Sharp was the feeling in my lungs when I inhaled the smoke. My skin burned. The stink of sulfur was thick and foul. This was Hell.

I crawled naked across the blackened plain, guided only by the faint light of a distant river of fire. I had nowhere to go. No reason to believe anywhere else would hurt less than where I was, but still, I kept crawling.

My fantasies were elaborate. I imagined making a deal with some demon. To take on some extra torture, so that in exchange I would be granted a single breath of clean, fresh air. Just once, I wanted to feel what that was like again. Or, I would pray to God every day, and as a reward for staying strong, I imagined he would permit me one mouthful of cool, fresh water to soothe my cracked tongue and aching throat. But no matter how hard I prayed, how hard I imagined, every day in Hell was the same, without a moment of relief.

I feared I would never again feel pleasure or satisfaction. That, as punishment for what I had done, I would never feel a single happy moment ever again.

Then I saw her. She was lying naked on the black earth, staring vacantly into the distance. She looked as wretched as I imagined I did. She was frail, with charred skin and chapped lips. Her hair was all burned away. Yet I could see, through the scars of torment, that she was still beautiful. Even moreso when she noticed me, and greeted me with a faint smile. How had such a pure thing ended up in Hell?

I stayed with her. We talked, though her English was not good. I learned her name was Naung Ta, and she had grown up a beggar in Myanmar. She had been killed in an earthquake.

We talked about a lot of things, but most of all she wanted to talk about how she ended up in Hell. Naung Ta was stricken with guilt. She had done bad things to survive. Things which were against God. When she and her sisters were starving as children, she had stolen bread. That wasn’t so bad, though she felt guilt even for that. But when she was older, she had sex outside of marriage. Sex with strange men, in exchange for money. By then, her mother and father had been killed in the civil war, and she was desperate for money. She knew it was wrong. She knew it was a sin, but she did it anyway. Nothing I did could ease her regret.

I also told her how I had died — a car accident — but I avoided telling her how I’d ended up in Hell. Unlike her, I had no excuse for my sins. No starving sisters. Only pathetic selfishness.

There was nowhere to go in Hell. Nothing to do except talk to each other. So we talked for hours. Only stopping when, from sheer exhaustion, we managed to steal some fitful minutes of sleep, until we’d be awoken again by our thirst and our pain. Then we’d talk again. We grew close, but I feared she would discover the truth about me.

I should have just told her the truth, but how could I? How could I describe to her how my wife had begged me to stay with her? How I told her no — that I didn’t want my life to be ruined too? She had cancer. She was going to die. I took the money and left her with nothing. She didn’t need it, I said. She was dying anyway. I needed my own fresh start. I actually had the gall to tell her I would live for the both of us. If only I’d known how bad the guilt would be, I’d never have done it. I was young and stupid. I didn’t know better. But the devil laughs at excuses.

I couldn’t tell Naung Ta about my past. I couldn’t taint her opinion of me. Even then, I didn’t want to be burdened by my wife’s illness. I wanted a fresh start with Naung Ta. After everything I’d been through, I deserved a fresh start.

But Naung Ta was clever, and could tell I was hiding something. She knew I must have done something wrong to end up in Hell, of course, but started to grow suspicious that what I’d done had been much worse than her own sins. Eventually, she told me that either I would tell her, or she would leave.

I considered making up some lie. How I killed someone, but it had been self defense. Something like that. But instead, I decided to trust her. She was my only friend. She was all I had. So I opened up. I told her about my cowardice. How I’d been a bad husband, and abandoned my wife in her time of need.

She didn’t say anything. She just stared at me for a long time. The air seemed hotter. Finally, she spoke. “I misjudge you.” That’s all she said. Then she stood up and started walking away.

“No!” I coughed through the smoke. I ran after her. I begged her to stay. She was all I had. I followed her, pleading and begging, but she ignored me. I told her I would do anything. I told her I wasn’t the man I used to be. That I’d learned my lesson. But she didn’t care; she wouldn’t listen.

I put my hand on her shoulder and spun her around to face me. She was grinning from ear to ear. Her black eyes were now glowing red, and a pair of short, black horns sprouted from her forehead. She cackled, showing sharp, inhuman teeth.

Leathery black wings unfurled from her back, and she hovered a few feet off the ground. The tip of her spiked, metal whip fell to the black dirt. I ran.

“Why are you running? Don’t abandon me like you abandoned your wife! Don’t you love me? I thought we were in love!” the demon shrieked with laughter that echoed all around me. She cracked her whip. I felt its sting across my back. “Come on, don’t you want to cry on my shoulder? Feel sorry for yourself? I’ll tell you everything will be okay! You did your best! You didn’t mean to hurt her! You were just scared!” Her cruel words echoed loudly across the black plain, hurting my ears even as I pulled away from her. “Come, kiss me and forget your wife!”

I ran as fast as I could. I dodged into a forest of burnt, blackened trees. I could hear her searching for me, still mocking me. I prayed she would lose track of me. I told God I would change; I would become whoever he wanted me to be. But in Hell, prayers are never answered. There was nothing to stop me from getting what I knew I deserved.

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