“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been one week since my last confession.” Christian felt her knees begin to sting on the hardwood of the kneeler, but she was used to this feeling by now. She had been in this tiny room many times before, so much so that she could practically identify each scratch or imperfection that showed in the walls around her. She composed herself before she continued, “I have sinned many times by disobeying my mother, I have thought impure thoughts, and…” Her voice trailed off.

“Christian?” Said Father Peter from the other side of the tinted screen. He had taken her confession many, many times before- it had almost become routine. Hearing a pause from Christian lead him to believe that something was the matter. “Is there something wrong?”

“I…” Christian stumbled, her heart was twisted in knots and her words came out hesitantly. “I don’t know, Father. It’s just that… When we were told how to do confession, we were taught to confess the things we did wrong and the things we felt sorry for. I think I can’t confess right now.”

“Why is that?”

“Because I don’t feel sorry for it.” Christian blurted. “We’re supposed to confess the things we feel bad about, but I’m not sorry I disobeyed my mother.”

Father Peter rubbed his greying beard thoughtfully. “It is alright to confess things that you do not feel sorry about but still know were wrong.” He replied.

Christian took that in for a moment, before asking. “Why is it wrong to disobey my mother?”

Father Peter raised an eyebrow. “Because it is written that way.” He began. “Our mothers and fathers are there to guide us when we are young. They tell us to do and to not do things to keep us safe- to keep us from harm and from going down the wrong path.”

“But what if your parents tell you to do something that you don’t want to do, or what if ask you to do something bad?” Christian asked, she felt her heart beating quicker, she had never asked so many questions before. “What if they say, ‘hey you, jump off that bridge,’ is it a sin not to obey them just because they’re your parent?”

“Your parent should never ask you to do such a thing.” Father Peter countered. “Of course, it is not a sin to preserve your own life.”

Christian was confused, it didn’t make any sense to her anymore. It was like she was poking a hole into a balloon and all the rules she ever followed were beginning to seep out. “There’re so many rules!” She shouted. “Sometimes I think that the bible isn’t the holy scripture, sometimes I think it’s just a big rulebook we’re bound to!”

There was a long period of silence from the other end of the screen, Christian wondered if she had offended him. “You are right.”

“What?” Christian was taken off guard.

“You are right Christian; many things do not make sense.” Father Peter began, his voice was low and filled with purpose. “Not everything written in the bible makes sense. Many rules must be interrupted, some need to be changed, and there are other rules that we must ignore. But what is fundamental to our belief, to any belief for that matter, is the belief itself. For me, my belief is what makes me whole, it is what allows me to change the lives of the people around me for the better. I believe in what I am doing, so I know it to be true.”

“I…”

“Allow me to finish.” Father Peter interrupted. “That is my belief, Christian. But for you, that may be different. For me, these rules guide me to fulfil what I think is my purpose, but for you, they may seem to constrict you. You are not happy with these beliefs, that much is clear, they do not allow you to be what you want to be. Although I wish that there was something that I could do to change your mind, make you see the scripture the way I see it, you must make up your own mind. If you do not believe in what we teach, or what your mother teaches, you are under no obligation to follow them.”

Christian was speechless, this wasn’t something that she was expecting to hear. Deep down inside she felt a stirring, a cocktail of unease and apprehension was boiling over. But at the same time, she felt relieved. It was like someone had finally said the magic words and freed her from a terrible curse.

“Now,” Father Peter began again, softly. “Would you like to continue with your confession?”

Christian thought long and hard for a moment, then rose to her feet. “I… I don’t think I will, Father.”

...

Normally Chris had basic concern for the people around her, but with the events of today, no one could blame her for smoking on the bus. She thought about rolling down the window, but with the rain that had just started, so she reckoned that was a bad idea. So instead, she chose to indulge herself, despite the looks she got from the driver and some of the passengers. The smoke was the only thing that could calm her nerves and consequentially the only thing keeping her from having a breakdown. I wonder if I would scream out loud or break down into tears? She thought, taking a deep breath of nicotine. Hell, I’d probably start laughing.

Chris wasn’t sure if she was having the worst day ever, but she was confident it was in the top one-hundred- or at least an honorable mention. She had supposedly been disappearing from people since she woke up and had just taken a call from someone who claimed that they were the devil. This wasn’t how she pictured her day would go, even if she had a thousand years’ worth of predictions. It's something out of a nightmare- maybe she was still dreaming? No, the pinch didn’t work, damn.

