There’s Just Hell

Agnes tells me I'm the reincarnation of some guy named Edmundo Du la Font. She says I turned her into the beautiful creature of darkness she is now, three hundred and twenty-two years ago.

"And why did I do that?"

"Because you needed company."

"And why did I choose you?"

"You told me I was perfect for you, that I had what it took. You said I reminded you of yourself when you were young. And now I know exactly what you meant. When I was human, I was just like you, Fabrizio."

"I don't get it."

"Nothing changes, my love."

"Still not getting it."

"Every time you come back to this world, you're always the same. When you were Edmundo, and Edmundo was just a simple human, not a sophisticated and sharp vampire, you had the same urges, the same questions, the same desires you've had until today, as Fabrizio. Every time humans return to this world, the same thing happens. Their paths never shift, because their needs, their emptiness, their soul's misery, it's always the same. There are no second chances. People come and come again, but they're always the same, and so their lives end up practically identical."

"Do humans come back to this world infinitely?"

"Oh, no. Of course not. There's a limit."

"What's that limit?"

"It depends. It's not the same for everyone. Some come back five or six times, others eighty or a hundred."

"And then?"

"Then you suffer the greatest horror. Then there's Hell."

"What about Heaven?"

"Heaven doesn't exist, my love."

"What? How can that be?"

"All humans are condemned to Hell because there is no other place after this."

"And God?"

"There is no God."

"So what then? No God, but there's a devil?"

"There's no devil either. There's just Hell."

"And who runs that place?"

"No one. It doesn't need anyone to run it. Hell's essence is chaos, and there is nothing but indescribable agony. The damned just suffer, period."

"That's some bullshit."

"Yeah, some serious bullshit. That's why being a vampire is so great."

"When I was Edmundo, did I know that? That there's only Hell after this life?"

"Of course."

"And what happened? How did I die? Did someone kill me?"

Agnes nods. I can tell she's pained by the memory of Edmundo's death (my death when I was Edmundo), but that doesn't take a bit of perversity from her gaze. It's strange. But it's true. I can't describe it any other way. It's like seeing someone cry from pain but without losing their joy. I know it doesn't make sense. But, honestly, I don't think trying to make sense of things matters anymore. I ask:

"What happened? Did someone stake me?"

"Don't be dumb. Only a stupid vampire would get killed by a stake, and there aren't any of those, because to be a stupid vampire, you'd have had to be a stupid human, and no vampire would turn a stupid human into a vampire. At least, I don't know any case."

I stay quiet. In an instant, I find myself staring into the void and remember that, not even two years ago, in my room in La Concepción (that room where I often thought I'd lose my mind), I wrote a few chapters about a revolutionary who, in the end, is captured and, within minutes, sentenced to die burned alive at noon under a hellish sun. I wrote the passage about the revolutionary's death as if I were living his despair and torment, as if what I was writing, that nightmarish agony wrapped in a furious fire, wasn't fiction, but a memory. Damn, it was intense. When I finished writing, I lay back on the mattress. I thought that might stop the brutal panic attack that was knocking on the door of my soul, about to burst through my body with the fury of a hurricane. But no, I couldn't avoid falling into the abyss. After a while, I was clawing at my neck because I felt like I couldn't breathe. It was terrible. I hate crying. I despise crying. But when that devastating panic attack ended, I started crying like one of those soft men I've always hated. I got up with difficulty. My legs were shaking. I moved to the window. The apartment was on the fifth floor. I had to throw myself headfirst, because, if I wasn't effective and precise, I'd end up crippled and alive, stuck in my miserable life. Holy shit, I felt totally wrecked. Then, suddenly, someone knocked on my bedroom door. I heard one of my roommates' voices. I stepped away from the window, wiped my tears and snot on a t-shirt, and opened the door. There was no one on the other side. I frowned in complete confusion. I stepped out of my room and walked around the apartment, but I was the only one there that morning. Something supernatural had saved my life. But I didn't want to dwell on it. I went to the bathroom, washed my face, then went to the kitchen. I wasn't exactly motivated, but I had enough energy to keep existing. I made breakfast.

I stop thinking and snap back to reality, no longer staring into the void. I look at Agnes. I ask her:

"It was the sun. That's what killed me, right?"

"Yes, it was the sun. I tried to save you, my love. I swear I did. I was willing to die by your side, but they wouldn't let me."

"Was it you who knocked on the door that time? Was it you who saved my life that morning?"

"Yes."

"But it was daylight, how could you have done it?"

"There are some tricks."

"Have you been by my side all along?"

"Yes."

"Why didn't you come closer before?"

"Because not everything is freedom. There are some rules."

"What's that rule that stopped you from doing what you're about to do now?"

"You weren't fully ruthless yet. You were still afraid. Your evil essence hadn't fully surfaced. Now it's different. Now, that you and your little girlfriend have murdered all those people with cold-bloodedness, with no compassion or remorse, you've shown you're ready."