I open my eyes to slowly unveil an abyss of pure obsidian.

  An acrid metallic taste stained my tongue, the essence of blood? A nauseating stench followed— they penetrate my nostrils, the smell from rotting corpses and the hot blazing air scorch my lungs. Meanwhile my muscles are frozen stiff, no matter how savage my attempts, they refuse me.

  Was this the aftermath of death? Have I reached my final destination? Slowly an idea began to take root: perhaps this was my eternal resting place? Hell—right? It seemed like a fitting place for a fraud like me. I waste no time on pitying myself, I didn’t deserve it. The abyss writhes around me swallowing every flicker of hope’s light, its tendrils seeping into my pores like a living infection, drowning me in nightmares eternal. Of course I am here, why would someone like me be anywhere else?

  A sixth sense harnessed by war wakes—I could feel countless eyes, glowing deadly green eyes stare at me from the shadows beyond what could be seen, it was an endless galaxy of emerald stars glaring at me from the darkness of doubt. Emerald green eyes that can only stare, pain-filled imprisoned eyes begging forgiveness. Were these the eyes of the doomed? Their suffering and silent pleas appeared in each pair of eyes. I close mine, not surprised to still see their flaming emerald glares through my closed eye-lids.

  I didn’t move nor could I but no panic manifests, I am accepting my death and this hell. This scenario would instill wordless terrors onto anyone, but me? I remain unmoved not wordless, there was simply nothing to say. My attention snapped back to the endless galaxy of emerald green eyes like a slap to the face as they pierce into my depths. They had begun dissecting my soul piece by piece, with silent judgment trying to understand, and my eyes begin to join the ocean of emerald flames. The abyss stares deep in me, somewhere I cannot protect, and it tries to overwhelm me, but there is nothing to overwhelm, only acceptance and so—I stare back.

  Only then— sound, it enters my ears for the first time since waking up and now the agonizing wails of desperation that echo around me are clearer than ever, they sound like gunfire. These were the echoes of war, the sound of shattered dreams left sacrificed for the whims of mortal tyrants wanting to be gods, no different than man but worshiped regardless, and now the worshipers turned prisoners beg for liberation, but their gods aren’t here, their gods have no power. the screams of lives unlived are deafening, but their cries for help will not be heard by the living regardless of how loud or true, and I found myself alongside them, right in the middle of this abyss.

  There is a sorrowful irony in these dejected souls, each trapped in their metallic cage carrying the weight of the sins made by others, punished in death for the actions of those still living. It was beyond unjust, yet here they are. I see my reflection in their glares and a lingering question is left in my mind…Were these prisoners truly dead? A realization kicks in, and I begin to pray to God for the first time in my meaningless life, my desperation hopes that those I cared for were not here with me.

  My vision begins to adjust to my new reality, where I am hanging in the air. Through the darkness I can just barely make out the silhouette of my weak arms outstretching from left to right. Rusted wires burrow deep into my palms ripping and carving through my muscles, splitting flesh and veins alike, spilling warmth down my body in slow pulsing rivers. I was crucified, just barely held up by the wires that slowly and painfully slip out through my flesh, my weight pushing me down for gravity to rip out the cords connected to each of my muscle fivers; slowly—each passing second veins and muscles are torn bit-by-bit from within, slipping into an endless cycle.

  Even through this hellish pain, the presence of people gather my focus below me to the shifting darkness, the grim realization numbed my mind of any previous pain. I lower my undivided attention towards where there figures stood. A knot quickly stopped my breath, it was the squad I was part of, their corpses stand frozen, flesh peeling from bone brittle, faces frozen in horrifically displayed as they stood silent, they will be witnesses to my judgment.

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  My memories begin to recollect and the vicious sounds of war machines ring in my ears,it was the savage music of heavy metal hitting against heavy metal. In an attempt to let out my feelings, my mouth opens but a soundless scream fallows, overshadowed by the harsh sounds of the battlefield that echoed in my mind. The flood of memories made my chest tremble, the guilt of each broken promise too painful, and each of their deaths was a hole in my heart the size of a bullet.

  Now I know for sure, This is hell.

  My comrades, once invincible super soldiers all died in front of me, one by one— each of them a hero with a tale of its own. Commanders hailed them as a phantom power, almost a myth- elite, skilled, tactical, and rational. I was part of their elite platoon, yet still unworthy of their trust. They were demi-gods among soldiers, considered by many to be ‘too expensive to kill’. Until they were reduced to mortal mangled corpses, laying on the blood soaked battlefield. I had nowhere near the skill that was required to be appointed to their squad, I simply didn’t belong with them, I was not good enough and all I can do now is blame myself, it was my fault. Killing my comrades must be the sin that sent me to this hell, in the end, It was due to my incompetence that they died, their cold dead eyes have damned me.

  I blame myself, a relentless loop of self-loathing. The ghosts of my comrades whisper my name with damned cries, eating away at my sanity, and I remember not to blame myself alone, those filthy tyrants had to take some of the blame too, no? they who only ever sat on their thrones built by the blood of impoverished slaves. Dreams to form rebellions strong enough to spark the machine of revolution in America had died alongside them, and I was greedy for wanting to be part of it all. Although they had accepted me, I could not accept myself, now in hell, maybe I can accept the fact that I was not good enough. Here I will receive my punishment, the punishment of letting them—the only ones who ever cared for me, die in vain.

  I love them, and they will be the chains that keep me here, to be tormented eternally for my own incompetence. I have no one to hate, but one person, I will forever curse, the nepotist that appointed me, me joining had moved far too many eyes, it had to be his doing, and for the rest of my existence I will curse him while waiting for his arrival, because that is all I can do.

  Their figures are still looking up to my body that is slowly falling apart, piece by piece being dismembered slowly, falling like stretching red jello. Their hands reach out to me and begin envelop what is left of corpse, starting from what is left of my swinging legs. I can only close my eyes in anticipation, they were going to drag me down to the bottom of hell and rip apart my body like the rest. But I wasn’t mad, I wasn’t sad or angry, It was strangely calming. Only one person was stuck in my head as their hands begin to make their way up, beginning to weight me down.

  It was his fault that Earth became this way, this single thought became ingrained in my mind;

  He was the reason why the bombs dropped. Their arms reaching up to my ankles.

  He was the reason why the war had begun. Their hands grab my waist.

  He was the reason why peace was impossible. Their fingers climb up my chest.

  He was the reason why mom died. Their nails finally dig onto my neck.

  What is left of me feels their hands cover each and every part of my body. I expect to be dragged down to the depths of the abyss, I want to open my eyes one last time, but I am too ashamed and afraid of meeting their emerald eyes.

  The time had come but instead of being pushed down and having my innards ripped from within, I feel myself slowly rising. My body is forcibly wrenched back together by their hands, muscles being knit over torn bone, stretched skin tightening over tendons and torn bones, being fixed like a machine back into one piece. Meanwhile I keep rising up away from the black obsidian abyss, rising up away from the suffering prisoners in metal cages, rising up away from the emerald eyes. I feel myself being forgiven, my sins were being washed away, my veins and cords were cut off from my cross and my thoughts are being replaced by a newfound purpose.

  My mission is now clear, I had been given the opportunity to drag him with me to the deepest parts of hell, it was a mission to fulfill the dreams of my fallen comrades, so I rise. No longer will I drown in glaring emerald flames, instead I will hunt him, and I will make him see the hell from which I was reborn.