01 • Annoying Afterlife
Death. I am dead. At least, I'm pretty sure I'm dead. Floating in complete nothingness as nothing counts as dead, right? Well, then can I just say, I expected a lot more from death. A hell lot more. Where the fuck am I? Why am I not in Hell but here? Is this the fucking purgatory? Am I on some fucking waiting list? Is this some waiting room?
Can there even be a waiting room in death? I mean, I get it, a lot of people die everyday but this shit should not take this long. I don't even know how long it has been. It's not like I can just die every once in a while and come back to check the damn time. Does time even pass on death? How the fuck does this even work? Is an hour here like a century in reality in which humanity has evolved to the point that superpowers exist?
Ah, but if that happened then imagine all the purges that would occur. It's common knowledge that humans don't like new or strange things. It would be the Witch Trials and Hunts all over again but with superpowers that could be proven and not just accusing the next door neighbor of performing voodoo just because the bitch Cheryl living there didn't return the damn pot and pepper shaker.
I loved that pot and pepper shaker, some of only things I could take with me as I traveled and that stupid bitch still hasn't returned them after ten fucking years. If only I could have accused her of being a witch to watch her burn while holding my returned pot and pepper shaker. Why couldn't the times have been like the good old days? They had some pretty neat stuff! The French has the guillotine and disease was an accepted form of warfare and-
And I'm getting off topic damnit!
I should be in Hell, surrounded by fire, cringing at high-pitched tortured screams, and flipping off that guy that shot me dead. Not floating around in the pitch black void with nothing but my thoughts! This isn't the type of Hell I signed up for!
If I wanted to be stuck with only my thoughts in the dark then I never would have ran away from home! This is bullshit! I didn't become one of the — if not the — most feared figures in the underworld for this sort of treatment. I demand a refund! What is so fucking difficult about sending me to Hell!?
"There's an entire process when it comes to assigning an afterlife. And it is very tedious," an slightly annoyed male voice calls out so suddenly that I almost don't notice the extremely bright white light appearing before me. Almost, because I do and the Light, as many call it, is a little punk ass bitch that fucking blinds me.
I blink slowly, trying to get rid of the black dots in my vision while taking in my surroundings. First off, I have a body again. Secondly, I'm in a chair. Thirdly, I'm...in a courtroom? What?
The room is large enough to be a small movie theater. On either side of me are elevated stands with five people sitting each. In front of me is an elevated desk where two males sit. The one to my left is smirking down at me, wearing a black and red suit with pitch black hair and eyes. The one to my left is smiling down at me, wearing a white and grey suit with light blonde hair and light blue eyes. I barely resist the urge to flip him off.
"Welcome back Miss Hethingway," the one in black says, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the desk.
What the fuck is this guy on? Welcome back? Didn't think the afterlife would have stoners running the place. No wonder it's taking so long to be taken to Hell.
The blonde man smacks him on the arm, frowning disapprovingly. "Honestly Dave," he sighs tiredly. What kind of basic ass name- Dave? Seriously? Is blonde going to be Bob?
He turns to look at me, smiling in a sort of soft but tired way. It honestly isn't a good look on him. He sits up, shuffling some papers in front of him before picking one up. He seems to quickly read it over with Dave peeking over his shoulder for a quick second. Dave snorts, looking between the paper and I.
"The fuck is your problem, Dave?" I snap, finally getting annoyed. Wait. Why did I call him by his name?
"Well, you see sweetheart, you're going to have one hell of an adventure soon," he smirks, looking all smug for some wack-ass reason. It doesn't help that I have the sudden urge to punch it off his stupid face. Seriously, what the fuck is going on? I am much more calm in these types of situations.
"Oh, stop antagonizing her," Blonde finally cuts in, putting the paper down with a grimace. It makes me frown for some reason.
"We should probably explain some things. We don't have much time," he says to Dave who rolls his eyes but straightens up.
"Whatever you say Charles," Dave waves, picking up a black folder and passing it to the...juries - I honestly don't know who these extras are - on his side while Charles does the same with a white folder.
"As I said earlier, when pulling you out of the void, assigning an afterlife is a tedious process," Charles begins, folding his hands together and leaning forward. "We, the representatives of the common Heaven and Hell, must go through the amount of points a person collects throughout their Life and what religion they most favored to assign their afterlife."
That..makes sense. I never thought that there would be a whole fucking system in place but I suppose with all the religions there are, it would make things easier. So the void really was the waiting room!
"Okay, so this should be a pretty quick process right? There is no way I'm going to Heaven," I say, crossing my arms and leaning back. I'll be surrounded by fire soon enough.
"Unfortunately doll," Dave cuts in, genuinely looking forlorn, "you have acquired an equal amount of points in your Life. This makes you unfit for any of the afterlives. A shame because I would have loved to have you over in Hell. You seem fun."
