Staring at a million doors.
Author's note: I don't own any of the characters and I'm not making any money so please don't sue. One thing I want to make clear is that it is not my intention to mock or insult any religious belief, this is just for fun.
…..
Drowning is not a nice way to die, assuming there is any. As the thick swamp water keeps pulling me down below the surface my mind gets hyperactive and points out all the little details that if noticed before would have saved me from my current predicament.
Sam asked me to help him save Elsa's son, he got in trouble with the wrong kind of people, again. This time the thugs realized it was better to kidnap him and ask Elsa for 15 million dollars in ransom instead of just beating the kid up. Now Elsa was more than willing to pay the sum even when she had to borrow some of it, she wasn't as rich as they thought.
All we needed to do was to make sure the exchange went smoothly, in spite of the fact that Sam really wanted to punish those criminals for causing so much anguish to his lady friend. I convinced him that it would be safer to play by the rules and not try anything stupid until the kid was out of danger and then there would be enough time to play vigilante. Fiona was exited with that prospect since she had a few new weapons she really wanted to try up.
It all seemed to go well at first, the kidnappers told us to leave the money near a small marina in the glades. Me and Jesse would deliver the money and get Evan while Fi and Sam would stay hidden in case we needed back up. Before we dropped the bag I received a call telling me the boy was in a small cabin not far from there, next to the shore. I installed a tracker on the money in case they neglected their part of the deal. This is one of the details I should have noticed before, these men seemed professional which was a good sign, but why would they choose a place so inconvenient? The location was far from roads and the small marina was difficult to access, how were they supposed to escape? This was nonetheless a perfect place to kill someone and go unnoticed, another detail that passed right through me.
We found the spoiled brat tied up in the cabin, I only had a few seconds to get him and Jesse out of there before the bomb located in the far corner in the right exploded. The last memories in my mind are Jesse running ahead of me with Evan in his arms while I jump right above them so I could absorb most of the impact. Jesse landed on the shore but the shockwave hit me harder and sent me right into the swamp, to make things worse a large piece of rotten wood from the destroyed cabin hit my back and head knocking me unconscious. How humiliating was to know that I would die drowned in a pool of water 6 feet deep because the numbness that invaded me forbid my arms to obey the command from my brain to move and swim out of there. It was fast; my respiratory system didn't put up a fight as I couldn't stop it from swallowing that filthy dark water.
I see the famous tunnel of white light, at the end of it there is a white door. I can't help wondering what will be there for me behind it. There were many times in my life when I was sure the one waiting for me in the other side had red skin, a pointy tail and a pitchfork; yet on other occasions I hoped for something better, redemption.
When the door opens and I step inside all I feel is… disappointment. Behind that door is a very small dark grey room with nothing more than a chair and a table. The walls are filled with mold with the bricks exposed and smell of humidity and decay, the only light source in the room is a light bulb suspended by the ceiling that throws sparks threatening to burn down the whole place.
Sitting in that old wooden chair was my father, Frank Westen. Looking much older than I remember him, he's wearing old sweatpants and a wrinkled t-shirt and he's doing what he always did while living, drink. The only thing on the small table is an almost empty bottle of scotch and a plain glass; he pours all the remaining content on it and swallows, right after that the bottle magically fills itself again.
-"Hey son, long time no see."- He gives me a pathetic smile while offering me a glass of scotch.
I find the idea of drinking with him disturbing; when I was growing up he tried many times to turn me into an alcoholic just like him. To this day I enjoy alcohol once in a while especially around Sam but I'm proud of the fact that I never fell into any vice. I understand now that booze was a mere device to bond, especially between men and when I drank with Sam it felt like bonding while drinking with my father felt like corruption. Then I realize I'm dead and toss that reasoning aside and I do take the drink.
I will never see Sam, mi mother or Jesse again, Fiona's face imprints on my mind and I know she will be the one I'll miss the most. The liquid goes smoothly down my throat "just like all that swamp water did" my mind reminds me,but it tastes awful, like the worst brand ever produced. The mild dizziness of inhibreation hits me hard and seconds later it goes away leaving me with a feeling of withdrawal, he offers me a refill which I refuse knowing how awful must be to live in constant addiction to something so distasteful.
