Chapter 7 - Gluttony and Anger

In the silence that followed, as the shadows of Gluttony and Wrath dissipated around me, an idea surfaced in my mind—an idea I could no longer ignore. Hell was a place of torment and tragedy, but it was also a place of choices. I had seen it in each of the seven deadly sins, in their pain and guilt. They hadn't been born to be what they were. They had been shaped, distorted by their own tragedies. Yet, even so, something within me refused to believe that all was lost. Even here, even in the depths of Hell, there was still a spark of something that could be redeemed.

I was not a man of faith. I didn't see myself as someone who would pray for a divine solution. But at that moment, as the echo of fury faded and Gluttony's hunger receded like a distant specter, a small voice, almost a whisper, made me think of the only being capable of doing something.

Jesus. That name reverberated in my mind. It wasn't the answer to everything, but it was, without a doubt, the last hope I had.

"Jesus," I murmured, more to myself than to anyone else. The word came out heavy, laden with a mix of skepticism and faint hope. If anyone could pull these souls out of the abyss, it was Him.

I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to summon something greater than myself, something beyond the pain and anger that surrounded me. Silence enveloped the space, and for an instant, I almost believed an answer would come. The expectation, for a brief second, was tangible. But, as always, Hell's expectations are thwarted.

Nothing happened.

Nothing except for a soft, almost inaudible sound. It was the sound of laughter. But not mocking laughter, like the one Wrath might have in her voice. It was a calm laugh, quiet but still filled with deep pain. It was Wrath, who now, somehow, had found a kind of lightness I hadn't thought possible.

"You think He would come for us?" Wrath's voice, now softer and closer, echoed in my ears. I turned to her and saw her smiling—not with the angry smile I expected, but with something more... human.

"Believe me," she continued, her voice laced with a kind of melancholy that hadn't existed before. "I never expected Him to come. Or to take us out of here. But maybe... maybe that's what I need to understand. It's not about being saved. It's not about being forgiven. It's about accepting that there's no way back. We are what we are now, no matter how much time we spend here."

Gluttony, who until then seemed lost in her own void, raised her gaze to me. Her eyes were empty, but there was a kind of understanding in them—a silent acceptance of her condition.

"Salvation isn't for everyone, is it?" Gluttony said in a calm voice, as though she had finally resigned herself to her eternal search. "I sought something I could never find. There was never anything that could fill the hole inside me, because that hole is part of who I am."

I watched them, now entirely different from how I had seen them before. Wrath, once a storm, was now calmer. More charismatic, as though she had discovered the importance of accepting her own nature. Gluttony, once a ravenous shadow, now seemed like a soul who understood the extent of her own pain.

I had invoked Jesus, and what I had expected was a divine solution. But Hell, as always, showed me a harsher truth: not all souls are meant to be saved. Some are shaped by pain, hunger, anger, and maybe that was all that was left of them. Perhaps that was all they would ever be.

The absence of Jesus was a blow I didn't allow myself to feel. Instead, I observed the two figures before me. They had been shaped by their tragedies, and it wasn't my intervention or the presence of a divine being that would change them. They, perhaps, were already the truest forms of what humanity could reach. And as much as I wanted to believe in redemption for them, the reality of Hell was a harsh and merciless lesson: salvation wasn't for everyone. Some souls were already beyond any hope.

I didn't know if I felt relieved or condemned by this truth. What remained for me now was to press forward, delving even deeper into the abyss that surrounded me, trying to find some meaning among the ruins Hell presented to me. Hell was a place of tragedy, and the souls that dwelled there were trapped in cycles that no one else could break.

But I would continue. I would always continue. Because even in Hell, there is no end to what is lost.

The Second Circle stretched out before us, the warm wind that seemed endless, like a never-ending ache. The lustful souls, trapped in their own desires, fought among themselves in a storm of intertwined bodies, unable to escape the eternal tempest. But, unlike the merciless storm that unfolded around us, something else was forming in my company. Wrath and Gluttony, who had been such imposing and fierce figures, were now undergoing a strange transformation.

