by Alina Ray
12814 University Club Dr #102
Tampa, FL 33612
Publisher’s Note
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the authors’ imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
The publisher has no control over and does not assume responsibility for any third party websites or their content. The uploading and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law.
Copyright © 2012 by Alina Ray
All rights reserved.
Cover art by ThinkSentient Ltd
ISBN-13: 978-1-62757-066-4
ISBN-10: 1-62757-066-7
Craig Peters didn't know where he was; all he knew was that it was dark. He could see nothing around him except for pitch black. He tentatively stuck out a foot, and it ran into a hard object, like a wall. The other foot yielded the same results. Rather than panic, Craig assumed that he was in some kind of dream.
Craig cocked a leg back and kicked the wall with all of his might, and then winced at the pain. Okay, maybe this wasn't a dream after all. He gave out a tentative, "Hello?" He cocked his head as his voice echoed back to him, but other than that, no sounds came. His hands felt around him, to see if he could find a door in the darkness, one that would lead him, well, anywhere else.
Panic started to rise in Craig's throat as he realized he was trapped. Was he going to suffocate? Where was he? Just as Craig was going to let out a yell, a path lit up on the floor in front of him. For a moment, Craig was confused; he had tested all of the corners of the darkness he had found himself in, and there had definitely been no place to go. His mind began to circle back around to the dream theory.
After being stuck in the dark, he was grateful for somewhere else to go. Besides, he reasoned, maybe there was some moral at the end of this dream, or nightmare, that he was supposed to learn out of all of this. So, he followed the path until the end.
What he saw when the path ended were three impossibly tall, burly men. They towered over Craig's six-foot frame and had more muscle tone to them than Craig had ever known existed. All three of them had red skin, and as they shifted on their spots, the skin rippled in an almost fire-like way. As Craig's eyes traveled upward, he noticed that they all had two short horns on the top of their heads, sticking out of their hair.
Two of them looked to be very old, with long, white hair and beards that almost touched the floor. The other one, in Craig's opinion, was kind of handsome. He was younger than the others; in fact, he didn't look much older than Craig's own twenty-three years. He had long black hair, coal-black eyes, and a short goatee.
A sudden pull on Craig's body startled him from his staring. An unnatural force was tugging on Craig, giving him no choice but to follow. He was dragged before the trio. The three humans—or creatures, Craig wasn't sure which—looked him over. Craig tried to take a step back, suddenly intimidated by the weight of their gaze. He tried to will himself to wake up, but that didn't work, either. He let out an audible sigh when he realized he was trapped.
The three stared at him for what felt like an eternity. Craig could tell just by looking at them that they were having a silent conversation. It was subtle, but every once in a while, one would cock his head toward Craig or the other two. It felt like they were sizing him up, and trying to determine what would happen next. Finally, the man on the left—the handsome one—stood.
The man crooked a finger at Craig, giving him the signal that he was to follow. Craig had learned by now that there was no other choice and dutifully followed the strange man. They walked into the darkness; the only thing Craig could see was the back of this man. After a few moments, the man stopped, and finally a light flooded the space.
Craig took in his surroundings, and was surprised to see himself in something of an interrogation room. The walls were gray and non-descript. In the middle of the room sat a stool with a single light overhead. It was as if someone had seen every police movie and used every single cliché.
The man motioned for Craig to sit on the stool. It was a request that Craig quickly complied with, as he was eager to find out where he was and what was going on. By now, Craig fully believed that he was stuck in a dream and just wanted to find out where it led him.
The red man circled Craig twice before his rough, deep baritone filled the room. "What is your name?"
"Craig... Craig Peters. Who are you?" Craig answered.
"They call me Karawan, but I suspect my name will be of little importance to you. Do you know where you are?"
"No. In a dream of some kind. I must have had too many drinks tonight." Craig chuckled, and if the other man noticed, he gave no indication.
"I can assure you, this is no dream. Do you honestly not know what has happened?"
Craig searched his mind, trying to recall the past few days. He soon realized that he could recall nothing beyond waking up here in the dark, Defeated, Craig shook his head.. .
"You have expired," Karawan said simply.
Craig's head snapped up at this news. Dead? He couldn't understand it, but try as he might, the only thing he could remember about his former life was his own name. Well, he still knew stupid facts like television trivia and the good sports teams, but as far as his own life? It was all a blank. An irritating pain had begun to grow inside of his chest, almost like a slow heartburn.
"What? How? How did I die? What happened?" Craig sputtered out the questions as fast as he could think of them, but Karawan silenced him with a wave.
"Do you not think that 'how' is not the most important question right now? Do you think that perhaps, the 'where' might be a better question?" Karawan began to circle Craig once again.
Craig looked hard at his surroundings, remembering the darkness and the long line, the red tint of the skin of the men, and the pain in his chest. "I'm in Hell." It was barely a whisper, but Craig had no other answer. A quick look at Karawan's smirk told Craig that he was right.
"But, why? What did I do?" Craig asked.
"Ah, that is not for me to know," Karawan answered. "That is something that you must discover about yourself throughout your time here."
