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There are many different types of hell.
LaFontaine knows many, if not all, of them.
There is the hell of a scholar.
Finding a question, a problem, that is intriguing and captivating and invigorating.
Spending hours upon hours searching for an answer, striving towards the truth, researching and calculating and working things out.
And finding nothing.
To bang your head against the walls of possibilities in the blind search of illumination until all you feel is pain and frustration.
And be forced to remain in the dark as the answer continues to slip from your grasp.
There is the hell of an outcast.
Feeling the judgement and expectations of those who managed to perch themselves safely above you among the boughs of normality.
To feel their stares like weights.
To bear the lash of their words.
And either bend into the shapes they will or be buried.
There is the hell of a puppet.
Having no control over what you do or say.
Trapped in a place you once loved.
Being forced to watch as the world continues on.
Continues to turn.
Without a single thought to you or your suffering.
There is the hell of a physical being.
Sticks and stones break your bones.
Fires lick open wounds.
Chemicals spill across your skin, igniting nerves in terrifying ways.
The pains of the flesh are unavoidable agonies that plague humanity.
There is the hell of a friend.
Watching the ones you care for get hurt.
And being unable to do anything to help them.
To try your hardest and still fall short of being what they need.
(Sitting by Laura's bedside after Carmilla's sacrifice.
Watching Danny wear herself down trying to save everyone.
Seeing Carmilla fighting every instinct she has in a bid to be 'better'.
Perry frantically cleaning their dorm room looking terrified.)
There is the hell of a childhood friend.
Slowly feeling the gap between you and them grow.
Trying to hold on for dear life.
And have them still slipping away from you.
(Perry was magic and LaFontaine was science.
As they grew, so did the conflicts between them and their chosen disciples.
LaFontaine knew their bond had become unsustainable.
"Come with me to Silas," Perry says one day as they hang out at the local park, having commandeered the swingset ten minutes ago.
Their bond was as sustainable as fossil fuel.
But LaFontaine knew in that moment, watching Perry swing back and forth with a serene smile on her face, that they would hold on to her until the fumes choked them.
"Sure, sounds fun.")
There is the hell of a soulmate.
To have the other half of your heart within arm's reach and yet so far.
Knowing the seperation between you is your fault.
Realizing that you have have failed them in every way imaginable.
("I've been in control of Raggedy Ann for months, didn't you notice?" the Dean mentions almost playfully.
Ice floods LaFontaine's veins because they hadn't noticed anything.)
("Not everyone is capable of being a vessel, you know. For someone so disappointing, your friend is really quite impressive."
Ignore her, just keep researching. Ignore her, she doesn't know anything about Perry.
"I guess that's to be expected of someone who responded to seeing the face of the universe and defeating Tythia with throwing out all her magic books, shoving herself down a chasm of denial, and spending the next three years trying to scrub order into the universe."
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"Come on now, darling. I haven't participated in a friendship in, well, millennia, but I'm pretty sure if you honestly didn't notice the switch from Hippy Dip to Suzie Homemaker you should really stop calling this girl your friend."
"I noticed!"
"But you didn't do anything about it, did you?"
"I tried..."
"Not very hard, I gather. And to think, this one gave up her spot as the faerie queen's right hand, gave up nearly immeasurable power and knowledge, so that her dear, sweet, Susan would be spared.")
There is the hell of the betrayed.
Giving someone your trust and support.
Putting your blood, sweat, and tears towards working with them.
Helping them in every way you possibly can.
Only for them to throw it all back in your face.
(Danny dies.
The campus is nearly burned to the ground.
JP dies.
Those not dead or grievously injured are enslaved and forced to dig towards the apocalypse.
But what do Carmilla and Laura care?
They have each other and their young adult novel romance.
LaFontaine knows that if it was Carmilla being possessed then murder would never even approach the table of possibilities.
Laura already threw away everything for her once, dooming them to their current predicament.
There's no doubt she'd do it again.
No, it's fine for Perry to die.
It's fine for Laf to lose everything.
Why should anyone care what happened to them?)
There are many different types of hell.
LaFontaine knows a good deal of them.
LaFontaine knows them well.
So, what is one more? They wonder as they plunge to the depths of the Pit.