Her voice quavered... "Hell is not the place for a soul such as he-". Eyes widened. A chuckle escaped my lips, even as I concealed myself from sight. Opinions vary, I thought to myself. An incredulous Bubba seemed to take a minute to compose himself before he answered her, shocked momentarily that I evoked this reaction from anyone, much less - Her.
He paused briefly, to consider the proper response, then smiled despite himself and replied: "Hell- to some- is a curse, a prison, a punishment... For men like him- and me, for that matter- we consider that final destination simply as a matter of respect." She drank in his words, but her attentiveness was lost on him, his eyes had glazed into the distance of the flames, as he perhaps beheld his eternal reward in his mind's eye.
I shared the feeling.
No one else gathered around the fire spoke. Greg grunted as if affirmation to the absurdity of it all. She bit her lip tightly as her image of me, expanded, contorted, into something different in the silence of those surrounding her, those who she expected to hold me in the greatest regard of all.
I shifted backwards, in the darkness, and slid away in the shadows of the firelight. There was work to be done. And never a better time than while I was dead.
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