Craig slumped his shoulders. "I don't understand. How am I supposed to remember?"
"It will come in time. I'm sure you have noticed the nagging pain in your chest?" When Craig nodded, Karawan continued, "That is to serve as a constant reminder of where you have found yourself, and it will only increase until you have remembered and dealt with the choices that you have made while living. You will still feel any pain that will befall you. You need to feel remorse for what you have done, if you have any hope of achieving any kind of redemption for yourself."
With that, Craig perked up and he seized his opportunity. "I am truly sorry for anything that I have done." Suddenly, the stool that Craig was sitting on disappeared beneath him and he fell with a thud to the floor, hitting his head. The demon had been right; he could still feel pain.
Karawan laughed. "You are hardly the first to try that, nor, do I fear, will you be the last. You need to feel true remorse, and you cannot do that until you truly face what you have done. Only you can determine when you are ready for that. Until then, you belong to me." With those words, Karawan stalked out of the room. As he left, all of the lights turned off, leaving Craig once again in complete darkness.
Craig sat down, put his head in his hands, and closed his eyes. He couldn't believe that this was really happening. He tried everything he could think of to remember his life, but nothing worked. It was a complete and total blank, as if Craig had never existed in the first place.
Craig stayed in that
room for what felt like an extremely long time. It could have been hours, weeks, maybe even decades. Craig got the sense that time didn't really mean a whole lot down here. Just when Craig thought he couldn't stand the isolation any longer, Karawan returned.
"Get up" Karawan commanded, in a voice that left no room for argument. Craig hurried to comply and rose to his feet. Karawan chained Craig's wrists behind his back and added a short chain on his feet, just long enough for Craig to take short, quick steps. For the first time since he'd gotten here, Craig realized that he was naked.
At first, Craig didn't understand the need for the shackles; it wasn't as though he could outrun the demon. It soon dawned on him that this was part of the punishment for whatever crime he committed in his former life, that this demon was stripping him of his basic rights and freedoms.
As the final touch, Karawan attached a chain to Craig's neck and gave it a quick tug. Craig immediately understood that he was to follow Karawan and did so. Karawan led Craig down a long hallway, with what seemed like hundreds of doors. As they passed one of the doors, Craig heard the distinct sound of a man screaming, and it halted him in his tracks. What was he in for?
Craig didn't have long to think about what he had heard, as a quick tug from Karawan resumed their journey. Finally, the men stopped before a door that looked identical to every other, and Karawan pushed it open.
Craig wasn't sure was he expected to find, but what he saw still surprised him. The room looked like a medieval torture chamber. Chains hung from the ceiling, and the various pieces of furniture around the room were clearly designed to hold someone to them. There was a cross in the corner, a table pushed against one wall, and what looked to be stocks against another wall. If this had been designed to scare Craig, it worked. Before he had time to react, however, Karawan led Craig to the middle of the room and chained his arms above his head.
Acting out of reflex, Craig gave the chains a quick pull, even though he already suspected that it wouldn't do any good. Karawan walked over to the far wall and grabbed something that Craig couldn't see.
Karawan broke his silence as he made his way back to Craig. "Have you figured out what you are doing here?"
Craig closed his eyes and shook his head. "Apparently, I've done something wrong, but I just can't remember."
"Allow me to explain what is going to take place. You see, your time here will be of two parts. You are here for two explicit reasons. The first is punishment. Even if you cannot remember what you have done, and that is not uncommon, you must pay for the choices that you made while your heart was still beating. That is where I come in. As a demon of the Dark Lord, I am to administer your punishments while you are here." Karawan paused for a moment before he continued, "The second, as we have gone over, is remorse. Throughout your time here, you will start to receive clues and hints as to what your life was. It is entirely up to you what you choose to do with them. That part, I cannot help you with, as I do not know what you have done to belong here. Nor do I care to know."
Craig felt a small glimmer of hope. "Throughout my time? Does that mean that this isn't permanent? Do I have a chance to get out of here?"
Karawan held up a single bony finger to silence Craig. "In theory. I suppose we shall just have to wait and see how it goes."
Karawan held up what he had retrieved from the wall, and Craig could see that it was a whip. It was about six feet long and ended in a small point. Karawan raised it above his head and gave it a test flick. Craig recoiled at the loud crack that echoed off the walls. His eyes tried to find Karawan's looking for some kind of reassurance. Karawan met his gaze, but instead of finding encouragement, he found an expression he couldn't quite read. Bemusement, perhaps? Not finding what he was looking for, Craig lowered his head and closed his eyes, preparing for what was about to come.
Karawan took his time with Craig, as he did with all of his human subjects. By not administering the punishment right away, and instead cracking his whip into the air, it built more tension and anticipation. He had seen Craig's eyes pleading with him, but he did not care. His job was to punish the humans for their wrongdoings in their life, not to show them mercy.
Karawan again raised the whip over his head, this time bringing it down on Craig's back with another loud crack. Craig screamed at the pain, and that was all the incentive that Karawan needed to keep going. Karawan slashed at Craig's back, making beautiful welt marks. Over and over again, he mercilessly whipped Craig.
