This book is not meant to be read.Its floor is sticky. Its mind is soiled. Its characters are to be despised. And if you are sane, it will make no sense to you at all.Poor teenage girl Meone was split in hell. Now, she is four. A beast of joy, a corpse of rot, an impassive observer, and the fractured thing that once called itself "I." They whisper to each other in a glass-walled inferno, trying to claw their way into reality-or destroy it entirely.Blood flows in the corridors of home. Sex and slaughter blur in the garden. And somewhere in the dark, something is watching. Something colder, sharper, more inevitable than any nightmare.A feverish hallucination of horror and self-destruction, Split in Hell is a grotesquely surreal journey into the dissolution of self. It is hell as autobiography, desire as a blade, identity as the final lie.