❝What's so great about sanity? I don't see you having any fun.❞
When asked to define insanity, a great majority of the Eichen House staff would direct the questioner to a petite brunette by the name of Lita Mitchell. In a building comprised of cli...
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To hell with her.
The ground was cold, coated in a thick layer of dust, dirt & blood. A metallic scent of the aforementioned crimson liquid lingered all around, mixed with mildew & death; the toxic combination was the first thing that found its way into her lungs as she awoke with a sharp intake of air. She breathed deeply for a few seconds, lying still against the hard floor & appreciating the fact that her lungs were no longer overflowing with blood.
Lita's eyes fluttered open after a moment passed. Then they fell shut in an instant, as she caught a glimpse of the blindingly bright glow emitting in front of her. What kind of asshole leaves a fucking fireball in front of someone sleeping? People were so inconsiderate. Lita blinked a few times, the luminescence burning each time she left the safety of darkness.
She slowly began to ease into it, squinting her eyes but managing to keep them open for more than a few seconds— only after about a minute did it occur to Lita that she wasn't bound in place. She was laying on a floor, and from what she could tell there were no restraints around her wrists or ankles, as she was used to. Why the hell had she yet to turn away from the light?
Lita moved to turn over, an involuntary groan escaping her lips as she felt how stiff her muscles had become. It was as though they hadn't been used in years; Lita imagined that was how the fat woman in room 38B felt when orderlies forced her to get out of bed each morning to take her pills. She managed to push herself up off the ground into a sitting position, facing the stone wall behind her rather than the blinding glow.
The light still reached her, but she was able to focus on the darkness provided by her shadow until her eyes had adjusted enough to face the light. When Lita looked over her shoulder at the source, she almost didn't believe her eyes. She couldn't decide which she was more astounded at— the flaming torch on the wall, or the prison cell bars. Why the hell was she in prison? Why the hell did prison have torches on the walls?
Wait.
Why the hell am I alive?
Malia had slashed her throat. Lita died. Lita remembered dying— she remembered the darkness taking over, consuming her & dragging her down. She remembered the abyss of absolutely nothing that she had spent what felt like an eternity in. Why had she suddenly been torn away from the comfort of her own personal black hole & thrown into a stupid prison cell?
"Morning sunshine." A voice chimed, gaining the psychopath's attention in an instant. She turned to see a boy around her age, possibly a few years older— he had pale skin, black hair & eyes blacker than the abyss she so dearly missed. "Here's your welcome basket. I hope you had a nice nap. It's the only one you'll be getting for awhile."
The boy opened her cell door, tossing in a wicker basket wrapped in foil. It was full of muffins— actual, edible muffins, as far as she could tell by looking at it. Lita had never been more confused in her life. She thought the relevation of the supernatural being real had been a stretch, but this; this was the ultimate mind fuck. Prison gave out complimentary muffin baskets?
"Are these chocolate chip?" Lita questioned, unable to tell through the red transparent foil paper.
"Blueberry." The boy responded.
Lita scrunched up her nose in response; she hated blueberries. What kind of monster would bake a fruit into a muffin? The only thing that belonged in muffins was chocolate chips. Perhaps that was her punishment for all the crimes she had committed— being thrown in jail & served the abomination that is blueberry muffins. It was a fate worse than death.
"Everything you need to know is in the welcome pamphlet." He informed her unenthusiastically, gesturing to the brochure looking paper tied to the basket by a piece of ribbon. "Do yourself a favour & read it so you don't get exorcised on your first day."
"Exorcised?" Lita furrowed her brows, cocking her head to the side. "What, does this place have like, a mandatory gym class? Because I don't do cardi— hey, where are you going?" Her question remained unanswered as the boy's footsteps faded away into the distance.
Lita rolled her eyes at the empty space in front of her cell, before turning back to the welcome basket. She untied the brochure from the basket handle & unfolded it, finding an alarming amount of text & a few questionable images. Apparently jail also required reading. It didn't take Lita long to decide that she had nothing better to do & begin reading the paper.
The front looked as though it were made on Microsoft paint; a picture of a fiery lava filled landscape straight out of an apocalypse movie was pasted lazily on the front, with nothing more than the word Hell scribed above it in Comic Sans. She turned it over to the back, sighing as she discovered an "About Us" section also written entirely in Comic Sans, but began to read over it anyways.
"Hell was founded shortly after the first human was born, by the archangel Lucifer after God expelled him from Heaven for refusing to bow to humanity. Hell was designed to be Lucifer's prison, but soon became his kingdom when he fought back against God in an act of rage. He corrupted a human soul, Lilith, and created the first demon for his army. He was locked in a cage by his brothers & father, but was briefly freed in 2009 before being locked away again. In his absence, another demon of immense power has taken the throne & now rules."
"What the actual fuck?" Lita muttered, turning the unfolded sheet of paper over to examine the inside. There were three images, all having sickening levels of gore that made Lita slightly more excited about her new residence.
"Welcome to Hell. If you were dragged here against your will after making a deal with one of our lovely staff members, please see paragraph three. If you landed here by committing various crimes in life, please see paragraph two."
Lita's gaze moved over to the next page.
"Congratulations on winning a VIP ticket to Lucifer's prison! You are one of Heaven's rejects, too human for Purgatory, so you were sent to us. Whether you're a psychopath, sociopath, or a little bit of both, you're sure to feel right at home in our scorching hot flames. Torture is at 1300, and is optional for VIPs, but will become mandatory if orders are disobeyed. Please don't forget to pay a visit to the King between the hours of 1400 & 1800 to receive orders. We hope you enjoy serving your sentence of eternal damnation."
Lita had read a lot of strange things in her life, but that shit just knocked Anastasia's weird metaphors in Fifty Shades of Grey right out of first place. She was half convinced she was merely floating around in a void of her own insanity & this was a creation of it, but oddly enough, she didn't mind. She did say she was going to hell. Lita couldn't exactly argue with something she had practically predicted. There was absolutely nothing she could say or so without making herself into a complete & utter hypocrite who went back on her own words.
So she leaned back against the wall, tore the foil wrapper from the muffin basket, picked up one of the godawful blueberry muffins & took a bite. Lita was crazy— absolutely fucking crazy. Crazier than any Jesus freak or schizophrenic within the walls of Eichen House. Crazier than William Barrow. Lita was so damn crazy, that sitting there against an uncomfortable stone wall, with a mouthful of her least favourite food, she felt at home.
She felt like finally, she was somewhere she could truly be herself & not be placed in handcuffs or held at gunpoint because she was among her people. Among others just as bad as her— and if they weren't, they would be tortured until they were, from what she understood. This was a place she could call her home. This was a place she could live in.
This was a place she could rule.
—
UNEDITED.
i know crowley turned hell into one long ass line, but y'know i wanted to put my own humorous twist on it. hell has muffin baskets. everyone gets their least favourite kind of muffin.
