“If the devil doesn’t exist, but man created him, he has created him in his own image.”
‘The Brothers Karamazov’, Fyodor Dostoevski, Russian novelist
“You can get your daughter back from Hell,” the White Angel told him.
“She’s in Hell?” Liam gasped. Then he hung his head. Of course. Where else would she be? That prick, that perp who was responsible for her death—he had made her his crime buddy. They sold drugs together, robbed innocent people, and finally overdosed. Both of them.
Both dead.
If she weren’t my daughter, I would have said they deserved it.
“What do you mean, I can get her back?” he asked, his voice barely audible. Speaking loudly didn’t seem advisable in the presence of an Angel of God.
“You can get her back to the living. Have her here again, with you.” The White Angel folded his hands over his chest. He looked exactly like the statues of angels in Catholic temples: tall, silver-colored, and winged.
“How is that going to happen?” A faint hope flickered in Liam’s chest. When he first saw the Angel in his room, he thought he was dreaming. Then he touched him, felt the softness of divine flesh, and knew this was real.
“I’ll show you the way. You’ll go to Hell and get her out.”
“You’re giving me this chance?”
“God is giving you this chance. Make sure you don’t waste it.”
The Angel vanished, and in his place, a door appeared.
A big, bright red door in the middle of the room. The knob looked as if it would burn his fingers if he touched it, but Liam stepped forward and turned it anyway.
Hell was a hot place. The air shimmered with unbearable heat, and Liam felt his skin begin to melt with every step. His flesh dripped off in thick globs, revealing bone beneath. The pain was beyond anything he thought a human could bear, but his desperation overpowered it. He couldn’t stop. He had to find her.
She is here somewhere.
Among the burning bushes, the screaming skeletons, and the Black Angels swooping under the rust-red sky like enormous, angry bats.
Here somewhere.
Liam stumbled along a path of white-hot embers, searching every skull, every tooth-filled mouth, every gaping eye socket.
How will I recognize her without her flesh?
When he finally saw her, he was little more than a skeleton himself. But he knew it was her. Her dancing walk—the sway of her bony hips—and the faint curve of her front teeth.
She wasn’t alone.
Another skeleton moved beside her: taller, clankier, and gleaming in the firelight. They were holding hands.
“Daddy?” she asked. Her voice sounded like a wet gurgle, spoken without lips or a tongue.
“Yes, it’s me,” he gurgled back. “I came to take you out. God’s giving you another chance. Come with me.”
“Are you serious?”
“Completely. Come!”
“No. I can’t. I mean… I can’t go without him!” Her arm tightened around the skeleton beside her. “I love him!”
“He killed you!” Liam screamed. “He dragged you into this life, and then this place! He deserves to be here! You were just a victim. Come with me!”
“No!” she said firmly.
“The White Angel told me to get you out,” Liam said, stomping his foot against the scorching ground. “He didn’t mention anything about him.”
“I don’t care!” she shouted. “I’m not coming without him!”
Liam clenched his teeth. She won’t budge unless I fake agreement. I know that tone of hers. I have to pretend if I want to save her.
“Okay. Okay. We’ll take him,” he murmured.
He led the two skeletons back toward the red door. Two Black Angels stood guard.
“We have permission to leave,” Liam said. “From God. The permission is for two people, so you can take this one back.” He pointed to his daughter’s boyfriend.
“On the contrary,” one of the Black Angels said, glancing at a black notebook. “The permission is for three people. If there were only two of you, we wouldn’t have let you out. You’d have stayed here forever.”
Liam stared at him, mouth open.
Suddenly, he felt every ounce of the pain he had been blocking—his missing flesh, his burning bones, and the raw, endless torment of existence itself, as if his very being were peeling away in the fire. He started to tremble violently.
The three passed slowly through the door and ended up in Liam’s apartment. Alive and whole.
His daughter was more beautiful than ever, her skin glowing with life. Her boyfriend, surprisingly handsome, stepped forward and knelt before Liam.
“Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you for your forgiveness.”
Liam stared at him. His shoulders shook with sobs. Tears blurred his vision.
He knelt beside the boy and pulled him into his arms.
Hello, friends! I hope you enjoyed my story! If you subscribe, you’ll get one short story in your inbox every week. The next one will reveal to you the fantastic depths of fatherly love!
Always yours,
Dreamy Nev
What a powerful ending and twist! Forgiveness can be hard to do at times, but Liam did it. I salute him for that considering the heavy situation. Great stuff, as usual, D.N.
Lovely story, Nevena! It was really intense and made me think of how easy it is to lose even our last chance if we make a not-so-good decision. But fortunately, they did not lose it.