Suspended in an endless void of writhing shadows, millions of people shrieked and wailed with crazed ferocity from the deepest parts of their tormented souls. An eerie keening spliced together with these nightmarish cries, creating the most guttural, unspeakable sound of anguish ever torn from the throat of man. They thrashed and convulsed, desperate tears whittling down their faces until there was nothing left but desolation and misery. They could not hear or see anyone around them. These people were truly alone. Forsaken.

They tortured themselves over each choice they had made, their eyes empty and hearts sickened with self-hatred. There were no second chances. They had no one to help them, love them. Horrific thoughts and memories drowned their spirits in overwhelming despair, twisting their minds into something inhuman. There was no escape from the monsters within each one of them and every heart-broken plea dragged them farther into their suffering. Demonic wraiths hung around them in dark clouds of mist, whispering poison into their ears and watched with cruel amusement as these poor souls utterly destroyed themselves. Hell is not fire and brimstone. It is what we forge for ourselves.