Apparently, death wasn't the end—it's only the beginning.

-Immortal Shield-

AN: I've still to update my other stories, but they will be updated in due time. I just couldn't help but publish this, the idea has been playing around in my head for awhile and I've already finished the next chapter and currently working on the third. I apologize for any spelling errors and I'll probably look back and check over everything again. Anyway, enjoy and feel free to leave a review if you want.

-Before I forget, this is Pre-Twilight but it will lead up and continue off with the edition of my character, everyone else belongs to SM. I'm also going to mention this isn't 'movie' Twilight, this is 'Book' twilight. So no shape-shifters with a stupid tattoo and no Robert Pattinson(did I spell that right?) as Edward-catch my drift?

If I had know my life were to take a sudden—if nothing more than horrifying—turn, I would have spent my last moments surrounded by those I held dearest. But that was never meant to be, no last wish, no final goodbye—nothing, nada, zilch. I couldn't help but feel rage at the turning point, white hot unadulterated rage.

I was cheated of the one thing that would have soothed me, calmed my panic and told me everything is going to be okay even though it probably wasn't. I didn't care for words, I wanted to see them, just a small glimpse. I would have told them how much I loved them—I knew I never said it enough but in those fleeting moments where I danced the line between life and death, I could only think about how much I would miss them when I went away.

I never got the chance—it was robbed from me before I even knew what was happening. My world had lit up into a fiery pit of my own personal hell. I could barely make coherent thoughts, everything was rushed along like my whole body was being compressed. I literally thought for a brief moment that I had been shoved into some human sized pressure cooker. I was ready to explode and implode all at the same time and I was more than positive my body was most likely smoking in white wisps. The heat just kept growing and growing, running along the length of my body and ripping me inside out.

It was agonizing. I couldn't tell if I was screaming or if it was someone else, or maybe it was all in my head. Time suddenly didn't seem to matter any more, all I could focus on was my torture. Maybe I really had been thrown into hell and maybe I was doomed to burn for all eternity. Yet what had I done to deserve such harsh treatment? I've never stolen, murdered or even taken drugs—if you exclude painkillers and cough medicine.

It wasn't fair. To be suddenly ripped from a normal life and thrust into a nightmare. Yes, people die all the time however I never thought about myself dying. It never crossed my mind that I would die so young, barely out of high school—I had yet to step out into the world, leave the nest and lead a life of my own and one day create a family of my own.

And it was stolen from me.

My dreams, future goals, plans, trips—all stolen.

Who had done this to me? Or more specifically, why? I had barely begun life and to no longer have it—it was crushing. I wanted to desperately cling on, to live. I had never wished for anything so bad before. I never even knew how much I wanted to live until those exact moments, attempting but failing miserably at opening my eyes, just to see something—anything.

I needed to feel something other than this pain. I just wanted it to end. A quiet and painless death would have suited me better, but living meant too much for me to simply give up. But the liquid lava that coursed through me was almost enough for me to buckle and give up and some small part of me was telling me to just let go, it was useless to fight it. What could I gain from dying anyway? Absolutely nothing. Living was much too valuable to simply give up and walk away.

But that small lingering thought, telling me not to give up—that there was still hope, despite the writhing agony that had sucked me up and spat me out. And I clung onto it like a lifeline, pleading and praying it would end soon. Yet it never did, it just grew more intense like it wanted me to give in.

I don't know how long it went on for. Hours, day, weeks, months. I couldn't quite tell, everything just blended together until I was facing the facts of black and white; it wasn't going to end any time soon. Any vein attempt at searching for logic flew out the window, there was no reason for me to be in so much pain and still be semi-conscious of what was happening to my body. I should be in the afterlife, or perhaps lingering as a ghost with unfinished business—limbo I think it's called—but there was nothing there, no black abyss, no white light and no one to greet me on the other side. It was all the same, plain as day, pain.

Maybe this was the afterlife, just a cycle of torture that varies in scales and the further you're sucked down the hotter it gets. I couldn't be sure. I couldn't feel anything else but the pain, even hearing had become a strain and I was grasping at straws to piece everything together, just to make sense of everything. But no theory came to mind so all I could really do was wait and see what happens.

And so I waited.

Patience wasn't a big part in it ether. Rather, I was inpatient. Screaming thoughts bounced around my mind, demanding the heat—in these exact words—to just fuck off. Unfortunately, it had no effect what so ever under the conditions and only served to anger me further, creating a new flux of curses to ricochet around my mind, each time birthing new and creative swears.

But surely, the heat began to recede.

It started with my fingers and toes. It was like I was being dipped into cool water, soothing and calming—nurturing the burns that had tormented my body. Relief flooded through me, quickly followed by joy that it was all coming to an end, thinking maybe that I had somehow survived and I would be able to live and go back home and just be happy that I'm alive. I would be able to see my family again.

The cold that surfed across my fingers and toes eventually washed its way up my hands and feet, soon followed by my arms and legs. It was painfully slow, almost agonizing at the rate it was going but I was just glad it was all ending. Slowly but surely, I could get back on track and throw away this nightmare like it never happened.

Eventually all that was left was my torso, but I felt the heat ebbing away, leaving a dull burn in the centre of my chest.

Finally, after much time, my eyes cracked open—thrusting me into a world of light and brightly lit colours.