There are many different beliefs when it comes to death.

Christian beliefs about the afterlife vary between denominations and individual Christians, but vast majority of Christians believe in some kind of heaven, in which believers enjoy the presence of God and other believers and freedom from suffering and sin. Most of the Christians follow the idea that Jesus died on the cross for the sins (immoral acts) of humanity so that we could achieve salvation. There are references of heaven and hell in the Bible. It is clearly stated that those who do not follow and believe in Jesus will ultimately end up in Hell, whereas those who do will achieve salvation and end up in heaven. According to the Bible, there is a time to be born, and a time to die.

Muslims believe that the present is only a preparation for the next realm of existence. For them death is merely movement from one world to another. It can be described as a journey through a separate dimension of existence. The Prophet taught that three things can continue to help a person even after death; charity which he/she had given, knowledge which he/she has taught and prayers on their behalf by a righteous child.

Hinduism and Buddhism both strongly believe in reincarnation, for Buddhists, once a person dies on this earth he or she will be born to a new life here and the status of that life depends on the work he or she did before his or her previous death. For Hindus, death is regarded as a natural process in the existence of soul and separate entity. When a person dies, the soul travels for some time to another world and finally returns again to the earth to continue its journey.

The role of religion in death is immense and when it comes to death, you simply cannot ignore the religious viewpoints. Of course, Emilia never really thought anything about it any way. She never expected to die so early, after all. Not at the tender age of seventeen. She expected to live, get married, perhaps even have some children. She wanted all that, the whole package. She wanted the husband, kids, white picket fence. There was nothing Emilia desired more. However, her wishes weren't meant to be.

Her parents weren't the best there were, but they were there. They went to her dance recitals, her gymnastic performances and her ice skating competitions. She was brilliant at that, the ice skating. She was the best nationally, and was supposed to go to the 2018 Olympics in South-Korea, because she was that good. Emilia wasn't the best academically, she was average, but that was okay because she made up in what she lacked with her physical devotion. She was in clubs, aside from her training schedule for both ballet and ice skating, and was the star of the gymnastic team.

Her mother and father were there for her. They supported her. Even though she rarely saw them, her father was a businessman for some technical company that was doing quite well and thus had to travel a lot and her mother was a fashion designer, they were there during the most important times in her life. They truly loved her.

Which is why it was such a surprise that she was murdered by her own father in a drunken rage.

It all went rather quickly, really. Apparently his company had lost a big deal that they couldn't afford to lose and they blamed it on him. He came home early, took every bottle of alcohol we had from the cellar and retreated to his office, filling the house with noises of glass and other objects smashing and breaking into pieces. Emilia's trainer was ill and she had gotten herself injured so she had a day off school and training, and Emilia had grown worried. So she carefully made her way to his office and opened the door

"Daddy?" Emilia tentatively said, carefully walking into the room. Her footsteps were soft, but she had a slight limp which made walking a bit more difficult. She could see him sitting in his chair, bottle in his hand and suit messed up. "What?!" He hissed, glaring at her as she proceeded to move closer. Her father had a history with alcohol, but he had been clean for years now. The fact that he had grabbed the bottles meant things weren't good, and she reminded herself of it as she stood before him. Emilia gently pried his fingers from the bottle, and then placed it down on his desk. "You shouldn't drink, daddy. Everything will be fine." she said. He stood up quickly and she stepped back, his expression frightening her.

He walked closer to her and with every step Emilia took back, he took a step forward until her back hit the wall. "You will not tell me what to do." He yelled at her, grabbing her wrist tightly, squeezing it. "I am your father, you will respect me!" Fear crept up to her, she had seen him like this before, but that was during his alcoholic years. He used to be very abusive, verbally and emotionally mostly. After he swore off alcohol he begged Emilia and her mother to forgive him, and they did, but they never forgot. He pulled Emilia towards him roughly, but she lost her footing and tripped. She fell past him and hit her head on the corner of the desk.

