[ HSBVD WE'RE AT 40k READS WHAT?! are you KIDDING ME?! That makes me so happy—like actually, genuinely, literally happy. When the Hazbin pilot came out, my feed blew up (probably cus Alastor's hot) and it fr made me cry w happiness. like, do you people actually like my writing?! because if you do, that's honestly baffling. but, still—thank u all :,)

also, sorry for making (Y/N) so crazy in these past few chapters. it's necessary for plot ;)

also (part 2), there's a lot of religion talk in this chapter, so i'm sorry if that's offensive to anyone who isn't Christian! i'm only trying to make the story seem as real as possible! ]

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The angel wasn't gentle.

The grip of his fingers felt like five tiny pythons wrapped around the meat of your arm, yanking you this way and that. He led you down a grand staircase, then pulled you across multiple hallways and shoved you through rooms. You had no idea where you were going, or what was lying in waiting at the end of your path.

Were you going to be imprisoned? Killed? Or (hopefully) sent back to hell?

Probably not the latter.

You had made a mistake stabbing Dr. Preston like that. You should have just left. You should have ran—to where? Who knows?—but it would have been better than doing what you did. Hurting Dr. Preston only got you arrested.

Earlier, before you even had your memories back, you could have escaped the hospital area without attracting any attention. The hallway outside of your door was completely empty; Dr. Goldberg and Preston were away, in the middle of their conversation, and nobody else was present.

Now, you were stuck. No—not stuck, arrested.

Of course, you still had that second scalpel tucked into the waistband of your pants, but what use would that be of with your handcuffs in the way? Maybe you could convince the angel to let you go...

He tugged harder on your arm. Nope, not a chance.

It was a long walk before he finally stopped. You had been staring at your feet and the gold Converse-things that covered them when he stopped.

You looked up to find yourself in a white-walled room that looked kind of like a courthouse, only bigger and more vacant. There was a long desk at the opposite wall that was empty, save for the five wine glasses.

Each glass was placed in front of a person; there were two men and three women, all wearing white robes and tall, gold crowns. The woman sitting in the center, who had luscious, auburn hair that ran down her body and ended somewhere underneath the desk, had the tallest crown. It even had a ruby planted in the center.

"My dear, Queen Mary," the buff angel suddenly began, bowing down on one knee and placing his right hand over his heart—letting you go as he did so, "I humbly bow before you, and offer as a gift to your punishment, a young woman who has committed a crime such as the likes of which we have never seen in heaven before." With that he stood, but he wasn't finished talking. "I shall tell you, members of the Council, about how shocked I am, seeing as we were looking so forward to the Transferring of this girl. She seemed so pure of heart."

"She did not seem pure of heart, she is pure of heart," the auburn-haired woman said. "You are dismissed, Rodrick."

With that, the buff angel—Rodrick—left the room. He closed a grand set of white and gold, French double-doors behind him, which had been open when you entered.

You glanced around the room again. There was a much shorter table positioned in front of the Council's table (That was what they were called, right? The Council?) which looked like a place made for you to sit.

But you didn't sit. You remained standing, and you stared, right at the auburn haired woman. Rodrick had called her Mary. Could it have been... the virgin Mary? The queen herself?

"(Y/N)," Mary addressed you calmly. "Please, have a seat."

You took a deep breath, blinking slowly.

When you closed your eyes and saw the darkness, you were comforted. It was like a blanket, fresh from the dryer, enveloping you in dark warmth every time your eyelids slid shit, only to be cruelly yanked away when you opened them again. You didn't understand why it was so comforting. Maybe because the darkness of your mind was a sort of escape from the harsh, white reality of what really was.

You had to remember what you were doing this for. Alastor. Hell. Love.

You were sinning for love. And fuck it all if you wouldn't commit the worst sin of all to get back to Alastor.

(There was still the notion that he was dead. Double dead. But you refused to think about that.)

"No, thanks," you said, forcing a heavy amount of sarcastic goodwill in your tone.

Mary smiled. "Then, by all means, be as you will."

There was silence again. You blinked—a quick reminder of the safety that waited for you.

One of the men, sitting at the rightmost edge of the table, guffawed. His hair was short and silvery, and the edges of his crown seemed to dig into the skin on his skull, like it was too tight for him. "Are we just going to let this girl do as she pleases and ignore the matter at hand?"

"Of course not, Sir Cain."

But she didn't say anything else.

Her eyes seemed inviting, and her cheeks were crinkled kindly, like a therapist's. She looked like she was listening to you, even though you weren't talking. Maybe she could read your mind or something.

