I have to keep reminding myself that everyone in the universe hates me. Doesn't bother me that much – hey! I'm still a celebrity – but the way He spoke that last line, it felt like a curse that chilled whatever makes up my interior. I've never really imagined dying. I mean, I wouldn't go to Heaven or Hell, they both threw me out when I worked for them each. I'm sure they wouldn't take me dead. I would just…not exist.
At least I wouldn't be dragging in this hell of a dreamscape I live in. And my friends would be free of their curse, to live as deformed amalgamates of their previous selves. Maybe in that blink of death, I can remember what true freedom feels like.
"I'll play this game of yours. How long until I die?"