Pain erupted from her head and she was dizzy, lying there on the ground while desperately trying to steady herself a bit. Emilia could hear him scrambling for something from his desk before crouching beside her.

"You will not tell me what to do. Ever." His rough voice said and he moved swiftly. Pain, worse than the one from her head, erupted in Emilia's chest and she choked, the air refusing to enter her lungs. She gasped for air, but it just wouldn't come. As her right hand flew to her chest, her left curled into his arm, grasping and, she was sure, scratching him harshly. Emilia felt something sticking out of her chest and gently touched it. She looked down for confirmation and tears filled her eyes. Her own father had stabbed her in the heart.

Emilia looked at him, disbelief and betrayal in her eyes. The tears were rolling down her face. She could see no form of regret in his green eyes, merely disgust.

"W-why?" was all she managed to stutter. Emilia took a proper last look at him, his face, before everything slowly but surely turned black.

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When she woke up it was dark and uncomfortable. She felt cramped. Emilia couldn't move and thus became frantic, pushing her feet against the walls that confined her, but her feet wouldn't move like she wanted them too. She became confused but desperate for a way out of this place. Emilia was still in shock with what happened. She remembered her father hurting her, killing her, so why was she here? Did she survive? A strong feeling of betrayal filled her even more and she started kicking against her confinement with abandon, not sparing any of the walls. Then the walls of her confinement lit up a bit and Emilia could see a shadow moving over it, which was strangely enough in the form of a hand, and a soft voice mumbling something in a language she couldn't properly understand. The gentle voice calmed her slightly and she was growing tired, much like hypnosis. Emilia gave one last stubborn kick to the walls before she succumbed to the voice lulling her into a deep sleep.

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She didn't know how long she was in there. Time seemed to pass slowly and Emilia felt as if years had gone by. The gentle voice would be there a lot, murmuring soft words and singing gentle songs. It would often be joined by a rough voice, speaking into the same language as the other person. The shadow hands appeared quite often too, one larger than the other. She had figured out they were a man and woman, possibly people visiting her. But they weren't her parents, so who were they? Her mind relaxed again as the woman sang to her, once again putting her to sleep quite easily. Emilia felt a slight resentment for how easy it was for the voice to control her like this but consented to her body's need.

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Emilia was awoken when her confines became tighter, impossibly tight. They squeezed her harshly and she kicked back to gain herself some room but it didn't work. The stress and angst creeped up on her as she was squeezed tightly and pushed through a tight canal, given no room to stretch or move in any way. Her face was pressed together and she squirmed. Emilia was claustrophobic; she didn't like this, at all. She was pushed through, and it was torture. The angst slowly lessened as Emilia saw a bright light at the end of the tight canal and she was desperate to get to it, to the release of her pain both mentally and physically. It seemed to take ages, but she was pushed out with one last push and felt someone grab a hold of her head. That freaked her out, because hands shouldn't fit around her head like that, but the sheer relieve of being out of her confinement sent Emilia crying. A large sob, following by loud screeches filled the room she was in.

She could hear people scurrying around her, feel people touching her as I was lain down on something soft and another set of hands cradled her. Panting filled Emilia's ears and something inside of her clicked. This wasn't right.

She opened her eyes with difficulty, her vision extremely blurry. Her cries had ceased as she looked up slightly. Above her was a large face, the face of a woman and a man was beside her, softly caressing Emilia's head.

What? No, no, no, no. This was not happening. No. This only happened in those cheesy films and TV shows, not in real life.

Above her was a, for as far as she could see with her blurry vision, beautiful blond-haired woman and a handsome blond-haired man, both looking down on her. They were speaking in a foreign language but couldn't take their eyes off her. Emilia freaked out.

A baby. She was a baby.

God, what did she do to deserve this?

Hello!

This is my new story, Surrender. This is a prologue, which is why it is shorter. Far Away Dreams, Worlds Apart and a new version of Tracing Footsteps will all be updated in the coming few days, but info about that will be on my profile page. I hope you will read them and enjoy them as much as I enjoyed writing them.

Love,

Sarah.