Thread:MisterRoninSushi/@comment-34745594-20180703043950/@comment-27946255-20180714123919

Dear Biqtch Puddin,

It is I, the Devil. But you can call me Erika... (or 'the devil', whatever feels right.) I am pleased to welcome you to hell. You've done quite a bit to end up here, but on my Sin List, there's one thing that seems to be the very obvious tipping point. Let me get straight to it.

You were in the hospital. The nurses were doing their best to treat you, but you were making their lives a lot harder than necessary. You kicked and screamed in your bed, refused to eat, and were an all-around pain in the ass.

(By the way, this is what I'm reading in my notes, it's not coming from me. It says right here: "All-around pain in the ass". I'm not joking. It also says: "A very ugly person - looks like a crossdresser". That's rough. Sorry.)

Anyways, your temper was rising and rising each day you spent in the hospital. So much so that you could barely heal. It wasn't until one summer night when you seem to have snapped. Do you remember any of this? Oh god, why am I asking? Of course you don't, you're dead. I should know this by now. Y'know, one of my first Death Notice letters was filled with questions. That was a big mistake. Mistakes can be fixed though... wait, what was I talking about? Oh yeah, back to your story.

You woke up in the middle of the night, seething with rage, as usual. Your hand was still hurting after 'the incident'. You couldn't take it any longer, so you got out of bed. Then, you ran out of the room, screaming. A group of nurses, who were tired of dealing with you, sat outside of your room in case this happened. They managed to collectively wrestle you back into the room, but you told yourself you wouldn't spend another second in that hospital bed. You broke free from the nurses' grasp, then ran towards the window.

"Don't come any closer, you filth!"

But closer they came. You had warned them, and they ignored your warning. Now, this is the part where you went crazy. Should I add it to this letter, or should I skip over it? I don't know if you want to read it. It's pretty intense. Whatever, I'll add it.

You charged directly towards one of the nurses and pushed her to the ground. You jumped on top of her and began to beat her, punching her head mercilessly without any resistance. The other nurses scrambled out of the room to warn the authorities, while you smashed her head in until blood came pouring out the back. You killed her. At this point, you should have stopped. But you didn't.

You went on a rampage from room to room, destroying everything in your path. You slit the throats of each and every patient, leaving them all to die. As you left each room, you did your best to set each thing on fire. And you did pretty well. Fast-forward a few minutes, and you're standing in the middle of the hallway; a group of policemen in front of you with guns, and a blazing fire behind you. You barely knew what you were doing as you dodged every bullet and snatched one of the policemen's guns. All you heard next was five loud bangs. Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

You looked down and saw all of them dead. You dropped the gun and began to stumble backwards. Everything that had happened up until that point was rushing back to you. As you walked back, you just so happened to trip and fall onto a cart with hundreds of needles - all pointing upwards. You felt every single tip stab into your back, drawing blood with each painful pinprick. You stood up and tried to leave the hospital. You made it thirty feet before you fell to the ground, weak from whatever drugs were inside each needle. The pain was unbearable. You began to shake relentlessly, foam seeping from your mouth. Although you were immobile after only thirty seconds, you stayed alive, enduring all the agony, until you finally died after twenty minutes.

Hoo, boy. That was tough to write. What kind of messed up person are you? Even I, the Devil, haven't done things that were THAT screwed. Anyways, I'm just writing this letter to tell you that you made it into hell by breaking one of the seven deadly sins. Wrath. Had you been able to control your anger and stop your rampage, there's a chance you'd still be alive today. But, in your wrath, you bought yourself a one-way ticket to the house of Satan.

So enjoy your visit! It's gonna be very, very long, and you're going to feel lots of pain. If you have any inquiries, call me at 1-800-555-HELL.

Sincerely,

Erika (The Devil)