"What do you mean 'equal amount of points'? Why the fuck am I not going to Hell?" I ask, quickly standing. I turn to Dave partially, "And I am fun. Too fun for your dumbass."
He cackles and Charles rolls his eyes while smiling.
"You have done equal amounts of good and bad in your Life," Charles answers my question, bringing us back to the topic.
"I call bullshit," I immediately deny.
He raises a brow, looking amused as he pulls out another folder. He opens it and begins to read some things off. "Getting cats out of trees. Anonymous donations to various children's hospitals and orphanages. Getting a great amount of kids off the streets and out of abusive households. I could go on but it all comes back to one thing: you're a hero to these children."
I scoff, looking away. "I am no hero."
Dave laughs even harder, "We'll see about that."
"The fuck is that supposed to mean asshole?"
"Anyways," Charles cuts again, looking slightly annoyed now, "it's very rare for someone to die with exactly equal points. You're essentially stuck in limbo until we figure something out. However, the...higher-ups, so to say, have already assigned you something."
"The higher-ups?" I question, incredulous. The afterlife exists, got it. Heaven and Hell are the common places, got it. All religions are essentially right and wrong, got it. But, the higher-ups? I'm supposed to believe that some wack-ass Gods are invested in me and what happens to me? "Again, I call bullshit."
"Too bad, so sad. You're not exactly given a choice in this doll," Dave shrugs, grinning to my glare. Bastard.
"Right, whatever. So what the fuck did the 'higher-ups' assign?" I roll my eyes, falling back into the chair.
Dave grins, seeming to almost bounce in place in his excitement. Charles smiles, much more reserved, and looks slightly apologetic as he pulls another paper out.
"You, Anna Hethingway, have been assigned Reincarnation."
"Say the fuck what now?"
"Reincarnation."
"No shit, I heard him the first time Sherlock. I want to know why."
"Oh don't look so angry, you'll love it!" Dave dismisses easily, sounding confident. Too confident. What the hell is really going on here and why the fuck do I suddenly have a headache?!
"Ah, time's up. I was hoping to explain some more this time," Charles sighs. This time?
Before I can angrily question them, my headache intensifies and my vision blurs. Just as my vision begins to darken and I feel the chair beneath me give away, I can hear Dave's obnoxious voice laugh.
"She'll be fine! She always is."
The fuck is that supposed to mean! That asshole! When I see him again, I'm gonna strangle him!
I barely lift my middle finger up in his general-ish direction before everything goes dark and I'm falling rapidly.
ʕง•ᴥ•ʔง
Reincarnation is just another form of being brought back to life, right? Right. So, why the hell couldn't have I been turned into a zombie to start the apocalypse? Why a new life, a new start? And why the absolute fuck am I starting off as a motherfucking fetus!
It's completely dark, I can't feel my limbs, and I'm warm, feeling safe. That isn't right! I've worked with more than fifty gangs, mobs, whatever the fuck you wanna call them, and safety is not in my dictionary. Not when you're me. The one person who is notorious for skipping out on deals last second and stealing from everyone's noses. The person that acts as a liaison between mobs, mafias, and gangs because she's a freelance badass. The person that had dirt on everyone. Safety is not a feeling I know - at all.
Which, adding up the facts, concludes that I am a fetus. As in, I'm unborn. Why the fuck am I still in the womb! I didn't agree to this shit! I didn't agree to any of this! I should be in Hell, mocking the other scumbags down there and trying to fight all the bastards that tried, and mostly failed, to kill me or have me killed.
Not this! Never this! Stuck in the dark and unable to move or do anything, left alone with my thoughts like...like- like I was a child again, trapped and alone and-
For fuck's sake. Had I any control of any of my limbs - which I still don't know if I even have - I'd be flailing around right now in anger. Damn, how long has it been? I couldn't be losing my senses so early on. I'm better than that, than this. Think, Anna, think.
A new life, a new start, a clean slate, a second chance.
Will I still have black hair and black eyes? What would my nationality be? What will my new parents be like? Will I have siblings? A big family (I already had a big family, not another, never ano-)? Will I be a first-born, or second-born? Will my new family be wealthy, middle-class, or poor? Does the family carry any genetic diseases or disabilities?
A new life, a new start, a clean slate, a second chance.
I wonder if I could have brown hair this time. Blonde is too light for my tastes, easy to pick out in a crowd. The same goes for ginger and red hair. And my eyes? Blue, green, or brown? They're the most common three, not counting black. Or could I have the rare heterochromia?
A new life, a new start, a clean slate, a second chance.
What should I do in this new life? I could always go back to a life of crime. Shouldn't be too hard since I started some time in my teens and died somewhere in my thirties. When constantly on the run and hiding from the law, a birthday becomes the least of your concerns very quickly.
