A Sinners Last Resort

The cryptic corridors stood lengthy and wide. A chilling breeze lingered, sending shivers down the lowly moral's spine. Every minute there was a tick of a clock and whisper from the dead. The hall slowly narrowed to a gate, with such monstrous carving symbolizing human sacrifice, the door gave all who dared to enter goosebumps.

The gates opened to a large black throne, a disembodied figure manifesting as the dim lights flickered and cried. Paintings positioned perfectly on the walls portraying death, the grovelling of humanity and Salem's delectable fires. These ominous creations bestowed upon the mortal the effects of inhuman activity.

A figure, who was so elegantly seated on their throne of filth, watched the unfortunate mortal enter his domain of unholiness. A smirk, so curious, appeared on his face of greed. With each glassy eye that came into contact with the Reaper of Punishment, an audible thump echoed in a hidden room connected to the one the mortal stood inside. A divide between ominous seduction and blood-curdling madness exposed every mortal's envious curiosities.

The stench of coppery bitterness attacked your senses; the putrid scent of vulgarity. The figure mockingly chucked at the mortal's reaction. Her feminine eyes profusely watered, her thirst for fresh air and freedom caused by her own decisions would be her last regret.

In her pitiful embarrassment, she remembered why she'd entered a vulgar place such as this. It was regret, unsurprisingly the burden of her crimes consumed her, no longer capable of living her pathetic excuse of a life, she used her last resort.

"Kneel before me, sacrifice." The figure leaned on his palm. Eyes drilling into the mortal's, with one look he uncovered her deepest darkest sins.

[The mortal's perspective]

I foolishly attempted to avoid eye contact, resulting in my knees slamming to the ground and eyes painfully straining as an unseen force compelled me to stare at the figure on the throne. My whole body felt heavier than lead, skin rougher than sandpaper and bones tearfully brittle. Somehow, I knew he'd let himself inside my mind, like a locksmith, no need for a key. He owned me.

"A sacrifice who seeks atonement?" the figure leaned forward.

'Atonement?' my confusion took a hold of me.

"Disapproval, why?"

"It's wrong." I bluntly responded.

"Explain?" he leaned back in his throne.

"You look inside my soul and see everything I've seen, know everything I've done and, you, conclude atonement? Are you shitting me!" I exclaimed frustratedly.

"Childish." he scoffed. "My diagnosis is correct, whether your denial dares to accept it or not?" his assertion was daunting.

Throughout my life I'd never been reprimanded for anything, my dad made empty threats regarding my phone, laptop, and other "teen essentials", I depend on during my high school days. The assertion of a stranger shook me to my core, but the words of my father were no scarier than a spider on a wall.

"Hah… you're the first person? I guess. That's set me straight, my dad, he-"

"Perished?" he nipped her story in the bud.

My eyes welled up in surprise, this unholy person had the decency to address my father's passing with zero respect and state that he perished; leaving no room for sympathies, he just punched my grief in the face with no expression.

"You're no different from me or any other monster that enters this wretched place. You just sit there, basking in their misery with a smirk on your face. You may as well atone for your sins like the rest of us!" I called him out on his ignorant bullshit.

"Are you done? Wonderful." he sat up. "All your life, you are entitled to choose, there's no one forcing you to do good or bad, it's your choice." he rose to his feet. "Furthermore, you've contradicted yourself in your emotional little speech. You smothered your father to death before burning the house down. You outed a vulnerable individual to their school, which led to their suicide." he smirked at my empty expression. His steps echoing around the room as he descended the six steps from his throne. "I see through your facade, Emilia Wight." I flinched at the sudden whisper in my right ear. His crimson eyes staring into my soul as his head creep over my shoulder.

"You're insane!" I screamed. Running towards the stairs and stumbling on something unseen.

"Don't be dim, Emilia." he mocked my frightened response to his blood-curdling whispers. "We see you, there's nowhere to hide!" his eyes glowed a crimson glow as the faces on the walls transformed into whaling monstrosities.

"Go away!" I yelled. "I take it back, all of it back. Please, please believe me?" pleading with the reincarnation of the devil himself, I curled into a ball as the faces honed in on me. "I'm not ready to die!" I whimpered.

[Atonement Phase]

Waking in a dark room to the sound of feet lightly thumping down the hallway, I turned over in bed and watched the bedroom door open. My eyes widened at the sight of my deceased father with his hands behind his back, shooting upright with morbid realization, I was frantically slammed against the stone-like mattress with a pillow firmly pressed against my face.

"Pah-pah!" my muted screams were dismissed. Fight or flight pumped adrenaline through my veins and memories into my mind.

I suddenly became faint, my muscles struggling to hold out a few minutes longer as my lungs became starved of oxygen. Darkness consumed me, and the agonizing pain of flames burning me inside out. I couldn't move, scream or open my eyes. There was only agonizing pain and the sound of my melting clothes binding to my skin before eventually being consumed by fire.

The torture was endless. I suffocated and burned alive six hundred and sixty-six times. My father, held me down harder and harder every time the next loop begun. The emotional turmoil was nothing close to the agony of burning alive that many times. I welcomed death, I'd opened the door to end my hell and accepted my sins for the evil, demonic monsters they were, and it finally stopped.

Awakening to the devil's twin brother, I saw the expressionless look of satisfaction on his face. He gestured with his eyes to a mirror a meter from my feet. He was intrigued, for what reason I was naively unaware. Approaching the mirror on my hands and knees. I froze in disbelief.

I attempted to speak, but no sound was made. Scattering to the mirror, I came face to face with the consequences of my actions and the result of my atonement.

"Atonement is a powerful thing, it teaches mortals their sins come with a price." he explained. "The process of atonement is no longer than an hour within this realm, but behind those doors, it feels like an eternity!" he smirked with sadistic excitement. "Your payment was reasonably low. I'd expect you to be half as scarred as you are now; scorched, mute, and hideous. You've become your victim." he spoke with no emotion. "That was the cost of your atrocities!" he slouched in his throne, a fresh white skull forming on his throne. It was mine.