People often times come in here with looks of hope. Their lips wobbling with that one question that will change their death forever: "Which path was I left for?"

It always breaks my heart when I point to the right. The right, where that darker door stands. The right, where that person is destined to stay. To rot. To perrish. Taking in a deep breath, trying not to look into their eyes, I'll add, "5th level..." Or 6th, 7th, whichever they were ment for. Sometimes they'd lunge at me. Their bodies cold with hate, hate to Heaven, hate to Hell, hate to the World-hate to Pergitory. They'd tear at feathers or even the pure white of my skin-Of course, the Arch's always have their heads before even a drop of this angels blood graces the floor. Their blood spitting across these white walls...my white cheaks. Their scream echoing for over five hours at a time...I falling to my knees, trembling, for I know that's not their only punishment. The being is dead; the being cannot be killed again. But it can be erased. The 13th level, a level that is unknown to all except I, the archs, and God, is where the deletion is done. for this is pergitory. That's how it is. Don't break the rules; or else you're out of the game. Of course

...I suppose it would be better to be erased entirely rather than suffer more than you already did while living...