Wrath, with her blazing eyes, had lost that intensity of blind rage. She seemed more... peaceful, paradoxically, and her steps, once heavy, were now light, as though she had stopped carrying the burden of her outbursts. There was a curiosity in her, something beginning to shine through her mask of fury.

Gluttony, on the other hand, was... quiet. The emptiness in her gaze didn't seem as ravenous as before. She walked like a shadow, her gaze distant, as if lost in unreachable thoughts. But there was something human in her, something that reminded me that not every void is insatiable.

"You still think you can convince us," Wrath said, breaking the silence as we walked. Her voice, though soft, still held a tone of defiance. "You think you can pull us out of here, don't you? That heaven would take us back. You're pathetic."

I looked at her, an ironic smile on my face. "Don't fool yourself. I'm not trying to save anyone. I'm not a hero, as you imagine. I'm no savior. I'm just trying to understand what happened to you."

Gluttony, walking beside me, let out a low, bitter laugh. "Understand? How do you think you'll understand a hole this deep? A void so vast that even Hell can't fill it?"

I shook my head. "I think I'll try anyway."

"Ah, the paladin of empathy," Wrath mocked. "You know, you should give yourself an award for trying to understand the damned. Maybe you'll earn the title of 'Philosopher of Hell' somewhere."

"Who needs an award when you can simply laugh at everything?" I retorted, impatient with another word game. "What's more amusing: trying to fill the void or admitting it will never be filled?"

Wrath smiled, but it wasn't an expression of anger. It was amusement, as though the prospect of others' suffering had become almost... entertaining to her. "Oh, I'd say the fun lies in realizing we're here for a reason, even if we don't always understand it. And that reason has nothing to do with justice or forgiveness. It's about... what we do when we can no longer live with ourselves."

"It's funny," Gluttony interrupted, with an ironic smile. "When you think Hell will give you an answer, you discover that Hell is just a part of your own shattered mirror."

I looked at the two of them, somewhat skeptical. What remained of Wrath was a curious piece. She was no longer that blind fury that exploded at every provocation. She now laughed at everything. She accepted that anger had lost its power, and with that, she found something stranger—perhaps even more dangerous—than before.

"Do you think this 'peace' from rage is a victory?" I asked.

Wrath laughed again, but it felt more reflective than mocking. "No. It's a lesson. A lesson that we can control what we feel, but we can never escape what we are. I... I am Wrath, yes. But look, it's not fun to always shout. Sometimes, just laughing at others' misfortunes is what keeps me alive."

"Is that it?" I said, trying to understand the change. "You just accept everything? Is it that simple?"

"No, it's not simple." Gluttony spoke with a strange intensity, her quiet hunger still pulsing in her words. "The void is never satisfied. And no matter how much you consume, you will always be incomplete. That's something you'll never understand."

I looked at her, now more human, more sorrowful, and I realized that perhaps Gluttony's acceptance was the most desperate of all. The void wasn't just a search for pleasure but a search for something that could never be attained. An eternal hunger.

"Let's keep moving," I said, my tone more serious now. "The road ahead won't be easy. And I don't know if any of us will get out of here... not in any way that matters."

"What else could come from this journey but more pain?" Wrath replied with a cynical smile, but there was something different about her. Perhaps it was the taste of freedom in the way she spoke. She had already accepted that she was no longer what she used to be, and that made her almost... alluring, in a disconcerting way. "But that doesn't mean we're going to stop playing with it, does it?"

Gluttony raised her eyes, as if she were starting to awaken from some sort of stupor. "Playing with suffering, playing with pain... that's what Hell teaches us, isn't it? What Heaven... or anything else that might exist... will never give us."

The journey continued, and even with the echoes of the other sinners in the background, there was something in the air that bound us together. We weren't friends, nor were we enemies. We were just three lost souls, wandering through the abyss, trying to find something we didn't even know we were looking for.

But maybe, just maybe, that was exactly what Hell truly meant: the journey of trying to understand your own shadows.