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There was someone in her apartment. Mayberry froze at the sight, her eyes adjusting to the low light in her apartment. It didn't take long for her to recognize the woman lying back on the couch with her head on one armrest and her feet on the other, a cigarette in her hand like an old hand-drawn advertisement. She hadn't seen her like this, but even with one eye and red skin, Mayberry knew who it was. Fear turned to surprise, which shifted and settled into a cold fury.
“Margaret...” She growled.
“Martha, actually,” the woman responded, “Oh, but you were close. Don’t feel bad, we did only meet once you know, and you didn’t seem that chatty.”
If a glare could set the building on fire, Mayberry’s would have. Her hands were balled into fists, her new tail snapping around like a hunting cat’s. Martha, however, just leaned back and casually sucked on her cigarette.
“What are you doing here?” She asked, her voice even, and dripping with poison.
Martha exhaled slowly before she answered, the cigarette with its redtip hang between her fingers as she let her hand fall to her side. Mayberry couldn’t help envying how easy she made it. She’d taken weeks to get used to it. “Taste the Hellfire,” the package said. It seemed that hellfire tasted like a thousand angry imps clawing at your throat. She didn’t care for it. Martha, though, seemed to be enjoying herself.
“Oh, you know. Murder. Cannibalism. Sssexual promiscuity...” She let the last one hang in the air like the smoke from her lips as she spoke, “Oh, sometimes at restaurants, I rounded my tips down to the dollar instead of up,” she chuckled, “And to think they called me a hero.”
“I know why you’re in hell, biscuit, why are you HERE?”
Martha laughed, “Well, a woman’s gotta sleep somewhere,” She turned her head to look at Mayberry, “Did you just call me a biscuit? It’s hell, you know, you’re allowed to swear down here.”
“I swear! Sometimes,” she answered quickly, not sure why she cared if Martha knew, “I called you a... That when I was hiring them to shoot you, but I don’t like using that sort of language. Besides, the hellhounds don’t like it, and some of us want to avoid ethnic slurs.”
“Well, don’t worry, honey, you won’t offend me. I ain’t no hellhound, you know. But I damn sure am a bitch ,” she laughed, and brought the cigarette back up to her lips, taking another drag before swinging her legs around to quick sit straight on the sofa.
“I’ve got a gun!” Mayberry warned her, reaching into her handbag, hoping the action would be enough to convince Martha she wasn’t lying.
“And do you think it’ll do anything?” Martha asked with a laugh, “You couldn’t kill me even when I was alive. Even if I believed there was a gun in that purse, you’re 0-for-1 with it. You gotta focus, you know, keep your eyes on the target.” She raised her hand, two fingers and a thumb out to mimic a pistol, “Bang. Gotcha.” She waved the cigarette around a little bit, “Well. Probably. Fact is, I’m not so good at depth perception. But I only needed the one eye to track you down, so I guess it ain’t that bad.”
“Why me? Didn’t you have a family?”
“Oh, yes. I used to. But Ralphie...” Martha looked down at the floor for a moment, the smoke rising from the cigarette off to the side, “Ralphie and I don’t talk so much these days.”
“Oh,” Mayberry felt an (obviously undeserved) twinge of pity for her, “What happened?”
“Ha, same thing as you I suppose,” Martha laughed, leaning back on the sofa to take another puff, “Ran off with another woman.”
“Really?” Mayberry blinked in surprise.
“Oh, in a way, in a way,” Martha leaned her head back, took another drag, and then puffed out to watch the smoke twist in the air above her, “There’s this new rehab program they’re running down here, and that sort of thing was never really my ‘scene,’ you know,’” She sighed, “I don’t know. He says it’ll be better for the kids, they’ll have more fun in heaven, says the hotel will be a better place for them anyway. Maybe. But if you ask me, we raised those two to be the beautiful little monsters they are, and no dime-store Disney ditz is gonna change that, I don’t care who her dad is.”
“Rehab, huh? First I’m hearing of it,” Martha shrugged, “Sounds like he’s wasting his time anyway.”
“First you’re hearing of it?” Martha asked with a sly grin, standing to approach her, “I’m surprised. I figured you would have your room booked already. You seem like the sort of girl who would just have a blast there. All sunshine and gumdrops, VERY you.”
“Well, seeing that we’re in HELL,” Mayberry answered, “I haven’t exactly been paging through the white pages for vacation ideas, no,” she answered, eyes on Martha as she began to walk around her, waving the cigarette idly.
