Warning: This work has been rated 16+ for language.
"I got a knife, and I'm not afraid to use it," a low, southern voice threatened. "The best thing that you can do is scurry yourself out my house, or, whop! A stab in the thigh."
That's not something Silas wanted to hear waking up. The voice wasn't from his mom because the voice was masculine and Silas's dad left years ago. The teen body shaking uncontrollably and didn't seem to stop as it was fueled by fear. He opened his eyes and he knew he was still in his house. As quietly as possible, he shifted his head to see his alarm clock. The time was a little past eight. He was late for school, but that was the least of his concerns.
Silas' abrupt, awakened slumber didn't give him to time to truly process the words the man spoke until then. "My house" echoed in his head.
He stripped the blanket that covered him, got up in a haste, and strode into the hallway that connected his room. He turned to where the source of the voice came from, which he directed him to the right side of the hallway. Nobody was there. Aside from some clutter in the hallway, the only thing visible was a door connecting to his mom's bedroom.
"Now you listen here," Silas warned. He tried to establish some authority but he could hear quivers in his voice. "This my house! You need to get out. I swear if you did anything to my family, you are getting a stab in the thigh."
Laughter ensued from the other side of the bedroom door. It wasn't an evil, psychotic one that was expected, but it was more like a chuckle when somebody knows something that you don't. With every second that passed by, the more and more it pissed Silas off. An awkward minute progressed and Silas passed his tipping point. He stormed blindly (and rather imprudently) and turned the knob of the door. His shoulders crashed into the wooden door and the door broke from the hinges.
"Wher-" Silas started, but the setting made him distracted. His mom's room had a certain layout: the bed to the right of the door, the TV to the northeastern part of the room, and the clothing drawers were at the northwestern part of the room. Everything shifted. Everything in the room had its set place before, but has now been moved and rotated to make the room have a completely new layout.
Sila's eyes glanced to the man sitting on the bed. He was in his mid-twenties, had chestnut brown, Ivy League hair and steel gray eyes. He was clothed in khaki pants and a short-sleeved button up shirt that had white and sky blue stripes.
The well prepped and smart appearance looked off-putting to his actions. He was playing with a drawled out switchblade. His hands casually chucked the knife two or three feet in the air (spinning, of course), and yet it danced back in his hand without a scratch every time. The young man didn't emphasize much on the switchblade. It was like his equivalent to twiddling thumbs: a mindless activity.
"My mom!" Silas flared. Neither did Silas or the man approached, despite Silas being on edge. "Where'd she go? What did you do?"
The man flung the knife and caught it once again. "I'm not sure what you're spitting out, kid. I've lived in this house for sixty years. Fifty in the real world, and ten in Purgatory."
"Why are calling me a kid?" Silas called out. "And Pur- No, stop it. I've lived here for seven years. I know my house. Just quit messing with me here, and get out of my fucking house!"
"Huh," Silas' invader said under his own breath. "You must take Flares well if you had guts to drop that word, kid."
Silas raised a brow, but that was all he could manage before he felt something tingly and warm inside of him. The heat steadily and quickly increased in temperature by the second. The flaming inferno within him made Silas scream out in pain. Once he exhaled, he saw charcoal smoke appear from his mouth. Silas tried to inhale using his mouth but found himself swallowing the smoke. The coughing and heat were almost unbearable, which in result made Silas collapse to the ground.
After a minute or so, the pain reached its peak, and he figured out that he could still breathe through his nose, but the fire inside him did not die down. He saw the man walk out of the room, but could not read his expression as Silas was blurry-eyed and constantly cringing from the agony he was enduring. Silas heard him rummaging through something, but could not pinpoint the location due to the lack of focus.
"Make it stop!" Silas exclaimed, and smoke came out immediately afterward. He turned his nose away to avoid the smoke.
"Thirty seconds should do it, boy," the man yelled across the hallway. "Maybe less."
Silas faded in and out of consciousness during the final stretch. In the end, however, he was able to bear the pain from the fire, and the fire quickly died. While his insides felt like it was burnt to a crisp, it felt much better than enduring the heat. Silas was healing himself at a fairly rapid pace, and soon the temperature became a faint remnant of earlier, letting Silas stand back up.
The man walked back into the room, with an object clasped in his hands. It was a picture of Silas two years ago in his basketball uniform. "You this kid?" the man asked, pointing to a rather tall boy with short, blonde hair, and forest green eyes.
Silas decided to shut up. He didn't want to experience any more torture to his body. He awkwardly nodded.
"Wow," the man muttered. "What are you, sixteen now? Oh dear, you died really early."
"What? There's no way I-"
"Don't," the shotback, not letting ramble on."Now... Where do I start? Um, okay. Let me start with this: The Christian god is real, and that hell you just dealt with can only happen in the world of Purgatory. For every sin you commit, like saying a curse word, for example, you feel that scorching pain. And this world of Purgatory that we're in can only be entered when you die, but aren't quite good enough for Heaven or Hell. You have to earn yourself Heaven or Hell, or you'll stay here forever."
"I'm dead," Silas thought. The truth was sinking in for Silas, but the facts were too much. He was trying to absorb as much information as possible like a sponge, but a lot leaked out
The man continued on while playing with the picture frame. "I'm Robert by the way. Remember that old couple that died before your family moved in? Yeah, I was one of those people. I aged younger for physical purposes. My guess at least."
Robert's voice was canceled out, however, as Silas' emotions swallowed him.
"I'm... Dead." Silas tried for reality to pass through. The muttering was his first thought coping mechanism. It worked. Then the thoughts sunk in. He would never be able to hear his sister or his mom again. Tears started to drip onto the floor. Then a thought popped up in his head.
"You know what?" The question wasn't directed towards Robert, but Silas let him hear. "I'm going to earn my ticket into heaven! There's no way I won't!" Any emotional stability broke as he soon formed into a fetal position with the tears not stopping any time soon, but he let his goal be heard.
AN: I didn't feel like doing any poetry but I wanted to use some points. This was the result. However, this probably won't be continued but it held its ground as time went on so who knows.