I look at that tall old man and I can't believe it was him the one I had feared all my childhood, how is it possible that a twerp like that could cause all my family such torment? He doesn't look like the notorious bastard that beat me up on regular basis while growing up; he looks like a helpless geezer. I confront him like I did many times before:
-"So this is it, this is hell."- I say bitterly
-"What makes you say that?"- He asks sheepish while pouring himself another drink.
-"I'm stuck with you in a small, broke down and boring room, that's how I know I'm in hell."- I sigh in despair.
I should have known it wouldn't involve pitchforks and fire, no that would be too easy. Hell is not about pain because I'm pretty sure I could get used to it, after all I felt it most of my life. Hell is about monotony and the prospect of doing nothing for the rest of eternity with no company other than an excuse of human being like Frank and no more comfort than an ugly bottle of whisky. I throw several punches at the door as I try to open it but nothing happens.
-"First of all this is not your room it's mine, if you wanna get out of here I suggest you try turning the handle of the door instead of punching at it and second the afterlife is not as simple as you think"- He growls with the menacing tone he usually used before he removed his belt, but it doesn't scare me anymore I'm a grown man trained in combat now who could beat him to death if he weren't dead already. He smiles at me with a deviance I haven't seen in a while and I know it's his anticipation for my grief, he usually smiled that way when I was little and he knew what was coming but I didn't.
-"If you think my room is bad, wait until you see yours"- He mocks me as I leave the room.
Outside there is an infinite hallway with a million old grey doors, the place is even in worse shape than the room, there is little lightning provided by defecting lights that give the entire place a morbid greenish look. Frank walks ahead of me through that hallway and explains.
-"Most people think that when you die there are only two destinations, one gate that leads you to hell and another that leads you to heaven, some people think there's a third that leads you to the purgatory. In reality the afterlife is filled with gates, one for every person. You see hell and heaven are a black and white concept that doesn't apply to a species that develops constantly in several shades of grey; each door is a mere reflection of the life you led."- Oh yes, dad got a little philosophical after a few drinks, when he was in a good mood.
-"Still we are in hell, I doubt heaven would neglect maintenance this badly"- I mock in an attempt to block out the dread of what was to come.
-"Do you really thought you would go to a place filled with soft puffy clouds and big butt angels? Did you think you could hurt and kill like you do and still see Saint Peter's face?- He chuckles and shakes his head, my rage takes control over me and I punch him in the face, he falls down by the force of the blow but quickly raises to his feet laughing. –"Just so you know there is no such thing as physical pain in here, go ahead beat me up all you want I won't feel a thing."-
He was right and I hated him because of it, all the times I did wrong to others I thought it was still right because I did it for the greater good, but evil is evil and there are no excuses for it. Not only I hurt my enemies but I also damaged the ones I love. The face of Nate as he told me how scared he was when the bullet pierced right through him, my mother's cries when I told her the awful news, the permanent dread in Fiona's face when she was in jail, the betrayal in Jesse's eyes after he knew it was me who burned him and the look in Sam's eyes as I pointed a gun at him. Not only I realize I belong here but that if I got here sooner all the people I care about would've had a better life, in the case of my brother he would still have a life.
-"You are right Frank; I belong in here as much as you do, are you happy now?"- I lash out to him forcing my voice not to break, he opens one of those million doors and I step inside my room.
My room is much bigger than my father's. It looks like a presidential suite with a large bed, a couch and a large table with three chairs. I even have a large window but all I can see is grey fog. Nonetheless the room has fallen into a deep decay, the plaster from the walls is falling and the baroque wooden furniture lost some lairs of veneer and has several cracks on it. I see one of the paintings right above my bed, a grotesque scenery of dead children along with their families, I recognize those faces as Larry's victims, the ones I could have saved if I stood up to him sooner.
