a fate with Death

It's me, Death.

II. It's me, Death.

It happened all too fast.

The fall was immediate, but at the same time it was slow and intense. The brief moment I had while it felt like I was floating, was the most exciting I had felt. The cold wind slapping across my face and the gravitational pull of the earth, sneaking closer only to stop when I felt my skull crack.

Unlike I planned, the excruciating pain took me off my senses and made me both, numb and wobble around in my pool of blood. The cold gooey liquid covered me as I lay on my back, trying to look at the dark sky and pointedly find the moon.

Seconds seemed like hours in that mobile helpless state. It did not occur to me that the instant death I wished for, was not really instant. Each second of it was hell, or maybe even worse than hell. My brain kept flashing back on the life I lived, and I glanced through all the memories, the sad, the worse and the happier ones.

The ones where I had a life, and I lived to tell the tale.

The one where I lived like my name.

And then, everything faded from red to white and then final to black.

The kind of black that could drive you insane. The one where you could not hear or feel anything. Not even the voices in your head.

Lub dub... lub.... dub....

I woke up with a gasp, holding my head and trying to breathe. My stomach churned and I puked the coffee I had that evening, trying not to choke on the contents.

"Olivia Vane."

The raspy voice sent chills down my spine - which was still intact - and at the same time, it made my ears bleed.

Not just as a figure of speech.

The voice was piercing each cell in my body, and felt like someone was pulling each one out by their bare hands. If there was ever a voice that could scare someone to death, it was Death's.

My hands clasped against my ears, when I looked up from my knees to the owner of that deathly voice. The place smelled like rotten egg and fish mixed together and really hot for some reason.

Was this hell? Am I in hell?

I mean, I did nothing to deserve hell, so atleast I should be placed in purgatory right?

The ground was rock solid, and I could see the burn marks on my feet that were caused by the hot rocks. It was difficult standing on them, but there was no escape since the entire ground seemed like a hot mess.

I adjusted the glasses on my face. "What is this place?"

Apparently even in the underworld, you have to deal with your glasses. They never really leave you, I suppose.

"This sweet tart, is your personal hell."

Sweet Tart.

That name brought back memories. Memories that pricked more than the burning hot flames from the ground. I looked at the man who sat on a red sofa, scrolling on his flip phone and for a second, my heartbeats dropped at the sight.

Was I seeing this right?

Was the man seated on the very familiar looking couch - the one I abandoned last year due to bedbugs - the same man from my past?

"Sam?" I had not taken a step but still found myself approaching the man who had left me a decade ago. But, I could tell from the way he looked at me.

That was not my Sam.

"Sam?" The man chuckled, taking his eyes off his phone and locking them with mine. "I do not like that name. Basic."

His voice still made me quiver in the dark. It brought a wave of anxiety and made me want to die.