Hell exists. Or rather, it can be created. It's different for every person. For me, it would require being abducted by Mexicans and thrown into a dark, filthy and perpetually damp utility closet in which there would be no room to lay down. Stray cats would be rotated in and out and instructed to scratch my legs and urinate on the wounds. My eyelids would be stapled to my eyebrows, and Joel Schumacher's Batman & Robin would be shown on panoramic screens placed at every conceivable angle with the sound trumpeting in at near-deafening levels. This would go on until I collapsed from exhaustion, at which point I would be nursed back to health by Scarlett Johansson. Any acknowledgement of her presence whatsoever on my part would result in an immediate return to the closet. Presuming medical technology advanced sufficiently during my time there, they would take every measure possible to keep me alive and awake forever and ever.
Oh, and I would only be fed peanut butter sandwiches with no milk.