THIS PUNISHMENT MAKES HELL LOOK GOOD -Flash Fiction

 THIS PUNISHMENT MAKES HELL LOOK GOOD

I enter her body, and our souls unite. If I am right, this is the university sophomore, victim number three. All her thoughts, feelings, and movements become mine. That is my punishment. To be there when I kill her. She controls this journey, and I am here to witness it through her. My punishment has locked my soul into her body to experience everything she feels. Victim three looks at the computer and rubs her eyes.

"I don't know if I can stay awake much longer," we say. I feel her compounding exhaustion as our eyelids start to close. She digs her nails into her arm and pinches. We jerk. The pain is minimal. "Stupid Professor Lynch. Does he really think he is the only teacher? There is no way I am going to get this assignment done." We drink coffee, and the bitter liquid swishes in our mouth.

"Ahh, that tastes good. I miss coffee. It could use a little cream and sugar." I think inside my soul.

"Bam! Bang! Clank!" Noise comes from the kitchen. That must be the mortal-me's entrance.

Victim number three tenses, our muscles locking. Immediately, heat expands over us.

"What is that?" we whisper as our breathing shallows and our fingers tingle.

We look back at our computer. "Maybe it's nothing."

"Oh, it's not nothing," I think privately in my soul. "If you had any idea what I was about to do to you, you would run!"

We rub our eyes again, and our breathing starts to normalize.

"Thud."

"Ouch."

That must be when I hit my knee on the kitchen table. Stupid table.

We stand up. We wildly look around. "That was a man's voice. I ain't making this up. What do I do? What do I do?" We look around her room again. "There is nowhere to hide. What am I going to do? What am I going to do? I should call 911." We dive to the bed and grab the phone. We pick it up, but the screen is black. "No. No. No. It can't be dead. No."

What would have happened if she had made that call? So much would have changed for both of our lives. Knowing what lies ahead of me, I wish she would have made that call. Fear grips us, one like I have never felt before. Victims one and two were afraid, but not like this. We tremble. Our breathing becomes so erratic that our head becomes dark and faint. I feel the fear as victim three does, and it is horrific.

The door flies open, and there I am. We stumble backward, and I feel us piss our pants. Our stomach clenches up, and our whole body tightens like a giant Charlie horse. It's beyond painful.

"Well, what do we have here?" The voice of a monster comes from the mortal-me. We don't look up but hide our head under a pillow.

"Victim three," I try to scream. "Fight! You are making it too easy. I am afraid of confrontation. Fight me. You would probably win!"

We roll into a ball next to the bed.

The mortal-me turns us over. A medley of fear grips us. I feel victim three's paralytic, muscle constricting, stomach tightening dread. This time I also feel my soul's fear. I know what the mortal-me will do, and I want to stop him, but I can't.

Mortal-me lifts the pillow from our face. His dry hands rub along our arms as he says creepy stuff I don't remember saying. We look at him. Mortal-me is a rabid bear who doesn't look human or capable of human emotion. I wasn't. There was only one emotion I could feel then, and it was as selfish as any human on earth could be. Mortal-me pulls out a switchblade. We scream with an intensity I didn't know was possible. Mortal-me seems fueled by fear. I was. Now, that same fear rips my soul apart. I want to make it stop. It's a horrific force that overcomes us.

We look down as the switchblade slices into our heart. The piercing, burning, throbbing pain is indescribable. The mortal-me pulls out the knife and rams it into our liver. More pain enters us. There is so much pain. I didn't know it was possible to feel so much pain. This goes on for what feels like two eternities, and everything goes black. Victim three has died. Our spirits float out of her. She doesn't see me as a crowd of souls surround and comfort her. Instantly all her pain and worry are replaced by her sweet reunion.

My death was not like that. Dark shadows met me. They fought over my soul and thrust me into the most horrific hell imaginable.

As it has played out so far, my hell has sent me into the world of my victims. I have already experienced the death of victim one, two, and now three. The mortal-me wouldn't have cared, but the spiritual-me feels every emotion as the victim had. I take on their pain, sorrow, fear, and everything else.

After my victim dies, I am sent into the body of their closest living relative. I will experience the pain the relative feels when they learn their loved one had been murdered by mortal-me. I stay with them for life, sharing every time they missed their loved one. Every time they cry for them. All their thoughts and misery. Every single ounce of it I experience. Then, when they die, I am sent to the victim's next living relative to go through the same process. I will take the feelings of every person connected to the victim, even some random smuck who had heard about the murder on TV and is now scared to walk alone at night. I even get to experience that fear.

The last two victims' deaths and the sorrow of all those connected to them were brutal. I would take fire and brimstone over this. I am sorry for what I did. Living the first victim's death broke me. I regret it all. Yet, that realization doesn't stop me from going through victim three's death. As I enter her mother's body, I want to cry. She has so much joy in her right now. We are thinking about the new job we are about to start.

"Life is at its best. I never knew life could be so sweet," we say to our reflection in the mirror. We straighten the business dress on our hips.

"Knock. Knock. Knock." We look at our watch. It's five in the morning.

"Who is visiting me this early?" Our heart races as we make our way to the front door. We open it to two police officers.

"Mrs. Martinez?"

Our body shakes, and our mind goes blank.

"Yes."

"We have bad news about your daughter Katie Martinez."

Katie, that is right. That was victim three's name.

It feels like a steel band has wrapped around our heart.

"Great," I think inside my soul. "Let's see. I believe victim two had over four thousand people her death affected. I wonder how many friends, and so forth, victim three will have? I don't want to go through this again. I should have stuck to accounting and not become a serial killer. Maybe I should have taken up MMA or cliff diving to find the excitement in life. I can't keep doing this. I am sure eternity will end before I experience the feelings of all twenty-seven of my victims and those affected by their death. This punishment makes the idea of hell like a vacation."

"Is there anything we can do?" A police officer asks Mrs. Martinez.

"Yes!" I try to scream. "Stop the mortal-me before I kill anyone else."

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This Punishment Makes Hell Look Good

By Stephanie Daich