Obedemah's Wrath

no. i

I felt every bit of what they made me endure. I suffered in hell for so long, seeing the light feels weird. It's so bright, almost how bright my wings used to be. Oh God, what do I look like now? Corruption took over me years ago; it would only be right to see its progression.

I peered into the nearest lake. A foggy image of myself swirled in and out of focus. My face and arms were covered in scars, my clothes were torn, and my eyes were weary. I was having trouble standing, and it showed. My body swayed back and forth.

Needing to eat something, I frantically searched for an animal. A fish, a bird, anything. I'd take anything. I finally stumbled upon a river totally inhabited by fish. Heating up my hands, I plunged them desperately into the water and watched it boil. Only one fish died, floating up to the top with scales burning off of its body.

I smiled and downed the fish in a couple of bites. With enough strength to move on again, I spread out my pitch black wings and kicked off the ground. I couldn't avoid the panic in my heart.

Being an escaped prisoner of hell, and prisoner of Death himself, there were always patrols of angels waiting to capture us escapees. There was only one angel I was afraid of, and his name was Alan. Literally my better half. When I started to corrupt, he split from me and evacuated my home base. Because I was a seraph, I was too "physically unstable" to be around. So, I was left alone.

But now, it's different. Being alone isn't a choice any longer, it's a deep longing in my heart for a chance to escape from all I've been through. Solitude is no longer an enemy, it's a friend, and a dear one at that.

My mind started to race as I continued to fly. My heart followed suit, then my wings, and finally my body. Before I knew it, I was soaring through the air, soaring without a care in the world. Nobody was around to stop me, so I let myself go wild. From the sudden rush of adrenaline, my hands caught fire and I started skyrocketing up. I hadn't felt that free in so long. I yelled, screamed, and cried with joy. I was free.

Then, I woke up.

Death's main prison walls, the bloodstained, torn down brick walls, and the dirty concrete floors made me want to be sick. I hated this place with all of my eighteen-foot being. I hated to admit it, but at that moment, I wanted Alan right there by my side. I wanted him close to me. I wanted his comforting voice, his solemn eyes, his reassuring presence. I wanted it all; I had none of it. The doors opened and closed quite quickly, and there was the shuffling of footsteps. Someone had entered the room. An eerie glow lit up the room from the torch in his hand. Bindings attached to my wrists and wings and I was pulled forward.

"It's your turn, Obedemah..."

My turn? My turn for what?

A sharp, prominent pain hit me in the side and I keeled over. My wrists were being held and I was being dragged by someone, or something. Images flickered in my mind of what I'd already been forced through, and then it hit me. Torture. It was my turn for torture.

I broke.

I yelled, screaming for something, for someone. I cried. I cried like I'd watched a loved one die, like I'd watched Alan die. Oh God, Alan...where was he now? The poor fool's probably out searching for me, but not in that way. He's probably searching for me to kill me. To put the last extent of his suffering to rest.

But that was about to happen for him. The torture rooms of Hell were completely different from the rehabilitation centers of Heaven; the difference was drastic. In Heaven, there were only a few elemental chambers and a shocker, where you get struck with lightning to clear your head. Hell, on the other hand, was literally its name. Hell. From guillotines to machines that ripped your wings off tendon by tendon, muscle by muscle, to being straitjacketed down to a table and torn apart limb by limb, it was the literal embodiment of what anybody would call hell: eternal torture.