Sin and Retribution

I pushed open the bedroom door and began my usual descent down the carpeted stairs, each step echoing softly in the quiet house. At the bottom of the stairs, a full-length mirror hung against the wall, reflecting my weary image. Grey strands peppered through my hair, baggy eyes that spoke of sleepless nights, and a face etched with lines of nihilism and regret stared back at me. I looked at my reflection, disappointed by the man I had become. This wasn’t someone I was proud of.

Shaking off the unsettling reflection, I continued walking through the corridor. My eyes caught a framed photograph hanging prominently on the wall. There we were—Nora, my wife; Eve, our daughter; and me—all dressed in our Christmas pajamas, smiling genuinely under the twinkling lights of the tree. The joy in that picture was palpable. It was captured a few years ago, a snapshot of a time when happiness seemed effortless. Somehow, over the last couple of years, we’d lost that happiness. The laughter had faded, replaced by silent dinners and unspoken frustrations.

Entering the kitchen, I saw Nora sitting on the counter, a half-empty bottle of red wine in her hand. Her usually warm eyes were clouded with concern as she looked up when I approached. I smiled even though I was a bit surprised. “I didn’t realize you were already back from work,” I said, attempting casualness.

She offered a small, strained smile in return. “I took half the day off. We need to talk, John.” Without waiting for a response, she poured a glass of wine and handed it to me. The rich aroma of the red was both inviting and concerning, given the look on her face.

I took the glass, the coolness of the wine pressing against my palm. “What’s going on, Nora?”

She took a deep breath, her hands trembling slightly. “I fell in love with someone.” Her words hit me like a punch to the gut, leaving me momentarily speechless. For a split second, I thought she was joking.

“I... I don’t understand,” I stammered, my heart racing. “When did this happen?”

“It started a few months ago,” she continued, her voice breaking. “I’ve been unhappy for a while, but I felt trapped because we have Eve. At first, it was just sex, but then I started developing real feelings for him.”

I tried to ask her more questions, but all I could manage was stammering with shock and anger. I swallowed hard, trying to process her confession. “We should talk more about this. I need to take a walk first to center myself. Maybe we should schedule some therapy, work through whatever is going on.”

Nora shook her head, her eyes welling up with tears. “I’m leaving today John…. He has to travel to Paris…….”. She took a pause and then, “and I’ve decided I’m going with him for a few months. I’m here to take some things and pack a bag.”

Anger surged through me, boiling over. “How can you do this? You’re destroying our lives. What about Eve?”

She looked away, her voice barely above a whisper. “I feel suffocated. We haven’t been intimate in six months. You’re constantly smoking marijuana, you have no passion. You’re dead inside, John, and you’re killing me too.”

Desperation clawed at me. “Who is he, Nora? Who are you seeing?”

She hesitated, her gaze darting to the window as if seeking escape. “It’s Mike.”

My blood ran cold. Mike—my friend. It couldn’t be, could it? I know Mike was heading to Paris soon to meet his family. It couldn’t be? But the look in her eyes told me the truth all too clearly.

Before I could gather my thoughts, Nora began to say something else, but it was already too late. Rage consumed me, blinding my judgment. My wife and my best friend. Destroying my entire life. I grabbed a knife from the counter, my hands shaking with fury. Without thinking, I plunged the knife into her neck. Blood erupted, splattering across the countertop as she collapsed to the floor.

I didn’t notice Eve had woken up from her nap, probably because of the shouting. She stood at the back of the kitchen, her small face streaked with tears, witnessing every horrifying moment. My breath hitched, heart pounding in my ears. I turned to reach out to her, to comfort her, but everything around me began to blur.

In an instant, I was back at the top of the stairs, my breath coming in shallow gasps. 

Was I just dreaming? Shaking off the unsettling feeling, I forced myself to move forward, trying to convince myself it was just a nightmare. Thank God that was just a dream, I thought desperately. Taking a deep breath, I began my descent down the carpeted stairs.

As I reached the bottom of the stairs, my gaze was drawn once again to the mirror hanging on the wall with my reflection. 

I continued walking through the corridor. My eyes again caught the framed photograph hanging prominently on the wall. Of Nora, Eve, and me. A familiar pang of regret twisting in my chest. 

Entering the kitchen, I saw Nora sitting on the counter, a half-empty bottle of red wine in her hand. Why does this feel so familiar? She says we need to talk.

She poured a glass of wine and handed it to me. The rich aroma of the red mingling with the lingering scent of old memories. This feels like déjà vu.

I took the glass, the same coolness of the wine pressing against my palm, feeling a chill run down my spine. “What’s going on, Nora?”

She took a deep breath, her hands trembling slightly. “I fell in love with someone.” No, this can't be happening again, my mind screamed. Her words hit me again like a punch to the gut, making me forget the déjà vu feeling. 

