There they are…staring at me just as I stare right back at them. I almost wanted to cry at there beauty. But, at this moment, who was I to cry?
A beautiful gate shone in my path about ten feet away from me. They looked like they where…glowing? Would I be surprised if they where? That's what they where supposed to do, right? Shine? Or, perhaps not. The gate was long, never ending as far as I could see. It stretched in a perfectly straight line, never curving, it's long, black, iron arms looking like they wanted to hug me, welcoming me to them. There where sharp points at the top of each metal post, and they would look threatening, if only they weren't glimmering too. I was forced to smile, even though I know it's the last thing I should be doing. I knew where I was. I knew what happened.
My name is Scarlett, and right now, I'm dead.
I'm currently staring at the very death that holds me, this gate, my only hint. I know that as soon as I pass them, I'll die. But, am I not already dead? No…I am, I have to be. I was murdered. I remember seeing her kill me. I remember feeling it. Sure, it was not the most horrible thing that's ever happened to me, but it sure was not fun.
I stare at the gates a little longer, biting on my lower lip as I try to figure out what to do. I debated with myself on weather or not to go though. I'm not sure why I was hesitating…I was dead, why not explore death a little? It's an interesting subject that I'm sure a lot of people would like to know more about…to a point. I sigh, and stare at the ground a moment. I chew on my lip some more, and groan to see the gates are still waiting for me. My footsteps are heavy, and deliberately loud as I make my way toward it. It opens silently , and I step though the dark line.
I immediately regret it.
I instantly knew it was the worst decision I have ever made in my existence on Earth. That one step…that tiny pass through the gate…why did I do it?
Pain. Horrible, agonizing, unbearable, pain. It coursed through very vessel and cell in my body, stabbing every millimeter with a needle that had been dropped in the burning fires of hell for the last thousand years. I knew I was screaming….though I didn't hear it, feel it, or suggest it. It was just an inevitable fact. Being murdered felt like rolling around on a pink cloud with a pack of frolicking bunnies that had been dried drastically with a hair drier compared to this. Yes, being murdered was a pleasure compared to this.
As fast as it had come, the pain faded, snapping out of the core of my body. Everything was black, and NOW I could hear myself screaming. My lungs felt like they where going to split open from it. The blackness that I hadn't noticed was even there started to fade, and turn to a bluish tint. Then, the familiarity of my room fuzzed its way into my vision. I stopped screaming, and I still haven't taken in an inhale of breath for what feels like five minuets to me. I quickly follow this by swallowing sweet oxygen. Next, I feel a warm hand press against my shoulder, and I flinch. Well…I'm not completely out of it…though…I am dead…this must be it…you go back to your old life…and people get to call you insane for the rest of it. No. That's not right. My eyes flick toward the direction of the hand, and I see my fathers face staring at me in shock. His mouth was open, and his eyes where the size of pool balls. I manage to laugh, and his mouth clicks shut.
After I calmed down a little, he struggled to force information out of me.
He made sure I told him everything about my 'dream.' And I did. I told him about me being murdered. I told him about the gate…and the color of the floor, the feeling that was incomprehensible to the human mind. He took it all with a roll of his eyes, and another pat on my shoulder to make sure I was alright. I wasn't.
You may thing that a simple wash in the shower would be the most innocent thing possible, right? Well, before you go and agree with me, know that it's not. In my world, all it takes is a shower for you life to completely change. See, I had a razor in my hand, and I was leaning over. The razor was pressed against the top of my ankle, and I gently pull up with the slightest bit of pressure. As I do, a sudden jerk up snags my skin, and cuts through. I pull the razor away. The strange thing about razor cuts, it they don't hurt. They just bleed…A LOT. I expected so much as this one, and seeing how my shower was pretty much at its climax. (Aside from my slightly furry legs) I step out, wrap a towel around my body, and await the flow of blood. None soon comes. I sigh in exasperation, and plop down on the toilet, pulling my leg up and examining the bloodless wound. Again, for the third time this week, I almost started crying. There was not a drop of the red, crimson blood that is so fatal to us humans. No. Instead, a stream of gold spilled from the cut, cascading down my foot and dripping to the ground. It didn't feel warm like blood does…nor cold. It mimicked my skin temperature perfectly. Of course, curiosity took over just then, and I instinctively grabbed the first few sheets of toilet paper that I could. It was 'bleeding' horribly!
I was sure I'd lost an entire gallon of 'blood' within the 30 seconds the cut existed. I place the paper over my leg, almost in tears from panic. I freeze for a moment, unable to help but remove the tissue, and examine the injury.
It was gone, my skin was flawless…aside from the golden smears on my leg. I race to the kitchen, desiring to experiment this strange event further. I grab a knife…and bring it to my arm, just wanting to get one more drop out…then hesitated. Something was different… I blinked, and bring my arm closer to my face, staring at it as my eyes trail over my wrist. My veins…they weren't the deep blue I was used to, but gold. I let out a scream of frustration and hurl the knife into the sink, growling as I stomped into my room, quickly tossing on clothes, scooping up my jacket and soon escaped through the door.