Or maybe she was just waiting for you to talk. Yeah, that would make more sense.

So you decided to talk. It didn't take much pondering to know what you were going to say, because the sentence had been sitting on the tip of your tongue ever since you got your memories back.

"I want to go back to hell."

"I know, sweetheart," Mary said, her voice sticky, "but that isn't how it works up here. You are pure of heart, so you are welcomed here. You cannot simply soil your heart just because of selfish desire, or else nobody would be in heaven!"

You frowned, angered by her words. It was a sudden—but understandable—emotion. "Isn't that exactly why people go to hell? For sinning because of selfish desire?" you questioned her.

Even as you spoke, the gears in your brain were turning. You were figuring out a way to manipulate this group of simple-minded freaks, to make them give you what you wanted. The best way to do so, in your opinion, was to appear erratic.

"Maybe. But as a human, you did not contain that selfishness, and your dead self carries the desires of your living self. Just because you chose to hurt someone because you want to—"

"I'll fucking chose to hurt all of you," you hissed, letting your voice raise. Subtle manipulation. "And I won't even give it a second—"

"I wasn't finished—"

Offend their religion. "No! Fuck your stupid rules and customs and values!" Insult them. "This place is dog shit, and I want to leave!" Threaten them. "I'll show all of you dick-sucking whores—"

One of the other women, who had a silken black bob and golden-green eyes that practically glowed, piped up, "Queen Mary, this girl is insane. We need to let her go."

Good. Your act was working—on the black haired woman, and Sir Cain, at least. On Mary, not so much.

You were going to have to try harder.

"Sending her back to hell would mean giving up. Do we give up?"

"I'll make you give up." You glared right into Mary's bright eyes. "I'll shove my foot so far up your virgin pussy that you give birth to a fucking toe nail—"

"Will someone please shut her up?" Sir Cain blurted. "This disrespect is extremely frustrating."

"Extremely frustrating? What are you, ten? Use some adult words, you fucking coward."

The other man in the Council—who didn't look a day older than 16—rubbed his eyes tiredly. You acknowledged the fact that he was a very pretty boy. He reminded you of Nate.

Mary pursed her lips. "(Y/N), your being irrational—"

"No, you're being irrational!" you screamed. You were aware that you sounded like a four-year-old, but it was okay. It was all part of your plan, the only plan. "I'm flat out sinning! Isn't that, like, totally illegal in heaven?"

"She's heartbroken," the third woman said. She had pastel purple hair, which curled behind her ears, showing off her voluptuous cheeks and lips. She wore thin gold glasses, but behind them, you could see the sprinklings of tears in her eyes.

You rose your eyebrows, probably looking like an absolute maniac, but not caring in the slightest. "See, Queen Mary? Your entire squad wants me to leave. Why don't you?"

Then, out of nowhere, Mary was standing in front of you. You hadn't even blinked.

Her features were as still as bricks, showing no hint of her apparent movement. It shocked you, but not as much as it probably should have. With her close proximity, you could see that her hair fell down even past her feet, pooling on the ground like a flaming waterfall.

"Because I see your potential."

Her eyes were even brighter up close.

"You don't want to be a bad person. You just want love, as does every living being. That's why humans were created—to love, and to spread the word of He who created it. You, and I, and anyone else in this room, would do anything for love. I don't blame you for that, honestly. I understand. The thing is, you feel love for someone who is incapable of returning the feeling."

That... that was a lie.

"That half-beast manifestation of a demon is nothing but an animal. He doesn't deserve the great volume of your precious love, and that is why we brought you here. We want you to use your love for good, to spread it amongst our people, who will both accept and return it. You should be thanking us for bring you here."

It had to be lies. She was manipulating you, just as you had tried to do to her and the rest of the council moments ago.

You weren't going to let her.

"That isn't true," you said, but the words nearly choked you, each syllable making your throat contract further.

Mary noticed this and savored it. She was clearly grasping at straws, and she had found the perfect one. "I'm afraid it is, my dear," she told you. "He was just playing with your emotions because he was bored. That's what demons do. It's in their nature; spending years in that hot, loveless cavern of sin can destroy any hint of a heart that they had left."

"But I went to hell, and I can still love," you argued. Now your eyes burned. This wasn't good.

"Because,"— Mary placed her hand on your chest. —"you're pure."

You took a shaken breath. The pressure in your chest felt a million pounds heavy.

"If you don't believe me, I'll show you," she whispered.

You nodded.

And then you were gone.