Chris got off the bus, much to the glee of the smoke-filled passengers. Rain poured down on her as she made a mad rush to her apartment, Chris regretted not bringing an umbrella. She reached the door ready to tell Jess all about her really bad, shitty, no-good day when she realized something. She felt the empty space in her pocket, she had forgotten again.

“Babe, Babe, I’m locked out.” She spoke into the microphone, waiting for her inevitable verbal torture to begin. “Look, it’s raining, please be quick!”

The speaker buzzed. “Hello?”

“Babe, it’s me! I forgot my card again and it’s raining buckets out here!”

“Who’s there?”

“It’s me, Babe. Please come open the door?” The speaker was silent, Chris waited in agony as the rain pounded on top of her. She knew she had to have been resembling a wet puppy at the moment and she cursed the architect that forgot to put any sort of shelter at the door. “Hurry, please!”

“I’m…” Jess’s voice trailed off into static. “I’m…”

“Jess, are you alright? Can you hear me?”

“Who… are you?”

“It’s Chris! Your girlfriend?”

“I don’t know… I don’t know who you are.”

“What are you talking about, babe?” Chris was starting to get annoyed. “Please don’t joke right now, I’m sorry I forgot to find the card again!”

“I’m sorry.” Said Jess, hesitantly. “I don’t remember you.”

Chris was dumbfounded. “Yes, you do, Jess. It’s me! Chris, your girlfriend. You know, the girl who spilt a giant glass of tea on your lap? The girl who lives with you? The idiot who decided that they wanted to make their own vanilla pudding and spilt it all over the carpet? Jess, you know who I am, so quit pretending and let me in!”

The speaker was silent for a very long time, Chris would have hoped Jess was headed down to help her, but she could hear her breathing deeply on the other end. “I’m sorry, I don’t.” The answer came back. “Goodbye.”

“What? Wait, Jess? Jess, what’s wrong?” Chris shouted in the microphone, but no matter what she said she would get no response.

Chris couldn’t think about this right now, she had more pressing issues to deal with. If she stayed in this rain for much longer, she would surely catch something serious. She ran back to the bus stop where she was safe from the rain in its little hovel. Chris sat down on the little bench and just thought, that seemed to be the only thing she could do at the moment.

Why is she doing this to me? I know I forgot the card, but this is harsh. She took out another cigarette, only to realize that her lighter was out of fluid. Figures, I should have stolen a better one. Now, officially, today can’t get even worse. Jess… Why would you do this? You’ve never… Oh, I see. I’m not just disappearing, am I? It’s much deeper than that.

Chris put the cigarette in her mouth anyway, she had read about something in one of Jess’s textbooks called the ‘placebo effect’ and was willing it to happen to herself now. People can’t see me anymore, it’s possible that they are starting to forget me too. Oh, God… This is really happening, isn’t it? Mom was telling me the truth… I’m actually going to hell.

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

Chris sat alone with nothing but her dead phone, a half-empty packet of Marlboro’s, and her ugly neon green uniform. Soon the night came, and Chris was left without a bed or a place to go. The nearest hotel was miles away and even if she got there, she wouldn’t be able to afford a room. But this wasn’t the first time that Chis had been in this situation, it almost felt like déjà vu. Looking around she found that someone had left a newspaper behind, and it had fallen behind the bench. It was soaking wet, but you get what you get. Chris laid the newspaper down on the bench and rested her head on top of it as she curled her body into a ball. She was in luck; this bench was much more comfortable than the ones she had slept on before. Some sicko designers had made it so that a lot of park and city benches would have grooves in them so that they would become colder and discourage the homeless to sleep on them.

Laying there Chris remembered all those lonely nights when she had been cold and alone, wondering if she would wake up in the morning. Very few things had been good about those days, but she did remember how much she was comforted by looking up and seeing all the bright moon shimmering behind the clouds. If it could still hang there in the sky for all that time, surely she would be able to make it passed the night. But now there were only clouds, and Chris was sure she would wake up when the sun rose. It was the day after that concerned her.

…

She knew that it was happening again, but she could do nothing to stop it.

Chris felt as her body tighten as if a giant hand was squeezing her in its palm. She tried to wiggle and push her way out of whatever force was keeping her still, but she was paralyzed. Nothing she did mattered now, that she was certain of, now all she could do was suffer.

