1.5

The sin of Jim Cross

'Thou shalt not murder' – The Sixth Commandment.

Everything had gone horrible wrong for Jim Cross, born 1940 in a suburb in the US of A, this year the teenager turned 15. Here he was holding a kid hostage while wearing a Major America costume, completed with a cardboard shield and a revolver hidden under it. He was surrounded by the police who all had their weapons aimed at the house.

Thinking back, what led him here to this crazy situation…

His high school life had started out satisfactory enough. Aloof and fashionably quiet by nature, he was destined to be popular. The teenager was also blessed with a built body and a face enough to make any girl swoon.

And so, Jim was always loved by his fellow schoolmates who admired his individuality. The girls loved him, the boys respected him. It was all well and good.

That was until his long-time friend, the shy and quiet Jane Crawford, blew her brain out with a double barrel in the school yard. It was an accident, no, Jane Crawford killed herself in an explosive fashion and she wanted everyone to witness it, including Jim.

But what could have led her to that horrid decision?

The girl was raised a loving father, a devout Christian. And while her long-time friendship with Jim had made the girl subject of jealousy before, it never crossed any line.

The rumours started to surface, after all, wasn't it strange for a boy and girl to be friends for so long without anything happened between them? Then it just escalated from there. Hunger for an explanation for such a sin was endless. After all, what was suicide but a murder of your own self, both physically and mentally.

Soon, Jim was isolated, the blame for Jane Crawford's suicide pinned on him. The teenager, of course, had no idea why she would do such a thing. The girl was always following him around and since she was never a bother, he didn't care much.

In the people eyes, Jim Cross was a deviant, a most disgusting pervert. What horror did he inflict on that poor girl behind close door, enough for her to commit such a sin.

He was a sinner, his soul forever tainted, nothing else matter.

Now, there was only one road left for Jim Cross. The teenager surrendered, and the kid was let go, he was reluctant but after some convincing, he finally went out to the police and his father.

It was Jim's turn, he walked out slowly, the bright sun shone on his face. It was blinding but strangely comforting. He raised the shield up and walked toward his father, the sheriff. Of course, the gun was still hidden in his hand.

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The teenager wondered, why was he doing all this, he wanted everything to end right now. But there was still one last trial.

The police started to relax. They all knew this boy after all, surely nothing bad would happen. As the sheriff approached his son, he mentally prepared a furious lecture for his son, but there would be no need for that.

Jim Cross dropped the shield to reveal the small revolver, sparkling under the fresh sun light. At that moment, time seemed to just stop as the teenager took aim and fire.

As blood and bits of brain spilled out of the bullet hole, Jim Cross knew his job was done.

The sheriff's plea fell to deaf ears as bullets riddled his own son. He rushed to the him, but it was to late, the wounds were fatal. He could see a single tear ran down the teenager's face.

But that tear wasn't out of pain, oh no. As Jim Cross saw the sheriff star on his father shirt one last time, he could see something or someone, it was poor Jane Crawford. Then it finally dawned on him, why did the girl decide to release herself from this world.

And so, he shed a tear for her, his heart filled with nothing but regret.

"I'm sorry"

Jim Cross wanted to say that a bullet had destroyed his throat. The teenager convulsed violently and finally breathed his last in this world.

Jim Cross opened his eyes to find himself in a bedroom of sort, decked out of wood, the place was rather cosy. What was going on, he was supposed to be dead.

Was this heaven? No, a sinner like him wouldn't be allowed to set foot there.

That left only one answer, this place was hell. Perhaps this was just a last moment peace, as a reminder of what comfort was like before chucking him into a boiling cauldron. Jim braced himself but nothing happened.

The wait was so excruciating it might as well be a punishment.

The walls around him, just a moment ago felt so warm was suddenly oppressive, pressing down upon him. The darkness started to become suffocating.

Soon, the teenager was stunted by a jolt of violent pains. They emitted from where he was shot, burning him from inside like hellfire. But the moment Jim held onto his chest, the pain suddenly disappeared, as sudden as its entrance. The teenager was confused, he couldn't even tell if his agony a second ago was real or not. Petrified with the fear of smite, he wanted to just cower and hide away.

But that wasn't an option, an idle hand was the devil's workshop.

Finally, having gathered enough courage, Jim staggered out to search for answer. As the teenager approached the door, he could hear a voice repeating again and again, each time slightly more distorted.

"seE, I TOlD yOu, THeRe is NotHIng doWn hERe"

"SEe, I tOLd YoU, tHEre iS noTHiNg dOwn herE"

"see, i ToLd YOu, TheRE Is NotHing DOwn heRe"

The sound itself was perverted, unnatural and somewhat horrifying. Was it the devil?

"That's voice, it's him" Another voice said calmly.

"Whoa, Doraemon, how many gadgets do you even have?"

"Hpm, more than you can imagine, and I made all of them"

What was going on here, this didn't seem to be hell. But then what kind of twisted dimension was this place then, what was that corrupted voice.

Fear flooded over Jim like a powerful wave but the teenager withstood it. He would find out what was going on. Gritting his teeth, he opened the door to a corridor of a wooden building. At the end of the hallway Jim could see three individuals. A bald man in a white suit and an intense looking person around's Jim age with a halberd on his back.

Then there was the girl in the middle, who was simply otherworldly. Her bright red hair seemed to glow in the dim light and so was her lush red lips and ruby eyes. The girl sat on the chair with both legs on it, holding onto a metal pad of sort, her nails were also of course coated in that bright passionate red.

Emerging from the dark, Jim Cross was faced with such a vibrant figure. But it was no angel for the red of blood and fire shone bright.

The girl looked straight at him, in her clear eyes were small white incomplete circles, rotating endlessly. She looked at him and with a sly smile, said.

"It seems like the sleeping beauty is finally awake"