Chapter 1

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The darkness seemed to stretch on for an eternity. At least, it should have been eternal, I was dead after all. I hadn't been sure that the whole 'light at the end of the tunnel' concept was real, or if it was, whether it would apply to a creature like me, there certainly wasn't any sign of light or life where I was. Either way, something didn't feel quite right - because of course with my vast experience I was such an authority on the technical process of death.


I was dead, nothing could be more certain than that. The gaping hole where my throat had once been attested too as much, but I also knew I wasn't supposed to stay this way. Something else was supposed to happen now, the dark was not supposed to stay infinite. I was needed elsewhere, but in the dark I could not find where I needed to go.


It was an unusual feeling, being dead; almost like floating, but not quite. I felt weightless, as if my body had no substance - or was it that I no longer technically had a body? - and yet I could still feel myself. My fingers tingled; my eyes could see, if seeing nothing but darkness counted as seeing. The hole where my throat used to be before Frank ripped it out ached and stung like a bitch. I could open my mouth, but I couldn't speak, though I didn't know if that was because of the would that had killed me, or was it just the way of this place?


There was no sound, not even a whisper. In life I'd always believed I'd experienced moments of silence, but in that moment I realised just how wrong I'd been in that assumption. Nothing living is ever truly silent. But there it was thick and cloying; an all encompassing, true silence. I did not breathe, my heart did not beat. The silence, more than anything else, let me feel the truth of my own death, and it made me panic.


I wasn't supposed to stay this way, I was needed. I'd gone through all of this for a purpose, I hadn't died for nothing, but how in the hell did I get back? All was still black. Everywhere I looked - at least I think I looked, everything appeared the same - were endless stretches of nothingness in all directions. Was there no way out of this place?


The panic clenched at my chest, not needing to breathe didn't seem to stop me feeling as if I were hyperventilating. I had to go back. I'd given up my life for some greater purpose; or I thought I had. But if I didn't go back...had I sacrificed myself for nothing? And if I had, that meant, Jesse, Lucas, and hell even Frank were sure to be paying the consequences. Yet again other people would be suffering because of me. But then another thought dragged me to my knees, the fear almost overwhelming. What if they'd been behind it all? Had the ones I'd dared to trust orchestrated my death for no other purpose than to get me out of the way?


Crouched, shivering and shaking in the darkness, the overwhelming fear turned slowly to rage. I'd be damned if I was going to go out like this!I opened my mouth. Had I been whole and alive the roar of fury that I let out would have shaken the very rock foundations of Hell itself. Though, as it was, it began in silence; the anger rippling through my flesh and shaking my bones, building to a pinnacle that consumed me until a hollow rattle began to escape the gaping hole that my throat.


The flames of anger started small, a bright spot of heat at my core that grew outwards until I felt consumed by the fires. If I'd had real skin it would blister and char, I could almost feel the acrid stench of burning flesh in my nostrils, and I continued to scream, feeling the flaming heat of my anger as it consumed me.


The fires grew in their brilliance. A dull glow of light filtering through from the centre of the darkness, penetrating the very fabric of death itself. I felt so disembodied and disoriented that it took a while for me to notice that the light was coming from me, from whatever physical - or metaphysical perhaps - presence I had in that place. As I embraced my inner fury and let the flames roll over me the light grew bright and brighter until I was swallowed by the fires.

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