Paradise Among Metal

Chapter 15

"Thank you, Mister, uh..."

"Errid. My name is Errid."

Lucy took another gulp of the water. "So, how was I murdered? Who was I?"

Errid sighed. "I knew you'd ask those questions. You should probably sit down for this. Your afterlife will change forever after I tell you."

Lucy spotted a leather couch in the lobby and sat down. Errid plopped down next to her. He took a deep breath before beginning.

"Your name was Meredith Olivia Ackerman, and you lived in Mount Lake, Colorado, in the United States. Despite the fact that your mother and stepfather neglected you, you were a happy, talkative child. You would talk everyone's ears off, regardless if they wanted to talk or not. In fact-" he chuckled, "-you didn't have much of a filter between your mouth and your head. Your mouth got you into tons of trouble. Once, you told your fifth grade teacher about your mother's masturbation habits. Needless to say, you were sent to the office."

"Back at the hospital, I talked a lot," Lucy/Meredith said, beginning to bounce her leg. "I always felt lonely and somewhat different, though. I never really fit in, even though the more popular kids talked a lot. Also, sometimes I'm kinda quiet."

"After that incident in fifth grade, the school had you sent to a therapist, who diagnosed you with ADHD and autism spectrum disorder. Your parents didn't care, and you never took any medication or therapy or anything. They insisted you weren't 'retarded'. As a result, you did horribly in school, were often bullied by the popular kids who you thought were your friends, and eventually developed depression."

Memories surfaced in Meredith's mind. She remembered groups of kids, her "friends", mocking her permanent stream of conversation, and her parents' faces. She also remembered her school, what her house looked like, and other random details about her life. And of course, she remembered depression.

It felt a lot like the Perimeter hospital.

"Oh yeah, you also had an older brother, Joshua, I think his name was. He was always pretty nice to you, but when you reached middle school, he became a pothead and did nothing but smoke it. He too neglected you, but in a more indirect way. But at least he wasn't like your parents."

Errid took a deep breath before continuing. "Both of them were lazy, abusive alcoholics who were all-around horrible people, and who were too lazy to divorce until soon after your death. Your stepfather just sat in front of the TV all day, watching sports, drinking, and yelling at you, your brother, and your mother. All he cared about was his beer and TV. Your mother was the same way, but she was a secret prostitute. That's how your household stayed afloat, money-wise. Every night, she'd go out and sleep with a bunch of people, then come home and pass out drunk for a while, before repeating the cycle. Your parents barely gave a damn about you, only recognizing your existence when prompted to by you or someone else. It's a miracle Child Protective Services didn't take you and your brother at some point, the way they neglected you and you with your motor mouth."

Meredith's eyes filled with tears as she remembered them and the way the house always reeked of alcohol, how she and Joshua used to steal their mother's money so they could go shopping and buy food, clothes, and toys, et cetera. How she and Joshua did all the cleaning and laundry. How she used to cry in her room at night and pray to be taken away.

Errid slung his arm around her, noticing her tears. "I can stop if you want."

Meredith shook her head. "No, it's fine. I want to know how I died."