Two

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Words: 4.5k

Warnings: Mentions of anxiety. This series plays around with religion a rather large amount.

Collaboration with another author but she deleted, so I took to editing it and changing a few concepts so bare with me! 

THIS CHAPTER WAS EDITED / PARTS WERE REWRITTEN AND REPOSTED ON 10/05/2019

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"For the first time ever, he'll know kindness and gratitude. Through his gift, the king will learn what it is to feel something other then hatred."

You wake up and the first thing you notice is that your head is pounding– it's excruciating, like someone's knocking a hammer against your brain or sticking a pin between each of your eyes. You groan, rubbing the space that was aching the most. It feels like what the mortals would call a hangover... only worse. With that knowledge in mind and the fact that you weren't in your own bed, your hands fly down to your chest where your dress still sits and you let out a sigh of relief.

Sitting up, you notice that the room isn't white or a gentle blue and Instead it's dark, with black wallpaper lining the walls and wooden floorboards. Red flames line the walls, illuminating the room and slowly you sit up until bare feet, once scratched up and blistered adjust to the flooring and the first thing you notice other then the interior is that it's hot, therefore your little trip wasn't a dream and you were still in hell. You were awaiting your bitter ending.

You swallow. Then think. Take a moment to taste the fear and anxiety on your tongue and shudder.

A glass of water sits beside the bed and though your throat was screaming at you to drink some – even just a sip, you push that to the back of your mind and ignore the glass. You didn't want to find out what they put in the 'water' they gave to trespassing angels just yet. It could easily be a poison that'd put you through an eternity of excruciating pain or send you waves of terrible dreams that would wake you up screaming to the point where your throat would be red and raw and voice scratchy.

Being the rather nosey angel you are, you look around the room and only happen to glance into the rubbish bin where you see wrappers belonging to bandages, bloody tissues and a few other things. You screw your face up, looking away as quickly as you glanced down. Still, you couldn't understand why they were making a big fuss out of cleaning you up if they were going to put you through extreme trials that would eventually lead to the end of your existence.

It was a miracle you had even surprised the fall. A goddamn wonder you'd made it even five minutes surrounded by bloodthirsty demons who had swung their knives around you like you were their next meal.

Shaking your head, you observe your surroundings further. The room was much too big for your liking and especially one that simply contained a large, king sized bed, bedside table, cabinet and mirror. But the colours sent shivers down your spine. While everything was white and the odd time a pale blue in Heaven, you noticed that Hell prefered deep, crimson red, black and grey.

Everything was dark, accented with colours that'd be forbidden in heaven and flames lit up the halls. Even this room that you had figured was where medical treatment was carried out for the Kings inner circle had a bright flame on each wall. You'd never seen a fire in your life before today, it was prohibited in Heaven, the council demanding that it was too dark.

However, you lift your hand, fingers stretching upwards as you ran one through the fire. Despite the awful rumours you heard about the stuff. You don't feel anything, not even a slight burn as they sat in the middle of the flame. The sight was hypnotic, really and you stare lustfully toward the flame that kisses your fingertips.

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