Soul Switched

i. all тнe good gιrlѕ go тo нell

When one dies, where do they go? Nearly every culture in human history has believed in some sort of afterlife, and it is not a coincidence. Many probably picture the stage of crossing over as a beautiful thing—the idea of resting in peace serving merely as a comfort in death.

That's all it really is, though. Just plain death.

This story could go on to describe how grand of a welcome one receives to pass on through the pearly white gates to eternal paradise after living a long, meaningful life. But the tale to this side of the afterlife does not take place in such a fantasy, so we will never know what that ideal paradise is like.

No, not by a long shot.

What we do know, is that the entrance to Hell is not anywhere significant in the slightest, and that on the full moon of Friday, October the thirteenth of 2000, Charlotte Magnes was going to find that out first hand.

Her awakening was sudden and anything but ceremonious. Whether the drop or the awareness came first, she did not know. Charlotte finally made her first movements in the pile of rubble she so ungraciously laid face first in. Nothing but an ear piercing ring could be heard as she struggled to lift her head, propping herself up weakly with shaky limbs. The world was on fire, and the sky was a deep bloody red. The alarming sight accompanied with the flavor of heavy, rich iron in her mouth made her sick to the stomach.

'What's going on? Where am I? How did I get here?'

Charlotte clutched her pounding head as she tried to concentrate, but the tinnitus and blurred vision prevented it. She could not remember. She managed to stumble to her feet deliriously just as the sounds of muffled and distorted screams entered her ears. Her red pencil skirt was torn along the hem, her blonde hair was tangled and wild, nor did she have shoes.

That was when panic set in. Charlotte began to creep along the smoke stained brick along the alleyway she appeared to be in, hyperventilating at the sight of guns being fired, grenades being thrown, and knives being swung. She froze with a jolt as blood spattered across her entire torso. The droplets dotting her tongue even gave her a taste.

The poor damsel would not have been able to explain it no matter how much she wanted to, but before she knew it, the blonde was thrown face first into the side of the burning, brick building. Her hands were pinned on each side of her face against the wall as tears streamed endlessly from her stinging eyes.

"Please, just tell me where I am!" Charlotte sobbed. Every time she was answered, she only asked again. The three thugs behind her searched her pockets with loud snickers, but to no avail. "Fuck! You said she'd have goods dressed like that!"

"Who cares? She's really cute...Valentino could always use another whore for his shows," another demon cackled. "Gag her."

Charlotte kicked and screamed as one of the goons yanked her back by the hair before roughly attempting to knot her hands behind her. "No, please! Let me go!!" She cried. "I'll do anything!!"

"Damn right, you will."

A hand struck her cheek to shut her up. A bloody gash was left from a ring the thug had on his finger. "Shut up, you stupid bitch."

"I don't believe that's any way to treat a lady, now, is it?"

The group's chuckles were silenced as an ominous tension fell upon them. Charlotte's attackers went pale at the sight of a harmless looking demon with a chipper smile, but his demeanor was anything but. She shivered at the mysterious presence of the random bystander; he was dressed from head to toe in scarlet red with formal attire. His striped coat was tattered at the ends, and a clean, tinted monocle rested below one of his glowing eyes that were darkening blacker by the second.