So hell is not about monotony, not my hell at least, it's about constant recrimination and the guilt that comes with it.
-"Hey bro, long time no see"- A familiar voice says behind me, I turn to see my brother Nate, he has that friendly smile on him that I didn't know I would miss so much. I hug him tight crying of joy, never thought you could do that in hell. Maybe you can't feel any physical pain but the feel of warmth on the solid body in my arms is as nityd and real as if we were alive. With tears in my eyes I tell him how sorry I am for getting him killed, he hugs me back and tells me over and over that it was not my fault.
-"What are you doing here Nate?"- I say once the initial emotional wave rolls out, he is a good man he doesn't belong here.
-"Same as you I guess"- He shrugs; I stare at him in disbelief. He looks at me sadly and confesses –"I've done some things I'm not proud of, so I earned a stay in "motel shithouse" but I gotta say your room is so much better than mine, even in hell you get VIP treatment"- He tries to laugh out of it but I refuse to believe it, I have to push further.
-"What could you've done to deserve this? Please don't tell me all those bible fanatics were right and the only way to go to heaven is being a prude or something, you don't deserve to be here like me or Frank"- I point at the pathetic idiot standing at the doorframe on my room.
-"I got involved with the wrong crowd growing up; I had so much to prove Michael, to them and myself. I hurt a lot of people and you never knew about it but…"- He turned his head face down, couldn't look at me in the eyes during his confession –"I killed people too bro and never got caught, but unlike you I didn't do it for the government. I lived my life in a selfish way I can see that now, the only good things that came out of me were my son and the few jobs I helped you out with"-
It breaks my heart to hear him say that, he's not a bad man just a confused kid that made some bad choices, I heard rumors of his activities from before I was burned but refused to believe them. There has to be a way out of this place, I deserve this punishment but I will not let my baby brother spend the eternity in here.
-"We need a plan to get out of here, there has to be something we can do or someone to talk to"- I say entering in combat mode again.
-"This isn't one of your jobs Michael, you have nothing to offer in here and all your kick ass abilities are useless. I don't know where we are but I do know we cannot fight our way out of this one, fighting is what got us here on the first place."- Nate tells me sadly.
-"Listen to your brother Michael, he knows what he's talking about"- Frank says swinging his full glass of scotch.
-"Shut up Frank! You know what? I might have to put up with a lot of torments in here but I'm sure you are not one of them. Get out you fucking bastard! Out of my room!"- The voice that comes from my lips doesn't sound mine; I seldom feel the rage that invades me in here. I'm dead and in hell, ergo I got absolutely nothing to lose so I can be as irascible as I want, there's no need for self control anymore.
-"No Michael let him stay; there are some things he needs to tell you. It's not Satan or a preconception of hell that keeps you in here; you are trapped by your own guilt and grudges. If you want to set your soul out of this torment you have to forgive the ones that hurt you and maybe then you can begin to forgive yourself. I forgave him bro; for all that he did to us."-
-"WELL I DON'T! It's easy for you to forgive and play nice with him you didn't get the worst of it, I DID! You hid behind me while ma cuddled by your side and he beat the shit out of me! There was no place to hide and nobody I could trust, all I could do is prepare for the next blow and pray to whoever was out there to end this pain, but guess what baby brother it never happened. Nobody saved me I saved myself."- I shake with rage; all my emotional scars are on raw flesh and bleed without control.
-"You remember all the times I hit you right? But you don't remember the times I saved you. When you die there are only a few pieces of you that remain in the ones you leave behind, now you remember your brother as an angelical martyr and me as a deviate bastard."- My father says containing his tears –"When you were thirteen you pissed off a guy that worked for the mob when you started dating his sister. You know he wanted you dead so you came to the only person you thought was even meaner than him, me. I told you I would take care of the problem and so I did the guy never bothered you again. Yes I was a bastard but when things got really nasty I was the one you came to and I always delivered!"- He drew a shaky breath as he finally broke down in tears –"Right now son things are getting nasty, worse than you think. You can hate me all you want but as many times before I will be the one that saves your ass. I don't ask for your forgiveness all I want is a little time alone with you"-
I throw myself on the bed, close my eyes and feel drained, a mild dizziness takes over me and if I listen closely I almost hear whispers inside my head. Buried in the deep of my subconscious was the side of Frank that was rarely seemed, the man that could save you when the situation was desperate. He would recriminate you for an eternity afterwards but in the moment of the truth he would be there for you. Nate is right, Frank hurt me but I also hurt the ones I love, if he doesn't deserve forgiveness neither do I.
