says "Turn the page".

They still can't read the textbook, but they turn the page anyways. They've been turning pages all day.

Winter, you pray for summer. Every winter is colder than the last. There is no remembrance of being warm. The snow is 4 feet deep and the trek home from school takes the life from your bones. The winter air sucks the life from you. Your hands are never warm. You can feel the bones in yours legs grind together as you flee for shelter. It's physically impossible to put on more layers.

As Nico walked home, he noticed the Christmas decorations up. Percy noticed, Leo noticed, they all noticed. But they didn't speak, they didn't notice each other. The neighbors' houses are brightly lit enough to be seen from space. One of them sets up a vast inflatable Santa. They can hear the Santa laughing when they pass by, and remember that Santa is an anagram of Satan.

Nico walked past the mines again, for the first time in weeks. He could still hear canaries deep inside chittering and chattering. When he looked inside, he saw nothing but black coated feathers. Maybe another day.

Percy walked home, a different path from Nico and the mines, a different path from Leo and the mills. He walked by the fishermen, the ones that never dared touch the water with their bare skin. They went out with blindfolds, they came back with what they called fish. Sometimes they don't go back on the water for a long time afterward. When Percy asked, they don't say a word. They never say a word. Their blindfolds cover their eyes. Maybe they never had eyes.

That night, Percy makes a promise. As soon as that lake freezes, he'll cross it. He'll cross it this winter.