AFTER A WORDLESS MEAL of frozen pizza and Coke, I took the longest shower of my life. The hot water cleansed my aching bones and washed away the dreaded memories of Hell. With every step I took on Earth the lingering thoughts of Hell moved further into my memory, though I couldn’t shake them completely.
When the hot water trickled into my eyes, I instinctively squeezed them shut. That’s when I saw the demons, laughing as they skewered me with their tridents and roasted me over the flames. I snapped my eyes open and refused to close them again, even if the soap and water stung my eyes.
For whatever it was worth, when I was in Hell I didn’t dream of the pits. I didn’t dream of my torture. I didn’t dream at all. Even while recovering at Horace’s house, when I slept for days at a time, there