We have the same conversation from my dream. She feels trapped? Trapped by what? Anger and confusion swirled within me, making it hard to focus.

As I tried to gather my thoughts, memories began to flood back, unbidden and relentless. Did I have a dream? No, I saw this coming. I remembered how Nora used to laugh, even at Mike’s stupid jokes during our last few dinners together. The sound of her genuine laughter now felt like a knife twisting in my heart. I recalled the nights we hosted parties, the clinking of glasses and the hum of conversations. How once, after a particular party, I noticed her and Mike at the kitchen counter washing dishes. Nora was running her hand around Mike’s arm, her laughter unguarded and free. Had I missed the signs? The realization hit me like a tidal wave, intensifying the rage simmering beneath my surface. How could I have been so blind?

She again says, “It’s Mike.” Mike? I knew it. The word hung in the air, heavy with betrayal and disbelief.

Rage consumed me, blinding my judgment. My vision tunneled as fury took over. I grabbed a knife from the counter, my hands trembling with a mixture of fear and uncontrollable anger. I plunged the knife into Nora’s neck. Blood erupted, spraying across the countertop in a sickening arc as she collapsed to the floor. What have I done? 

Eve stood at the back of the kitchen, her small face streaked with tears, witnessing every horrifying moment. I turned to reach out to her, to comfort her, but everything around me began to blur, as the loop prepared to reset.

I was again back at the top of the stairs. This time, the shock was even more intense. I stood there, tears streaming down my face, heart heavy with despair. This can't be happening. I thought desperately. Without a moment's hesitation, I turned and ran down the stairs this time, driven by a mix of fear and determination to find answers.

As I reached the bottom of the stairs, I was met with the same reflection in the mirror. But this time, something felt different. My eyes bloodshot from tears. The family photograph caught my eye once more. There’s no longer any doubt—it’s happening again, I thought.

Entering the kitchen, Nora was once again sitting on the counter, a glass of wine in her hand. “Nora, did we just talk?” I asked, my voice trembling not just from fear but from a dawning realization.

She looked at me, confusion evident in her eyes. “No, John. You were sleeping and just walked down the stairs. I did want to talk to you. Are you feeling okay?”

“You’re leaving me. You’re in love with Mike,” I declared, my voice breaking with a mix of anxiety and hurt.

Nora’s eyes widened in shock. “Yes,” she replied. “How did you know? Did Mike talk to you already?”

As she was about to speak more, the room seemed to hold its breath. Time froze around me, the seconds stretching into an eternity. Nora was completely frozen, her expression locked in a mixture of fear and sadness. I glanced at the clock—it had stopped ticking. Suddenly, the air grew unnaturally cold, and a shadow loomed ominously behind Nora. A demon materialized, his presence menacing and unyielding. His skin glowed a deep, molten red, like flowing lava, casting flickering shadows that danced ominously across the room. His face was a grotesque mask of horror, eyes burning like smoldering embers and a perpetual snarl that sent shivers down my spine. Massive, twisted horns curled from his forehead, framing a mouth filled with sharp, tiger-like teeth that gleamed with a sinister light.

I screamed. The acrid scent of sulfur filled my nostrils as he stepped forward, his voice a guttural growl that resonated with malevolence. “Welcome to your personal hell, John,” he intoned, his voice devoid of mercy, as the flickering shadows seemed to close in around me. “This is where you must confront your greatest sin, over and over again.” I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, the reality of my eternal punishment sinking in.

I backed away, terror gripping me. “No…. No…. I don’t want this. Please, let me go,” I pleaded, my voice cracking under the weight of fear.

“You are bound to relive this moment until you understand the depth of your guilt and seek true redemption,” he replied. “You must go through with the murder, again and again, until you understand.”

Anger shot through me, making me forget the fear that gripped me. “What if I refuse?”

The demon's eyes bore into mine, unflinching. “Then I will keep whipping you, and your suffering will be eternal.” With a swift motion, he raised his hand, and a burning whip materialized in his grasp. It lashed out, striking my back with excruciating pain. The pain is unbearable, I thought as I screamed, feeling like molten lava seared my skin. Each lash seemed to burn deeper. “No! Please, stop!” I cried out, tears mixing with the burning agony.

The only escape I saw was to comply. With tears streaming down my face, I grabbed the knife once more, my hands trembling with a mixture of fear and fury. This is my only way out, I thought desperately. I plunged the blade into Nora’s neck again. Blood erupted, as she collapsed to the floor.

I knew Eve was behind me, witnessing every horrifying moment. I could not face her. But the demon grabbed my head with his hands and made me look at the crying image of my daughter.

In an instant, I was back at the top of the stairs, the loop resetting once more. Tears dripped down my face as the realization sank deeper. I was in Hell, an eternal cycle of pain and remorse that I was destined to endure.

