Rememberment, Chapter VI: Not All People Go to Heaven, Either

Mom worked shifts at two jobs - as a cleaner in schools and in a local shop - and then had to look after the whole family at home as well. I still don't understand how she did it. Perhaps it was her who secretly had superpowers instead of me.

My perpetual ear infections didn't make life any easier. Either Dad or one of my brothers drove us oh so many times to see the doctor who then stuck a needle deep inside my ear, and through my eardrum, to let the pus flow out. It was the most horrible pain I had ever experienced. Afterwards the doctor always commended me for being such a brave boy, which I couldn't really agree with as I became absolutely terrified of the procedure. It was not like I had much choice in the matter - Mom said that if they didn't puncture my eardrums, they might burst by themselves which would be way worse.

Dad wasn't well either and had to spend weeks at a time in the Lung Sanatorium, where we visited him once or twice a week. Although I felt some guilt about it, I wasn't always unhappy that he had to go there; he often crafted me something cool during his stays, such as wooden whistles shaped like birds. But it was also because without his presence at home, things felt more relaxed. His health reflected his mood - when he felt better he was lovely, but when he got worse he also became more strict about God and the Bible. That often resulted in arguments between him and Mom, who had plenty on her plate without listening to his preaching about her tastes in music, TV or magazines. And he didn't much appreciate my superhero comics (or my related drawings) either.

I was often upset after school, when it had been one of those days of me being pushed around and insulted by the other kids. I once told Dad that I wished they would all burn in Hell. He wouldn't listen to such talk though.

"Never say that" he said. "Hell is worse than anything you could imagine. And it lasts for all eternity. You shouldn't wish that for anyone."

Of course, I knew better than to argue with him. But I also remembered what he had taught me: that there were two sins God would never forgive, one being the act of killing yourself (why would anyone do that anyway?) and one of making fun of God. And some of the kids at school did make fun of God when I told them about Him, so it seemed clear to me that their eternal fate was already sealed. 

Besides, they were assholes.

And depicted here is a bunch of naked assholes, right where they belong.

But because I was a Good Boy, I obeyed my dad and stopped telling them that. Besides, our teacher was a devout Christian as well and when she heard someone in my class being disrespectful to God or Jesus, she gave them a bit of hell of her own, which felt good enough for the time being.

One day our family received some bad news. A cousin of mine had died. I barely knew him - he lived in Sweden and I must've only met him once or twice. But his death made Mom cry, and that made me sad too.

Death in the family wasn't new to me. Both Mom and Dad had big families, and being the Twilight Star meant many of my relatives were already old. But it was different this time: my cousin was pretty young when he died. And the most disturbing thing (which probably wasn't meant for my ears, but kids have big ones) was that he had killed himself. He had been drinking, and one night he took lots and lots of pills and washed them all down with a bottle of booze.

That made me think all kinds of things. Why did he want to die? Didn't he know he would go to Hell for that? Would it be just as bad for him in there as for all the really, really evil people?

Dad said I couldn't imagine how bad Hell is, but I tried anyway. I pictured having my eardrums punctured continuously for all eternity, forever and ever and ever, and decided that I would never kill myself no matter what (or make fun of God, for that matter).