A new life, a new start, a clean slate, a second chance.
Or...or I could finish school and actually succeed in something other than thievery and murder. I could become a painter! On second thought, maybe not. I have the imagination of a rock. I could become a dancer! I was pretty flexible as..Anna...shit, what's my name going to be? Fuck. Wait. Am I even still going to be female!?
A new life, a new start, a clean slate, a second chance.
ʕง•ᴥ•ʔง
My thoughts constantly drifted. It got to the point I simply was and lost all my senses, letting time go by. I don't know how long I've been here, in the womb. I didn't bother with trying to keep a mental clock, the numbers would only have pissed me off eventually. I saw enough of them when counting my goods and other's.
I tried keeping myself occupied with thinking about all the good times I had during my life of crime. Like all the good car chases I got in, and the gun fights, and the great satisfaction felt after a successful steal and get away.
All in all, I was bored as fuck. So, it came as a terrifyingly great surprise when I moved. I never noticed myself growing, knowing that it'll be a long nine months. So when I somehow felt something warm and slimy against my foot, I freaked and kicked again involuntarily.
Like, holy shit, I have limbs again! Wait, what would that mean about time? When do babies usually start kicking? Was it the second or third trimester? Second sounds logical but fuck if I know, I'm not a doctor.
It went like that for some time, testing how much I could move and interact with the world around me, or well, the womb around me. I could spasmodically move my arms and legs, which was disappointing but expected. I could also feel when someone lightly pushes down on the area I kicked or hit. I almost feel sorry for my new...mother, with how much I moved.
But I'm pretty sure my actions could be justified. I mean, who wouldn't freak the fuck out when they suddenly realized they aren't alone! Suddenly feeling limbs not your own isn't fun! At all! It's a fucking nightmare!
I can't believe I completely forgot the possibility of twins or triplets. Fuck, I hope it's only a twin. I don't think I can handle feeling even more limbs that are not my own. The darkness only became even more annoying with the new revelation of not being alone. It's about to get even more cramped now.
I need the fuck out.
And sleep.
Sleep is more plausible than being born at the moment. Sleep is probably more important too, with all the moving I did. I wonder if I'll be pronounced dead from not moving. Or will I move unknowingly in sleep? Shit, can I even sleep? Is drifting into the abyss of being the closest I'll get to sleeping?
...I really need sleep. And coffee. Maybe with a shot of vodka. And some energy drinks mixed in.
I didn't sign up for this stupid ass shit.
ʕง•ᴥ•ʔง
So, sleep is apparently nonachievable when you've got the scarred mind of a thirty-something year old. Drifting doesn't really help and I'm pretty sure that I'm developing a phobia of being bored, if that's even possible.
Why couldn't I be reincarnated by waking up one day as a three-year-old? Or on the day of my birth? Why the fuck must I go through the fetus phase!?
Let me be born already for fuck's sake!
The universe must have gotten annoyed with my complaining because before I knew it, the walls (which I couldn't fucking see) began closing in. Pressure was pushed against me on all sides, making it hard to move. For a second I panicked that something dangerous was happening in the real world then I was being pushed.
It is a very odd feeling, not one I want to be repeated. Hopefully I'll stay dead in this life.
As the pressure continued to push against my tiny body, I was pressed against what I'm assuming is my twin. I pushed away as best I could, kicking my twin away unapologetically. I'm getting out of here first, damnit! I began to wiggle my way to the direction the darkness keeps pushing me towards. Hopefully it's the exit.
My very minuscule strength was leaving me quickly, leaving me exhausted and annoyed. Then more pressure was applied and I could suddenly see light behind my closed eyelids. Of course, there was a consequence to suddenly being born, head first at that. Pressure pressed all around my head, reminding me of that time some asshole shoved my head in a cabinet and slammed it shut. I returned the favor before shooting him dead. I wonder if I would have seen him had I been sent to hell. Would he have remembered me? I'd like to think so since I was the last person he saw and I did kill him.
I brought out my wandering thoughts very quickly by bright light and the sudden urge to breathe. Gasping, I flail my arms suddenly realizing I was out. I was out of the annoying darkness and in the even more annoying light, being passed around.
Then some bastard thought it'd be a good idea to slap my baby bum. What the fuck doc! Can't you see I'm perfectly fine and alive! No need for that shit here! Why don't you do something more useful and productive like help my still birthing mother because her screams are starting to become really annoying and I'm already getting a damn headache!
This is not a good start to my new life.
And I just know that Dave is laughing his ass off. I'll gut the little bastard next time I see him. That's a motherfucking promise.
ʕง•ᴥ•ʔง
Yay! Another rewrite done!