—-----

I couldn’t keep track anymore of how many loops had passed. Each time, I was at the top of the stairs, the same haunting reflection in the mirror, the same family photo staring back at me. Every loop was more torturous than the last, each iteration peeling away another layer of my sanity. With every descent down the stairs, the tension in the kitchen built anew, Nora’s confession echoing in my ears, and the knife felt heavier in my hand. Blood splattered, Eve’s sobs pierced my heart, and the loop reset, dragging me back to the beginning.

But with each cycle, fragments of my past emerged, unearthing buried memories I had long tried to forget. Flashbacks surged through my mind—our wedding day, vibrant and full of hope. I was a young, passionate man with dreams of building something great, of being an entrepreneur who would change the world. The excitement in my eyes mirrored Nora’s, for our future together.

Then reality took its toll. Instead of starting a company, I found myself standing in front of a classroom, lecturing to indifferent students. The spark that once fueled my ambitions dimmed, replaced by a pervasive sense of unfulfillment. I turned to marijuana to dull the gnawing dissatisfaction, becoming lazy and disconnected. My dreams faded into obscurity, overshadowed by the monotony of everyday life and raising a child. Slowly, I neglected our relationship, letting the distance grow until it suffocated us both.

Each loop forced me to confront these painful truths. It was my fault, I realized. I let my dreams die, I let our love wither. I became someone I despised, someone incapable of sustaining the passion Nora deserved. The weight of my actions crushed me, the guilt intensifying with every repetition. I saw how my apathy drove Nora to seek happiness elsewhere, how my inaction led to the unraveling of our family.

Finally, I decided. No more descending into this endless cycle of violence and regret. I took a deep breath, feeling the cold air fill my lungs, and faced Nora with newfound clarity. “Nora, it’s my fault. I should have worked harder at our relationship, at myself. I let everything slip away because I was too lost to care.”

Nora looked at me with a mixture of confusion and sorrow, her eyes searching mine for answers I couldn’t fully articulate. “John, what do you mean?”

Before I could respond, the air around us shifted. The oppressive atmosphere thickened, and the temperature plummeted. The demon returned, his presence more menacing than ever. His molten red skin flickered like flowing lava.

His burning eyes and snarl again sent shivers down my spine. “John, you must continue.” 

Fear gripped me, but amidst the terror, a flicker of determination ignited. “I realize it was my mistake,” I shouted back, my voice breaking with desperation. “I’ve forgiven Nora. I understand now. It was ME who destroyed our family.”

The demon’s expression remained unchanged, his eyes piercing into my very soul. “You are bound to relive this moment until you understand the depth of your guilt and seek true redemption.”

Anger surged through me, but this time, I understood. “I accept responsibility for my actions. I deserve your punishment. I deserve to burn in hell fire.”

With a swift motion, the demon cracked his whip, the sound slicing through the silence like a knife. The first strike hit my back with excruciating pain. I cried out, tears streaming down my face, my body writhing in agony. I deserve this, I thought, the pain a manifestation of my own self-loathing. “I DESERVE IT. I DESERVE YOUR PUNISHMENT.”

The demon continued to strike, each blow intensifying the searing pain, the burning lava leaving permanent scars on my flesh. My screams echoed through the hellish landscape, blending with the crackling flames that seemed to rise from the very ground beneath me. Each strike was a reminder of my failures, my inaction, and the lives I had shattered.

As the whipping persisted, something extraordinary began to happen. The world around me started to falter. The flames flickered and distorted, breaking into pixels. The demon’s form began to waver, his once-solid presence becoming pixelated and unstable. The environment around me fragmented, the edges of reality blurring and distorting. Bits of the hellish landscape vanished slowly as pixels flowed like water into the void.

—--------

A blinding light engulfed me. My screams echoed, but they transformed into agonized cries as I jolted awake, gasping for air. I found myself in a stark, tiled basement room of a hospital, the smell of antiseptics heavy in the air. Cold metal pins were secured into my temples, a large wire snaking from a nearby machine into my head. Two male nurses held me down, their grips firm as I continued to shout and cry in agony.

Days blurred into nights as I remained hooked to IVs, my body numb and unresponsive. The vivid images of torment faded, replaced by a deep, oppressive fatigue. I didn’t speak to anyone, trapped in a silent haze of confusion and residual fear. My mind replayed fragments of hell, the endless loops of guilt and punishment haunting my every thought.

One morning, the door creaked open, and a doctor along with my lawyer entered the room. Their expressions were calm, yet there was a hint of empathy in their eyes. The doctor approached my bedside, concerned but firm in his words. “John, you’ve completed the Hell 2.0 rehabilitation program,” he began. “ It might take a little while for your memory to return but you volunteered to undergo this experimental simulation through your Neural-Up-Link to fully understand the consequences of your actions. The program is designed to make participants confront their crimes and seek genuine redemption.”

The lawyer nodded, adding, “This was part of your plea deal, John. Your successful completion has earned you a reduction of 15 years from your life sentence.”