“My goodness, nothing? I’d think at the very least you’d have noticed when all those angels came flying down. Was quite a sight, those people at the Aspen lit up the whole town,” she said as she circled.
“Hazbin.” ,
The correction came out before she realized what she was saying. Martha shot her a broad smile, “Oh, Mayberry, Mayberry, Mayberry,” she shook her head, “You just can’t help yourself, can you? Once a teacher, always a teacher I guess,” she put her hand on her shoulder, “Mayberry, honey, I know it’s called the Hazbin. But you just told me that you hadn’t heard of it. Ain’t nobody told you that lying’s a sin?” She winked.
“Well, that’s why I’m not good at it,” Mayberry sulked, “I don’t have much PRACTICE with sinning, you know.”
“Oh, you don’t?” Martha smiled, “Well, ain’t that a... Biscuit,” she laughed, and looked down at her cigarette, “You got an ashtray around here?”
“On the dresser,” she answered.
“Thanks doll,” Martha smiled and ambled over, examining the porcelain bowl, “Don’t look like you use it that much.”
“Yeah, well, it’s hell. Even the cigarettes here suck.”
“Oh, I can only imagine,” Martha smiled as she snubbed the cigarette out, “I’ll bet you coughed up a storm the first time you had one of these, didn’t you?”
“Like I said. Hell.”
“Well, I like the taste,” Martha answered, “Got a nice kick to ‘em. They mix something called Flamestalk Seeds in with the tobacco. Wrath Ring Reds, they call ‘em. Say you can taste the hellfire. And since I’m in hell anyway, well, I figured I might as well see what all the fuss is about,” she smiled, and turned around, leaning back against the dresser, and brought another cigarette up to her lips, holding it for a moment as she lowered her head to light up, “‘Course, they actually roll ‘em on Gluttony. The guy on Wrath’s some sort of health nut,” she looked back up to Mayberry with a small smile, unlit cigarette still between her lips, “Well, so I hear. They don’t want girls like us down there.”
“Girls like you,” Mayberry answered.
“Hmm?”
“Girls like you. Girls like ME aren’t even supposed to be in hell! I did what I was supposed to, all the time, every day, my whole life! I was so good it HURT! I had to watch every little step, I never put a toe out of line, I screwed up ONCE! ONCE! Is that all it takes?! Fuck rehab, I don’t need a rehab, I don’t belong here in the first place! Just ONE little mistake because my husband couldn’t keep it in his pants on his FUCKING birthday! I was good! I’m not like you! YOU are a cannibalistic serial killer who spent so much time on her back it’s a wonder the mattress didn’t have a hole the size of the grand fucking canyon in it! AND you're a lousy tipper!”
“With a rant like that, at least we know you didn’t waste time getting that lit degree,” Martha laughed, “But you ain’t wrong. You ain’t like me. You know what the difference between you and me is?”
“I didn’t sleep with half the city?”
“Sure. And I didn’t cough the first time I had one of these,” Martha answered.
“Good for you, you want a medal?” Mayberry spat after a moment’s glare.
Martha pulled the small cylinder from her mouth and slipped away from the dresser. Mayberry kept her eyes on the wild-haired woman as she approached. Martha just kept her eyes on the cigarette.
“The trick to these things is,” Martha told her with a smile, “You gotta take it slow. Easy. A lot slower than normal. These ain’t Virginia Slims you know,” she stepped closer, and Mayberry found herself unable to look away, or even to step back as Martha stepped closer, “You have to be careful with how you do it. Here,” She said, raising the cigarette and gently pressing it to Mayberry’s lips, “I’ll show you.”
Whether it was surprise that she was so forward, curiosity about what would happen, or just plain fear of the other woman, she took it. Martha smiled softly and clicked her fingers together, a small flame appearing at the tip. Mayberry let her light it, watching the fire take at the end of the cigarette.
“Take it slow this time. Slower than you’re used to. And don’t try to gulp it all down at once, it ain’t going anywhere. Don't fight it. The smoke knows where it's supposed to go, just let it do its thing.”
Mayberry did as she was told, taking the sort of deep, slow breath in that reminded her of the yoga class she’d tried for about ten minutes before giving up.
“Okay, good,” Martha coached her, “And let it sit there for a moment. There’s no rush. Just let it be. Savor it. Better this way, ain't it?”
She hated to admit it, but Martha was right. The violent scratching that had stung her throat and lungs before felt like the first breath in a sauna after a walk in the snow. There was still a bit of bite, a bit of pain, but it wasn’t the bad sort. More the sort you get when you drink cold water on a hot day. Taking it at its own place like Martha said, the taste of hellfire was refreshing, familiar, almost comforting.