I open my eyes and find my father sitting on the table, instead of a bottle of scotch in front of him there is a chess game. Nate is already gone. –"Come play with me Michael, one last time."- Frank has that pathetic smile on his face again but his eyes show a vulnerability I never saw before. I used to play with him against my will when I was little, he gloated on how many times he could win in spite of being drunk, and sometimes the mental exercise was foreplay for another beating. This time I don't dread what would come out of this exchange and try to adjust to the idea of forgiving him, even if I put my will into it doesn't seem easy.
-"Listen up Michael because time is running out; see how my tower pulled a check mate? That is because you were so busy fighting with the horse that you neglected your queen and king therefore it was easy for me to win the game. You got focused chasing over the figures of little importance when you should set your eyes on my king because he is the one calling the shots, get the king and the game will be yours"-
-"What do you mean time is running out? I've got all freaking eternity! And I didn't even move a single piece on the board"- It's hard for me to focus with all those voices in my head, they started out as whispers but now they are getting louder, I even feel disconnected from myself now as if I'm disaperaing.
-"You're missing the point!"- He said looking at the window.
I turn to look the window and notice how the fog clears away, golden sunrays burst through the dark grey fog and a summer breeze hits my face. The voices inside my head grow even louder and this time I can even understand what they say. "Michael please breathe! Don't let me down" I recognize Jesse's voice, he sounds desperate. The breeze turns into a forceful wind that blows me out of the room, the air pushing me turns solid and takes a human male shape. This figure hits me hard on the chest and puts his lips over mine, I try to fight it off but he is too strong. The lips are not prodding for a kiss, they are blowing air into my lungs and it hurts as I never hurt before. Jesse, I know it's him. I hear his desperate shouts and feel his hands crushing my ribs, his cruel lips thrust into mine and another rush of hot air fills my lungs.
It hurts to come back, much more than to die. A single hard blow lands over my beaten chest and I can't help coughing a mouthful of muddy water, strong hands turn me on my side to help me cough and vomit. Every nerve ending cry in protest, it feels wrong to be alive reviving is much more traumatic than hell itself.
When I open my eyes even the light of day seems invasive, Jesse's face appears in front of me; his eyes show despair, hope and more joy than I could describe. He looks like a man who saw the greatest miracle ever imagined, his hands grab my face and his words are so fast and tainted with emotion I don't understand what he's talking about. Behind him is Evan looking terrified at what is happening behind him, the ring of shots crowd the air. I will have time to ponder on my death experience later on, now I have to save my friends.
Jesse helps me to stand up and I ask him for a weapon.
–"You're in no shape for a fight Michael"- He sounds so worried but at the same time he knows he can't make it on his own
-"We have no choice unless you think Evan is prepared to cover for you until you get to the car"- I tell him trying to hide the fact that breathing is a daunting task in my condition.
-"I'll do it if I have to"- Evan says looking determined, he has nerve, who knew.
-"Jesse get to the car and take the weapons below your seat, we will cover for you. Once you get the weapons you will open fire on our targets so we can get in the car then we'll go for Fi and Sam. Are we clear?"- It hurts so much to talk right now, I don't even know if I will be able to stay on my feet let alone run dodging bullets. I remind myself to stop whining and get on the task at hand; my friends need me so I better suck it up.
Jesse nods in blind confidence and I know I have to live by his expectations, one day I will die for my missions, ideals or any of my friends… but not today.