The world was white. Titus was a surprised, truthfully. He had expected fire and brimstone. Hell was a lot brighter than he would have imagined.

He tried to blink, but couldn’t. It was as if his eyes were sewn shut. He tried again and all but screamed. Sunlight was burning his eyes. The morning sun was seeping into the room from a window, blinding Titus.

“He's awake,” a woman observed.

A Freudian-looking face filled his vision. The face was replaced by a small penlight.

“Hello, Titus, it’s Dr. Damon. Do you remember me?”

“Well, if this was Hell, someone knows how to staff it,” Shade whispered in Titus’s ear. He added, “Oh, ask him how his hand is doing.”

The doctor waited expectantly, ignorant to Sh...

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