If a normal, average person saw Hell, they'd probably recoil in fear and disgust, amongst other emotions.
But what about people who were raised in Hell? Babies can't decide to be born or not. Children can't decide how they live. Just like that, some children are thrown into a Hellish world and live with the fire. It's not as if the burns stop hurting. It's not that they become numb to the pain. Rather... the fire has become a natural part of their life. Why does the sky hang above us? Why do clouds appear and disappear? Whether or not you ask, the sky and clouds exist. Just as they continue to exist, so does the fire.
One day, a child raised in Hell will learn that other children know not the language of fire and demons. They will ask for more information, like asking what happens next in a fairytale. That's all it is to them. A fairytale that could only exist in the land of fairies. But demons are real. Don't they know that? If demons are real, then why not fairies? And then you realize. If my stories are fictional tales, then that's all there is to it. Fictional tales can't hurt you. After all, they never happened. It wasn't real.
One day, the adult looks within themself and sees a child. Today is not like the other days- today they manage to part the clouds that softened their childhood memories. They see the demons and realize... that's right. Demons don't rule Hell- humans do. You always knew humans were capable of such evil- it's just easier to call them demons and to leave it at that. So if they are human... then... are they humans who have sinned, or is it normal for humans to be sinful?
One by one, buried memories resurface. Weren't they fairytales? No, they couldn't be. If they were, they wouldn't hurt like this. I forgot about the fire. I forgot being told that it wasn't normal. I forgot that it follows me wherever I go. It's here with me, right now. And suddenly, I realize. This fire didn't start on its own. These circumstances are man-made. Someone started this fire. Someone threw me into the fire and watched me burn for years and years.
This is someone's fault. Or was it mine? Was being born wrong of me? Was being alive wrong of me? After all, if I'd never been born, then I wouldn't have felt this in the first place.
It doesn't really matter. Not to me, in any case. Even if the fire was put out, I'd still feel the burns. Can scars that never disappear truly heal?
So what now? When I wake, I'm tormented by the agony of being alive and I dream that I am dead. When I dream, I am killed over and over. When I wake, it starts all over again. I wonder if there's a point to this... if there can be an end to this that results in me still living. All I can do is wait and see.