Angel sat on a white bench in a tiny room illuminated by bright, incandescent lights. The lights were so bright that he swore that he could feel his retinas melting. Still, the burning feeling in his eyes was no match for the pain he felt when he closed them. It was a heart wrenching pain summoned by the depths of his soul. The soul that now was torturing his mind by replaying special moments of his demon’s torment of his friends. These moments were non-stop visions whenever he closed his eyes.
The memories had come back to him, slowly at first and then like a freight train in the end. The horrible visions overwhelmed him and every ounce of his being grieved for his newer atrocities. Angel had wondered if Hell was like this for everyone. Alone, isolated in his bright, white place, he thought that being imprisoned with his soul and his memories for eternity probably was a hell tailored perfectly for him. No amount of physical pain or torture could be more agonizing than his remorse and self-hatred.
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