Author's Note: This is just a short intro to the main story, a teaser if you will. It's completely AU, and I have a main idea where I want to go with it, but you'll see that with the following chapters. I think it's going to be quite a ride, at least I hope it will, join me, will you? Reviews are nice, leave one please =)
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters used here and this is a pure work of fiction.
Prologue
It is known in life, that you live and you die.
There's no bargaining because of all the things in this world that are true, it's those two. They're hard facts, things that'll never change.
You scream your way into this world, take a gasping breath and you're living. You grow and you learn and then there are feelings and the world changes. You're the one that decides to stay still or change with the world, you make the decisions that sculpt you, that make you the person you project to the world. Your brain is wired with synapses that fuse together and spark emotions, in your lifetime you experience them all: anger, confusion, sadness to name a few and of course, unless you hate the world, there's also happiness and love and comfort.
When you die, you can feel any of those emotions. A person can take their last breath surrounded by their loved ones and feel the love and comfort those people surrounding them are giving out.
It's the other end of the scale you have to be careful of, for rage is not a nice way to die.
It's messy and it hurts and you repeat it over and over on an endless loop and you can't escape it, you can't break free, you're stuck.
You're probably wondering why I know this, how I managed to catch a glimpse of such horror. This is not a happy tale, the weak of heart should cover their ears and the ones who are brave enough should look away in shame. This is a reality and it's harsh and unnerving and once I speak the words you'll never look at me the same way again.
You see, the thing is, I'm dead.
I screamed my way out of this world the same way I screamed my way into it. Bloody and crying, only my breath was being squeezed out of me rather than flowing in to me and giving me life.
Rage is not pretty, it's petrifying. Take it from me, when you look into the eyes of someone who doesn't care, it's like you're looking into the eyes of death, only you know death's eyes are kinder. You see your own reflection in their eyes, see the pleading of your own face begging them to stop and let you live. You see your eyes dull and all that learning and growing you did over all the years of your life slip away to the endless nothing you'll never know. You'll feel a surge of every emotion, good and bad, you've ever felt flood away until all you know is sorrow and then there's pain and the synapses fall apart and degrade, just like your life and before you even have time to say goodbye, you're dead.
Some people get their happily ever after and it's a bright light, blinding and warm and welcoming and then there are the ones who have the gates opening and the torture begins, the voices whisper and whisper and never relent, they scream the pain they caused in their lives and for the rest of eternity they never get a moment of peace, which I guess is justice for their victims.
Then there's me, I walk this world never being seen and essentially I am less than a shadow.
I wish I could rest, but the souls who live in the in-between aren't privy to such tranquillity, we're stuck to wander and watch those in our previous lives live on. We watch them grow and live like we cannot, we want to reach and touch and when we give into the urge to do just that, our hand passes through. We watch them walk on and maybe still for a moment, like they felt the touch but they brush it off, because they have been taught, like we had that there is no such things as ghosts or spirits who walk the earth, there's just a body in the ground that ceased to breathe.
I can feel the pull of crossing over, it's just beyond the horizon and I walk to it but it never gets closer, I feel the warm brush of a bright light and then I blink and it's all grey and black.
This won't change, not until justice is found and the man who ended my life gets what he deserves.
Let's start at the beginning, where my lungs failed and the light in my eyes left me, where my last whisper was a plea for help.
My name is Stephanie McMahon and this is the story of how I died and the journey of a man who helped me move on.
There you have it, I hope you enjoyed it. If you did, review and give me a heads up on what you thought.