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A view of Heaven from a seat in Hell

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A light blinded him, he was falling, his body was burning, he was not on fire but the pain was unimaginable, he felt how every nerve ached, it burned to the limit.
She watched the light fade away and a deathly air filled her lungs. He couldn't cry or scream, his throat was dry and a metallic taste invaded his windpipe. “He deserved it, he asked for it” He tried to convince himself as the end of that long fall was near


He woke up on a rocky ground, quite rough, had been injured and scraped a lot, with a heavy and hot atmosphere similar to being in a boiling cauldron. He was sweating quite a bit, although it didn't surprise him. What bothered him was an excruciating pain in his back, as if a thousand needles were constantly being driven and thrust into his flesh, unable to move and most likely due to the pain, he lost consciousness.

He woke up again when he felt some vibrations on the floor, he heard a few steps coming closer. They were heavy and they approached slowly, however, they did not doubt, they were determined of their direction, he was going directly towards him.
When he was able to open his eyes, he could see feet, they had a black hue that faded to a reddish color, he was wearing thigh black pants and they wobbled slightly, his legs were toned and he was dragging his feet when walking, probably not to make too much noise. He was about 7 feet away and was approaching at a steady pace.

Looking up slowly, it reached his torso, he had scars filling his chest and parts of his arms, he was muscular and had the same shade of red, his arms were also toned, and his hands were fading to black as were his feet, it’s nails were long and pointed, they had a black coat on, some were not painted correcto tho.

He tried to move his head to look him face to face, however he couldn't, his neck hurt too much and he was in a very uncomfortable position to move.

However, the figure knelt in front of him with a deep breath, contrasting with his rough, raspy breathing.
When the position of the figure reached the perfect angle, in which he could see his face.

His eyes filled with horror, a feeling of extreme fear washed over him and tears began to form in the corners of his eyes.
He deserved it, if he had not spoken he would not have been taken to such a place, he had asked for it, he tried to say to himself while sobbing and streams of tears fell down his, now pale, cheeks.

His life in that paradise was perfect, he had his brothers and his father by his side, it was a peaceful and happy life in that now distant sky. As he remembered those moments, his sobs increased, producing the few groans that his dehydrated and bleeding throat allowed.

The terror stormed his gaze, he felt an aura of death around him, he had wanted to die, yes, but not like that, not before those bloody and unholy hands. He was not willing to die before that being, but he had no options, he was immobilized at his mercy, he was trembling, crying uncontrollably, he closed his eyes waiting for what God would give him.
The only thing he felt were two large arms embracing him, he felt how he rose from that dusty ground, he opened his eyes almost instantly, to meet the cause of his torment. He knew him, he knew who he was, but he hasn’t spoken to him, much less should he even look at him, but it was inevitable at that moment.

That being, whom he despised with his entire spirit, whom he had been taught to hate, to avoid at all costs, to hate with every millimeter of his being, held him firmly but with a softness that he had not known until that moment. Avoiding the source of his pain, possibly an injury, on his back.

His jawline was very defined and pointy and his eyes were the color of honey with tones of green and long lashes surrounding them, who knew what kind of atrocities were they witnesses of. His lips seemed to be stained with gloss or that’s what it looked like, his nose was pointy and it had a not very large curve in the Bridge, which made his nose go a little down, it gave him some sort of aesthetic. His skin as the same tone of red as the rest of his body. His hair was jet colored, and very long he had it pulled back, leaving space for his most prominent feature, two pointy horns in his forehead, one above each eyebrow, not very big in size though. Another thing he noticed, was that the man above him, that demon, had a smell, it was a terrifying, yet nice smell, an aroma he could only describe as if he wore the scent of blood and death as a perfume.

As the demon carried the him in his arms, he could feel every breath and every heartbeat, none of them tried to say a word, not any eye contact either, yet, he had the sudden feeling that he might be crushed by those arms, or killed without mercy in the moment they arrive the place the other was taking him to made him shiver, and the horror took over his body, but at the same time, he also felt some type warmth, as he wa never embraced like that. Not that he liked it, he despised it, but he couldn’t fight, his body was not in the condition to do so, so all he could do was to stay still. But for him, seeing that face was blood curdling, it gave him chills, that being, his worst nightmare, Satan.