I never believed in hell. But, then again, I didn't believe in much, actually, now that I think about it, I believed in very little. As a child, being brought up, my Father was very secret, and paranoid at that. I remember a long lecture he gave to me in the kitchen one rainy day, one of many, and it is because of this, that my views on many things are so strong. " Don't trust anyone. Follow that for all your life and you will live a long one. What ever comes out of peoples mouth is shit, and whatever they try to tell you, don't believe. You make your own mind up, and you do your own thing. Don't let other people tell you what to do, because, chances are, they're just waiting to screw you over, and use and manipulate you. Don't let friendliness fool ye either. Half the people you see, on thru bus, the train, down the street, everyday, they're all fake son, and take it from someone who has had experiences. Don't let other people's words influence you." It stuck with me, all through my childhood, adolescence, and still does. I grew up not believing in Santa, the Easter bunny, and soon stopped believing in God, in the Devil, heaven or Hell. So I guess you can say, that what my father said, made me think. Made me paranoid. It took away my innocence. I grew up not trusting anyone, and soon turned on anyone, became isolated, became so paranoid, I was afraid to trust anyone. I lost faith in the human race, and in the words of my pa, I truly was of the opinion that they all were out to screw me over. A lot of it was to do with what my father had said, but also through experience of my own, and was shaken and traumatised so much that I looked everyone in the eye cock-eyed from that moment on. I recall the incident quite clearly. It was a cold, Autumn afternoon, I was 15. I was on top of the world, with everything going for me. Girlfriend, cool friends, connections, hot ride, I had it all. With all the money from my Dads computer supplies company, I should think so too (he refused to work for someone and insisted he would be his own business.) It turned out pretty good, giving him a cosy salary with plenty of pocket money to put in my pocket. I thought money could buy me happiness, but this happiness was false, as I would soon find out. My girlfriend a blonde, bubbly, blue-eyed, cheerleader, called Lisa, had been going out with me for some months. I was in love with her, and she in love with me, well, or so I thought. I had always doubted the relationship, and counted my lucky stars every day, that I had ended up with one of the hottest girls in Lonnigan High School. Often, I wondered why she liked me, it certainly wasn't because of my stunning appearance and my six-pack(in case you can't tell, I'm being sarcastic) Why did a beautiful cheerleader like her, like a spotty, teenager like me? I was a fool not to realise of course. I must have been a blind man, the answer was always staring me in the face, me too naive to realise. I would soon find out, in the most heat wrenching way one can discover, what it was that really drew her to me. Running through the park in that cold, Autumn afternoon, I saw a sight that made me stop in my tracks, my body still, and my heart thumping loudly, so loud that I was sure the man not far away heard it. There she was, on a bench, stuck in a long kiss with a rugby jock, Matt Ponbonnet, a dim-witted idiot, would could barely spell his own name. After watching them, in what seemed to be a lifetime, with a hundred knifes stabbing my flesh, my limbs started to work again, and in rage, I ran to them, confronting her, my face as red as the berries growing on the bush, behind us. "What are you doing?" I found myself shouting. She just shrugged, saying that it was nothing much, and that I should be lucky that she was my girlfriend at all. Then the idiotic voice of Matt could be heard, with him stating" She only liked you for your money, you loser, get lost, before I knock your skull in." My eyes darted to hers, looking her in the deep depths, seeing her for what she really was. I asked her was this true, and she nodded, and then I proceeded to fling all sorts of insults at her, such as "Whore, Bimbo and tramp." I ran home in a state of collapse, locking myself into my room, where I stayed for days on end, wallowing in pity, and crying so much that I could swear I would never be able to cry again. Then I went into the stage of madness. I told myself that she would pay for what she had done, and, she did. I went to her house one day, when she was asleep, climbed through her window, and, grabbing her, threw her out the window, falling head straight,18 feet, to her death. I wore gloves to avoid my fingerprints being found later, and fled from the scene, jumped into my own bed, and pretended I had never left the house. Of course, I was questioned by the cops, they had always suspected me, but there was not enough evidence to prove I had done it, so the case was closed. I have had to bear that burden all my life, heavy on my back. So I guess that is one of the reasons I don't believe in hell, too afraid to, scared to admit that if it were real, that there is where I might go. So I convinced myself, that there was no such place as hell, and nobody convinces you as much as yourself.