Death is not what people think it is.
There is no white light or long dark tunnel. There's not even a hoofed creature with a pitchfork forcing me into the flames. There is only emptiness.
And the rapid chattering of hundreds of dead witches.
Oh, they have been waiting for this moment. For millennia they have been plotting their revenge, developing punishments to fit my crimes. Their curses bounce off of each other's. Each of them cast spells, wrapping me in bonds of torment.
The worse witch of them all is my mother. I feel her eyes on me and I scream at her to show herself and fight me. Why should she cower? I'm the one being punished. I'm the one who's outnumbered.
She doesn't appear. I didn't think she would.
Apparently, they've reached a verdict. I am to experience all the pain I've inflicted over the course of my life, starting with my birth. Nothing but pain will course through my veins now. I will not know a sense of peace until I have undergone every little twinge.
This is ridiculous.
I try to protest, but my words have been reduced to guttural sounds. All they want is to hear me scream.
I close my eyes and think…
Caroline.