I stubbornly pull my jacket up to my throat, biting the inside of my cheek, lost in thought. I stopped when I broke the skin, and tasted blood. My eyebrows rose, and I spat on the ground. I gold glob rests. I growled again, muttering under my breath. I wanted to know what was happening to me. Should I go to the hospital? A little town like this doesn't have a hospital close to it….it would take me and hour to walk there. I let out a small sigh, and keep my eyes glued to the ground. I didn't know it at the time…but I was walking toward my own little sanctuary. It was a forest area. I had always wanted to live in the middle of a forest. All by myself, in a twisted old house. One where the roof leaked a little when it rained. I soon found myself stumbling against a log, and I slowly ease by butt onto it, my hands shaking terribly. I could have thrown up. I was scared, stressed, and very dizzy.
I sat there lost in a web of thoughts I'd never recall for what felt like two hours. I could have walked to the hospital and back in that time…but no, I had to sit around and think. Around three hours, I heard someone behind me. I was a little shocked. The whole reason this place was my sanctuary was because no one ever visited. I didn't give them much attention though; I was too lost in my own labyrinth of a mind. I felt someone touch my shoulder…but it could have been my imagination. Suddenly the touch turned into a pull, and I was twirled around. I shocked myself, and waved my arms frantically as my balance was lost. I felt the cold forest floor crunch under me, my legs resting against the fallen trunk of the tree.
My light blue eyes float up, and I spot my attacker. He was a few years older then me. He had dark brown hair, and intense green eyes that where glaring down at me. I scowled back at him.
"That wasn't very polite, was it?" I demanded.
"Get up, we need to go." He growled back.
I blinked at him, and slowly get to my feet, brushing myself off as I did.
"You need to go, I need to-"
"Scarlett, I don't have time for this, we have to leave, right now." He grabbed my hand, and pulled me a few feet, "I'll explain everything on our way." He promised, glaring over his shoulder at me.
I hadn't told him my name. That's how it always worked. Someone you didn't know came out of nowhere, knowing everything about you, and unravels your destiny. I groan.
"I'm listening." I mutter darkly.
"You know a girl named Aubrey, well she killed you." He glanced back at me, and grinned. "I'm sure you remember that."
My eyes narrowed at him, threatening. Before I could defend myself, he spoke up again. "Your trying to live you life as if nothing happened…this is wrong. When people are murdered, it means they die before they are meant to. Everything is planned, and scheduled…my job is to make sure everything follows that schedule. It's your job now too. We're what you would know as angles. We help people get to where they're going after they die." He explained.
"You know, you can't just pop in out of no where and tell people that they're dead, I mean, that's just rude! And…and it would have been a little better if you gave some sympathy to the dead people, I mean, you think that, maybe, perhaps, they've been having a hard time? It's not easy to accept stuff like-"
"Your dead." Ty cut me off.
I spun around, and stalked off, away from him, forcing my brain to function proper thoughts. To make sense…that it never really had the ability of in the first place.
He smiled, "Give me a moment to explain." He suggested from behind me. He seemed careless, as if it didn't matter to him if I knew or not. It probably didn't, but for some reason, that made me think it was more important to me that he was suggesting.
People live until they die. That's the simplest fact in the world. It's true; it's easy, and simple. I don't apply to this rule. Not really. I didn't die of a disease, I did not die of old age. I was murdered. That means I died before I was supposed too. That means my life isn't supposed to be over, but it is. Since I am not dead properly, I cannot advance to wherever we go after we die. (Ty has no idea either, so he couldn't tell me what it is.) I had two options. I'd already made one. I could have rejected the fact that I was dead, (I'll explain this further later. It's frightening, trust me) or, accepted it. The gate. I needed to walk through the gate. I did, and now I'm put to the only use possible for a victim like me. I must do three things.
1: Live the rest of the time I had of my life. I'm only a teenager, so , I'm going to be stuck like this for a while.
2: Transport the people I am assigned, (by Ty) to the gate where they make their decision.
3: Tell other victims of murder this, and help them as well as possible.
Ty ended up sitting down as well. "What happens if you don't go through the gate?" I asked him. A grimace crossed his features.
If you don't go through the gate. If you reject death, then you stay where you are. You live on the world, not communicating with anything or anyone. You are unable to touch things that has 'life' on them. Warmth mainly. No one can see you. This is why shows like Ghost-hunters exist. Leave something alone for 15 years, a house, an object. If you had no human-contact for thousands of years, you would want to pick up anything you found too. You would want to try and talk to people, right? Some form of communication, something to say that you exist.
I'd never took the phrase, "its hell," more seriously. What could be worse then death not even existing to save you from this world? Nothing.