The whipping only stopped when the screams began to subside. After a while, Craig began to mumble incoherently, and Karawan knew that his job was done, for now. He had lost count of how many times he hit the helpless man, but it must have been well over fifty. Karawan walked around to Craig's front and could tell from the man's glassy expression that he was barely registering what had just happened to him.
As Karawan reached up to unhook Craig's arms from the ceiling, he noticed a disturbing sight. Craig was hard, and not just a little bit. The man's dick was as erect as it could be. For a moment, Karawan was confused, as he had never encountered this reaction before. He quickly shook his head and regained his focus; now was not the time to dwell on such things. Karawan slung Craig over his shoulder and walked him back into the dark room, where he deposited him like a sack of potatoes. Once again, he shut the door and left Craig alone with his own thoughts.
Pain radiated throughout Craig's entire body, and he shook and shuddered on the floor. As he tossed and turned, trying to find a comfortable position, Craig tried to clear his mind. He realized that he had grown hard as Karawan beat him, but he didn't understand why. Was it the beating itself? Or the attention that he was getting? Did Karawan turn him on?
Craig reached down and began to stroke himself as he replayed the events in his mind over and over again. He thought of Karawan and the way he looked as he held up the whip for Craig to take in. Craig thought about the beating itself: how badly it had hurt, and yet, how it oddly felt good at the same time.
Craig's hand tightened around his cock, and he jerked it a bit faster, making broad strokes up and down. His breathing started to shallow, and his body quivered. Sweat radiated from his forehead as his member twitched uncontrollably under his fist.
He knew that he was getting close, and he closed his eyes in anticipation. Craig stroked, pulled, and tugged at his cock with all of his might, but there was no climax forthcoming. Eventually, he gave up and slammed his hand on the floor.
Of course there wouldn't be a climax, he realized. That would mean that he got pleasure from something, and that clearly wasn't allowed to happen here in Hell.
Hell.
Craig tossed that word around in his mind. He was surprised by how dark Hell was. When he thought about the word, he pictured something red and fiery, with the Devil himself sitting on a throne of skulls. Instead, it was dark and isolating. The only person—if he was a person—with whom Craig had any contact was Karawan.
A loud bang interrupted Craig's thoughts, and he stood up, startled. He feverishly looked around to see where the noise had come from, but all he could see was black.
Another bang. This time it seemed to come from behind Craig, and he whirled around. Again, nothing was there. As more bangs resounded throughout the room, Craig curled into a ball on the floor. Slowly, it dawned on him that these bangs sounded familiar, that they were sounds he heard before. Maybe this was his first clue to his former life, he reasoned.
Craig closed his eyes as more bangs pierced through his thoughts. He realized that they were in a specific sequence; there were three quick bangs, silence, and then three more. Suddenly, the ache in Craig's chest grew as it dawned on him exactly what the sounds were. They weren't just ordinary bangs.
They were gunshots.
Karawan returned to Craig a short time later. At least, it seemed to be a short time, but it really could have been years, and Craig wouldn't have known the difference. "Get up, human," the demon snarled at him, and Craig hurried to comply.
/> Once again, Karawan shackled Craig's hands and feet and put the metal collar around his neck. The collar was attached to the leash that Karawan held. He gave it a quick tug, and Craig quickly followed.
Karawan didn't even look back once as he led Craig down the maze of doors, passing one room after the next. Finally, he stopped in front of one, opened it, and pulled Craig inside. Craig was dismayed to see something of a medical room. It was stark white, with a metal table in the middle and glass cabinets all around. Craig couldn't quite see what was in the cabinets, but he had a feeling that it wouldn't be good for him.
Before Craig had a chance to process where he was, Karawan undid his shackles and led him over to the table, where he forced him to lie face up. As soon as Craig felt the cold metal against his back, Karawan went to work, quickly strapping his wrists, feet, and head to the table. Craig was completely immobilized.
Craig heard Karawan rummaging through a nearby drawer, but he couldn't see what the demon was doing. Karawan returned to Craig's side. Without saying a word, he held up what was in his hand. Craig gasped when he realized it was a razor blade. And from the looks of it, it had seen better days. Rust covered the blade, and as Craig peered closer, he thought that he saw flecks of blood on there as well.
Craig couldn't take it anymore and cried out in protest. Unintelligible sounds came out of his mouth as he fought against his bonds. Of course, it did no good, and he was forced to stay exactly as he was.
Karawan circled Craig, and then started to drag the blade across Craig's skin. Karawan dug in, so that the blade would penetrate the skin and cause the human to bleed. Every time the blade touched Craig's skin, he felt as though his skin was on fire. Craig screamed at the touch and tried to flinch away, but nothing worked.
It felt as though Karawan was carving him forever and day, but eventually the demon lifted his head. He untied Craig's head and forced him to look at the handiwork. Craig looked down at his stomach and saw a sea of red, but underneath, he could make out the word "evil" carved into his skin. He was vaguely surprised to see that he could bleed in Hell, but didn't give it much more than a passing thought. Craig felt like he was going to pass out, but of course, Hell wouldn't allow that.