Where his unholy torment may be a testament to his wretched life and wicked ways. His skin flayed and viscera scattered about. Where he will weep and cry but it will only bolster the resolve of his tormentors. For they hate him. He will know what true fear and pain is. But it will be no solace for there will be no end and no escape. His eternity will be soured with an anguish one could never imagine. His skin will crack like desert soil, and his veins will bleed like the Tigris and Euphrates, But never enough to quench the thirst of his abusers. Hell is now as hell will always be, has always been. But the fear into his eyes, his scent and his resolves will be a new heaven to me.


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