“Okay. There you go, baby,” Martha told her, slowly pulling the cigarette from her lips for her, “Now... Exhale.”
Martha released her breath... And instantly began to cough heavily, the smoke twisting up through her sinuses, coming out her nose like a snorting dragon, bringing the burn to both parts of her airway. She couldn’t breathe in long enough to recover her breath and bent double, choking out the smoke like a kid with whooping cough, holding at her chest.
“It’s okay, it’s okay!” Martha told her, her voice friendly, a bit amused but without malice as she helped by patting Mayberry on the back heavily, “It’s okay, clear it out, you can try again later.”
“I don’t-KHA-don’t want-KHA!-To-Aghh... Try again-KAGH-At all!” She choked the words out through the rare few breaths that she managed.
“It’s okay, it’s okay, you’re doing fine,” Martha told her, “You’re all fine. Here ya go,” she rubbed her back as the coughing subsided, “There, you got it all out?”
“The fuck...” Mayberry glared as she stood back up, “The fuck was that supposed to prove, that I’m still more of a pussy than you?”
“Oh, I wasn’t trying to prove anything, honey, I was just trying to help you enjoy your cigarette.”
“Yeah, well, thanks. It went great.”
“You did enjoy it, though, didn’t you,” Martha responded, “I could see it in your eyes, it felt good.”
“Right up until I turned into a backfiring exhaust on a Model T,” Mayberry snapped back, flopping onto her couch and leaning back on the cushioned backrest, “Ughhh, why are you even here, you really need to gloat about this shit? Is this some ‘One Bad Day’ type of thing?”
She was still staring at the ceiling, but she felt Martha’s weight on the sofa beside her.
“I’m here ‘cause you hired those little lizards to put a bullet through my skull.”
“Not what I meeaaant,” Mayberry groaned, “I know why you’re dead, I know why you’re in hell, just tell me why you’re in my apartment!”
“Oh, I just told you,” Martha answered, “I’m here because the nice lady who was friends with everyone snapped and shot me, her husband, and herself in the head. Of course, that could happen to anyone. Someone you loved betrayed you, believe me, I KNOW that hurts. People do all sorts of things when that happens. But then when they’re done, they go back to normal. But you, baby? You didn’t stop at one time. You didn’t just say you know you fucked up. You were going to finish the job, and if you couldn’t do it yourself, you’d find someone who could. And that... That’s not just someone snapping.”
Mayberry turned her head to look at her, and was surprised by how close the other woman’s face was to hers.
“Mayberry, I can see it in your eyes. You spent your whole life trying to be good. And you tried so hard that you never looked around and noticed that most people... Most people don’t try at all. Most people are good, no effort involved. They do the right thing because they’re the sort of people who do it. It ain’t hard for them. They don’t gotta make themselves do it, because they weren't gonna do anything else. They don’t get all wound up like a spring from the effort of smiling, they just smile. It's easy for them. But it was hard for you,” Martha stared deep in her eyes with the one she still had, “‘Cause the thing is... You are like me.”
“I’m not-” She started to object, but Martha raised a finger to her lips, and Mayberry dropped silent at the gentle touch.
“Shhh. Just listen, baby, mama’s talking. You and me, Mayberry, we ain’t sheep like the rest of ‘em. We’re wolves in sheep’s clothing. You just spent so much time trying to convince the sheep you were one of them, that you forgot you were a hunter. But you don’t need that old sheep disguise anymore,” Martha whispered, “we’re all wolves down here. And all that fleece is weighing you down. Throw it off, and join the hunt.”
Mayberry wanted to say something. But she couldn’t find anything worth saying. She watched Martha bring the cigarette back to her lips and breathe it in.
“I... I...” She grasped for words.
Martha softly blew the smoke in her face, feeling like a warm breeze on a summer night as she let the smoke out.
“You what, baby?”
“I...” She closed her eyes, and felt the Flamestalk Seed’s effects tingle on her cheeks, “I need another cigarette,” she concluded.
“Okay. Clear your lungs. Breathe out. Mouth open. Nice and easy. You’ll know when it’s time.”
Her eyes closed, Mayberry didn’t really think about the instructions, just doing as she was told. Just as she finished breathing out, she felt the plush press of Martha’s lips on hers.
When Mayberry breathed in, she could taste the hellfire.
And she liked it.