This is a preview to the chapter Eight from the book Hellbound by Tim Hawken.
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“Here you are, Michael. Sloth finally got back to us with those drinks.”
I pushed the bottle away as I sat upright again on my stool. It took a moment to readjust to my surroundings. I looked around Sloth’s Lounge to see the bodies of the most languid souls in Hell, lying scattered around me on the floor, rotting and withering away. They were content watching others’ lives on television, rather than living their own existence. I thought about the part of my life I’d just relived. It was a time where I was also wasting my life away like these souls. It made me feel ill. How could I wallow in self-pity like that? How could I run and hide away from myself, drowning myself in alcohol and smothering my senses with the false hope of slot machines? I hated who I was. I began to despise God for the lack of opportunities I’d been given. Born parentless, then out on the streets. I picked myself up, only to be knocked down by a twist of fate: killing a man during an arranged fight. What hope did I have?
“Oh, come on now, Michael!” Satan said, moving his face into my line of sight. “You can’t just blame God for all of your downfalls; that will simply prolong your stay in Hell. Now, I’m not defending him,” Satan laughed, “but we have to take responsibility for ourselves, even if we have been given a raw deal! Look at me, for example. I’ve been shafted more than anyone in the history of the universe and damn right, I’m furious, but I don’t go around whining all day about it. I get on with my lot and am thankful for the purpose it gives me. I also take joy in the fact I’m going to have my revenge one day!” His eyes lit up with a brief flicker of insane malice before he looked away.
and all the others, when you