Superbia

Pride. The original and most serious of the seven deadly sins, as well as a source for all the others. The excessive belief in one’s own abilities which interferes with the relationship with God. In simple English, thinking you are better than you really are; better at what does not matter. It is just misguided confidence. Ah, it brings me joy to bring punishment to the people of this kind. One of them was a girl named Sharon McGintyre.

         Sharon was a queen. Or at least a queen in her head; she got everything her heart desired. Boys. Clothes. Money. You name it, she had it. All of that caused her to become pig-headed and ignorant; cold-hearted even. She was once a young, sweet girl too but, she turned out worse than some. Now, her soul is mine for the taking.

          On the 23^rd June 1999, I was blessed with her presence at the asylum. I could smell the sweet, sensual aroma of sin all over her. She shivered in fear - and might I add, peed her pants �" when she saw me. She knew then; her fate was sealed. Strapping her to a wheelchair, we made our way down to the deepest part of the asylum. Superbia. The lights in the elevator shaft flickered on and off, making Sharon fidget nervously; her heart rate rising.

              Arriving on the S floor screams echoed from every direction. I savored the malicious music of the darkness that seeped every area of the floor. I wheeled her chair through the maze of rights and lefts; going deeper and deeper. We finally reached the center where my personal wheel-like table stood. I brushed back Sharon’s hair and whispered in her ear, “Welcome to the rest of your life, sweetheart.”

           I unstrapped her and tied her to the wheel; spinning her over and over for good measure. She kept on screaming for help and for mercy from God. So, I told her, “No God can save you now. You’re mine.” I started ripping off her clothes, making her scream louder. “I thought you enjoyed this, mon chéri.” I groped while she helplessly tried to break free from the bonds. Letting her go, I went up to pick up my hammer and dragged it noisily across the floor to her.

           I made her spin again, raising my hammer and striking down on her leg. The satisfying sound of her breaking bones mixing with her blood curling screams; just splendid. I hit her again and again until her blood splattered everywhere. Her body lay limp on the wheel but, what she didn’t know was she couldn’t get away from me ever. Touching her chest I whispered an incitation in Latin. Slowly, her bones started to heal and she eventually came back to the living dead. “Nobody escapes from here, love. For you your bones will be broken over and over again as long as Hell burns.