Thanks to a dare gone wrong, Maggie Brumfield finds out the hard way that Heaven and Hell are real.
Prince Laudon, Lucifer's son and the current ruler of Hell, has locked Maggie into a sinister deal that grants him temporary ownership of her soul...
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MAGGIE'S POV
I wake up alone inside a small jail-like cell.
It's dark and uncomfortably quiet. An eerie type of quiet that gives you goosebumps and taunts your imagination with nothing but negative thoughts.
I desperately feel around for my phone, curious to know how long I've been here and also to see if I can call for help. Any type of help. I later sigh in exasperation because apparently on my way to Hell, nothing had come with me except for the clothes that I'm wearing. I'm even without my knife. I shake my head and let out a bitter laugh. What is wrong with me? As if there'd be any cell reception down here. I'm clearly not thinking straight.
Even if I did have a way to tell time, it's probably for the best that I don't know it. There's no point in knowing because the reality is that I'm stuck here forever. Time doesn't matter. I don't matter. Nothing matters anymore.
I'm dead.
I want to scream, cry, and wish away everything that's happening but I can't. I have to push past it. I have to be tough and move on. That's what my father would tell me if he were here. Whenever I threw a tantrum as a child, my father would always tell me how there was no point in whining and crying because ultimately, it wouldn't change anything. What happened, happened. Best to move forward rather than dwell on something that can't be undone.
His wise words still ring true to this moment.
There's no sense in me breaking down. It isn't going to change the fact that I'm royally screwed, so I might as well suck it up and get comfortable. Hell is my new home, and the sooner that I accept that, the easier the rest of eternity will be for me. Hopefully.
At least I have back control of my legs. I stand and stretch my stiff body, groaning in discomfort as my joints crack and pop like I'm eighty years old.
Having been forced to sleep on a concrete floor will leave you feeling that way. Though, I can't be too annoyed. This is Hell, after all. Being given a fully furnished room on day one just wouldn't have been realistic. And after that unexpected zapping trick that I did on Laudon, the devil's son, I doubt he's in the mood to hear my complaints about Hell's terrible housekeeping.
"Hello? Is anyone out there?" I move closer to the thick metal bars, calling out into the pitch-black darkness surrounding my tiny prison. "My name is Maggie, for anyone listening. I'm... new here. And while this is probably said a lot, I'm really not supposed to be here. Any tips on getting through this nightmare would be greatly appreciated."
I don't know what I'm doing right now, but it beats standing around talking to myself.
As I wait for a response, I begin to count the seconds in my head. One minute passes, then two, and then three. By the ten minute mark, I sink to the ground in defeat.
