What A Hell Of A Way Die Novels & Stories

So now she could ask. "So why is Katie here and where is Alicia?" She watched them look at each other as if the other one had told her. "Nobody has told me because Katie was with me all day, so..?" Nick let out a sigh, "she's dead. Andrea said she died last week of a drug overdose." Millie choked on her drink. "What? That poor little girl, she must be terrified." Gabriel tried to comfort her. "She can't be that terrified she's been laughing and giggling all day."

It has three blue-grey gems – a big one at the center and small ones beside it. “I’ve asked permission for your parents and they agreed. Emily, I am willing to live the rest of my life with you and I will marry you once again after you graduate college.” He started. Words were caught up once again in her throat. Her heart beat excruciatingly hard against her chest, “What about Hell?” “Hell has its own king.” “Who?” “Alfred.” “Alfred, the mortal butler?” Her eyes widened, “That couldn’t be! He’s gone!”

I opened my eyes fully and looked down at the sweet child peeking sleepily up at me. "You hurted my daddy," Miguel mumbled in confusion. My heart dropped and I shook my head. I wasn't completely responsible for their deaths. I mean their father died in the stupid Iraq war and their blonde haired mother hung herself after getting the news. I dealt with death but not the way the individual died, that was solely on those fate bitches. "This is bullshit, let's go, don't ever forget about me little man, we will meet again in the future, this I swear," I growled. I moved him off me, patting his head sweetly and hurried past Maria cursing me while holding a cross up at me.

“Nikita, please just tell us what’s going on.” My heart pounded against my ribcage, a desperate drum trying to keep time against the tide of chaos threatening to overtake me. I took a breath, steadying the tremor in my hands, and when I spoke, the words felt like stones sinking into the abyss. “As you all know, I died...” I forced myself to continue. “...But when I did, I saw my mother. She told me the only way I could truly die was by the hand of my curse. It has to run its course.”

Slowly, he felt the rough and decaying hands holding him. “No, no, nooo!” Scott could hear his own voice ringing in his eardrums as the hands forcefully dragged him down to which he assume to be the bottom of hell. He felt more hands dragging him; his struggles are all meaningless. Soon enough, he’ll already run out of air. What an awful way to meet its own demise. Scott had already lost all hope the moment he breathed his last breath and let the dead take him wherever they want—but there’s this light he sees from the surface and it’s getting brighter and brighter.

“You know there’s an app that you can use to get a ride pretty much anywhere. It’s called Uber.” She looks at me dumbfounded. “What?!? Are you serious? You mean I could just call a car to drive me instead of running everywhere like Usain Bolt. What a concept, next you’re going to tell me we don’t have to call people anymore and we can just send them words.” Sarcasm drips from her tone and I don’t like it. She’s a mouthy little thing and it’s going to get her in trouble…but why does it make me hard as a fucking rock?

Make him die. But guess what?

Let me guess, since I'm not entirely new to this rodeo: if we don't fulfill this oath? We will die, my demon sent. Craptastic. ***

My anger boils over. I scream. “You are all already dead! You are too stupid to know it! Believing in my blood as your salvation is like believing that Jesus Christ will walk through that door and grant you an eternity. I might die tonight, but I won’t be alone long in hell because you all will soon follow me!”

Sensing that, I take a deep breath, lift my head up and say, “ I would rather die, Father….” At this point, death seems more like mercy that I grace upon myself, like a permanent fix, so I don't have to prolong my suffering; enduring his filthy hand on my body, allowing him inside me and breathing life to the recollection of that sickening fucking nightmare, flashing before my eyes over and over again. “Please let me die.” . . . “Hell is empty and all the devils are here.” ―William shakespeare When men are oppressed, it's a tragedy. When women are oppressed, it's tradition.