Something was pulling her down, it was like she was being pulled below the waves in the middle of a flood and there was no way to pull herself up for air. But here there was no air, there was no water, there was nothing at all- only numbness. She felt it creep along her body again, this time it spread faster and took hold sooner. For a moment Chris almost felt comforted by the feeling, maybe she would never have to feel anything ever again. But rushing in from somewhere deep below she began to feel the flame lite inside her body.

There have been a countless number of people who have met their demise in flame, those people were lucky. Flame acts quick, it spreads fast and consumes whatever it touches. Fire is ruthless, having no qualm with what it burns, its only intent is to fill the world in ash and rubble. But Chris did not have the luxury of a quick death, she did not receive the mercy of turning into ash and soot. The flame on Chris’s skin did not consume her, it only burned her- it was as if it were mocking her.

With every passing second, she wished it would be her last. She hoped that the bright blue flame that engulfed her body would finally take pity on her and let her go, but the flame was not kind. Through the agony she knew that she was steadily being pulled deeper and deeper in this place, and as she fell the pain got worse and worse.

The indescribable torment went on for what seemed like days, even weeks. Chris did not believe in God anymore, but now she prayed that he would kill her- end this pain. But he did not answer, the only response she got was the sound of the crackling of her own skin.

…

Chris did not wake up screaming as she had done before, her lungs had long since been deprived of air. Instead, she woke up falling on the cold hard cement, her body shaking and convulsing like someone was shocking her. The relief she felt to be awake was indescribable. The stern ground seemed to be a welcoming friend in the face of what she had just experienced. She would have cried for joy if her eyes had not run out of moisture. But laying there it slowly dawned on her, a dark revelation that shook her to her core even more than the dream did. Tomorrow she might never wake up from that nightmare, tomorrow her dream could become her reality.

She stood to her feet and tried to compose herself. It’s okay, Chris. You’ve still got today. We can change this. She thought, only half believing herself. We have to change this, and there’s only one person who knows how to do that.

Chris had remembered the location of Occam’s Bar, her habit of counting houses on the way to work had its benefits. All she needed to do was get there, which seemed like it was going to be tricky. If the bus driver had not been able to see her last morning, chances are that it wasn’t going to happen today. The thought that she would have to walk was dreadful to her, her body was already ringing from sleeping on a bench for an entire night. But as she resigned herself to her fate, she got very lucky.

A man approached the bus stop and sat down directly beside her. Just as Chris had thought, the man payed her no mind. It was like she was invisible; Chris would’ve been excited by this prospect under different circumstances. As the bus rolled in it stopped for the man who quickly boarded it, followed even quicker by Chris who just barely dodged the closing doors behind her. She felt like a spy on a top-secret mission, she only hoped that no one would choose her seat and wonder what they were sitting on.

The bus ride was quick, and Chris nearly missed her exit, forgetting for just a moment that no one was going to stop and wait for her. Chris surveyed her surroundings, Hello 4th Street, it isn’t nice to meet you.

Chris had become very familiar with this particular street, being on the way to work she must have seen it a thousand times by now. But she only needed to see it once to know to stay away from it. In the old days, this street had housed many small businesses and back then it thrived. But like water sanding down rocks, eventually that all changed. The businesses began to fail, the people started to leave, and 4th Street became a wasteland. The buildings seemed to slowly be falling down as if they were tired of holding their own weight. The road was littered with garbage, as tends to be the case when no one is around to pick it up. Chris hated being here, she felt uneasy. It was as if the ghosts of the people that once thrived here were looking at her walk passed the ruins of their old lives.

But among all the empty buildings and drifting garbage sat one exception. Chris approached it now and took a deep breath when she saw its sign.

Welcome to Occam’s Bar!

The Simplest Solution to a Good Drink!

Occam’s Bar sat between two larger buildings and the differences were uncanny. While all the other structures were rundown and abandoned, the bar was immaculate. Its clean and glistening deep red paint drowned out everything that was around it, as though the street itself didn’t exist. Chris shuddered; she didn’t like it.

