The Pain of Hell

Pain is a funny thing. It can cloud your mind or clear it.
Laying on my back, I was tied to the table underneath me. It was cold and I was shaking. My body was going through shock and I could see faces above me – different people hovered over me, some I recognized some I didn’t. They weren’t ugly, they weren’t beautiful, they were average. People I couldn’t understand, people I could understand. They were all there, leaning over me. A scalpel here, a knife there. They all used different instruments, but all were used on me. Some were exact cuts, easy to recover from. Others were more vicious as though they whacked at me in anger. I cringed at first, but after so many cuts and so many wounds I became numb. There was only pressure left – the pressure left by pain. The blood eased out of me, but I couldn’t feel it. I just felt weak.
At first I had been anxious, aware, active. I had looked for Him, but He was in the background, watching, but doing nothing. It’s amazing how far away someone seems when they do nothing but watch. Do they care? Are they shocked? Are they happy? What are they feeling? I could still see Him, but it didn’t matter, He wasn’t doing anything, so why was He even there? Why didn't He leave? He had no business here. It didn’t matter. I couldn’t see Him anymore, the pain had flooded my mind like the blood had flooded over my body. It didn’t matter, nothing mattered.
After they were gone, I knew I wasn’t alone. He was still there, watching me, but in silence. I didn’t need to say anything and neither did He. Did I deserve this? Maybe. Probably. Maybe not. That wasn’t the point, we both knew that. Some wounds seemed to be closing up, but others were bleeding profusely. Even though they were gone, their actions remained. The blood still lingered. The pain still hurt. My mind still thought. Everything was the same, and nothing was the same. It all hurt, but I couldn’t feel anything. It throbbed, it was numb, it was there, it was gone. Nothing mattered, everything mattered and He was still there.
His arms were folded and He leaned against the door post. Was He going to leave me? Was He going to stand there all day? I couldn’t see the details of Him, just an aura of what he looked like – lean and tall, dark hair, dark suit, his stance was stiff. Was it in pain? Was it in justice? Was he happy with what had happened to me? Was He pleased or did He hurt? I didn’t know, it didn’t matter. It did matter, it mattered to me, but I couldn’t see. It was fate, it was destiny. It was a ruined life, it was out of control. Everything was destroyed, everything was renewed. There was nothing left, there was everything left. I was ruined, I was whole.
I hurt, the blood was on my hands, the wounds were all over me but the tears were too deep to come. To survive I ignored them, I hated me, I hated them. I fought through it all to live through it all. Did it matter? Did it not matter?
He walked around the room and I knew He was there. I knew He wouldn’t leave until I did. Where could I go? I couldn’t walk, I couldn’t feel. Where would I go? Was He crazy to think I could go somewhere else? Is that what He expected? What the hell? I hated Him, but I knew he didn’t hate me, his aloofness was almost worst. Why couldn’t He hate me for what I had done? Why couldn’t He choose sides? Why couldn’t I?
What the hell.
I was in hell.
My own hell.
But He was still there. Waiting to follow me out.