She approached the door and reached out her hand to touch its curling ivory handle. Am I really about to meet the Devil? Chris thought to herself. Memories of all the lessons and teachings that she had been taught for her entire childhood came flooding back to her. She had been told many things about the Devil like how they will tempt you with desire or make you do things that you shouldn’t do. Others said that they were the root cause of everything bad that ever happened throughout all of the time. But the one thing that they all taught was to stay as far away from the Devil as you could, which was the one thing that Chris was about to do right now.

Chris didn’t know what she would see when she opened the door. It could be that she was walking right into the gates of hell or maybe she was about to meet a tall, red man with a giant fork. I hate to say it but, I don’t have anything to lose.

The inside of the bar was as remarkable as the outside. Tables lined the walls made with a smooth dark wood that matched with the long bar that sat in front of shelves of the nicest liquor. The air was traced with a blend of cigar smoke and whisky and the lights dimly lit the dark red walls. Some patrons had already gathered and arranged themselves in various seats, despite it still being the day. Chris reasoned that it made sense for more people to be at the bar on a Saturday morning than what she would expect, or maybe it was just always like this.

“Hello, Chris!” Called a voice from the back of the bar. “Over here!”

Chris stood still; this was the moment she would meet the Devil. She hated admitting it to herself, but Chris felt terrified to turn and face them. Every beat of her heart told her she should run and get away from here, but her mind knew she had nowhere else to go. So, slowly, she turned to face the person who she had spent her whole life avoiding.

The Devil sat alone in their seat, welcomingly gesturing towards an empty chair across from them. On their face they wore a smile that was subdued but cheerful, they seemed to be wearing it very well. On their body, they had placed clothes that wouldn’t be too out of the ordinary, a dark suit with a long red scarf around their neck. They had chosen to wear eyes that lured in the gaze, to some the warm look of a friend and to others the predator preparing to pounce. Each movement seemed rehearsed, like an actor in a play, yet still done with ease.

Chris slowly approached them, acting as calmly as she could, and slid into the chair. “You’ve made it.” The Devil beamed. “I’m glad you decided to take me up on my offer.”

“Y-you said you could tell me what was happening to me?” Chris tried to sound brave and failed.

“I did.” Said the Devil, adjusting their smile to grin. “But first, would you like something to drink? It’s on me, of course.”

“I-I can’t.” Chris hated herself for stammering.

“Ah yes, I should’ve remembered. Not twenty-one yet, my mistake.” The Devil thought for a moment before standing up. “But I think that can be ignored, just for right now at least. After all, chances are that you aren’t going to be able to enjoy that particular milestone.”

Chris watched as the Devil moved their body over to the bar and began to speak with the bartender. Get it together, Chris. You can’t be scared now; this is your only opportunity to get some answers.

After a minute the Devil came back with drinks in either hand. “Here you go, I made a guess at what you’d like.” The Devil guided their hand and sat a Bloody Mary in front of Chris.

Chris didn’t go to take a sip, instead, they held their ground. “My mom always taught me that the Devil would try and lead me astray. Is this what this is? Trying to get me to commit some sort of sin?”

Hearing what Chris had said they let out a little chuckle. “That would be clever, now wouldn’t it. But no, I’m not leading you astray, Chris. I just find that any conversation becomes much more enjoyable when alcohol is involved.” The Devil had put a darkly colored drink to their lips and to all observers they seemed to be drinking it.

“I need to know what’s happening to me.” Demanded Chris, being as direct as possible. “I need to know how to stop it.”

“I think you already know what’s happening to you. You’ve felt your nightmares, you’ve seen the flames, and you know where you’re going tomorrow. Your mother may have warned you much too late, but she was telling you the truth, you are going to hell- just sooner and slower than you pictured.”

“Then what can I do to stop it… There has to be a way.”

The Devil chuckled. “I could tell you how to stop it if I wanted to, but you wouldn’t understand me if I did.”

“Then make me understand.”

“It’s a long story, I’m afraid.”

“I have time.”

“Do you?”

Chris looked up at the clock and her heart sank to her feet. Time always flies when time is of the essence, and it seemed Chris’s time was eager to get away from her. Already it was passed noon, whatever nightmare that she had experienced must have kept her asleep for longer than it should have. Chris tried to sturdy herself.

“I can only hope.” She replied, picking up her drink and taking a sip. She almost hated how much she actually liked it.

“That’s what I love to hear.” The Devil leaned back in their chair and pulled their mouth further back into a big wide smile. “Now… how should I start? I know! In the beginning…”