So I had an idea. Let's see where this goes.
The year is 2004 and Jake is 24.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Death is a funny thing. "The Great Equalizer". it doesn't give a shit who you are or what you did. You could be the person that cures cancer or a lowly homeless person; death will come for you all the same. I'd been thinking about death and the afterlife in the weeks up until my death. There is a whole lot of religions that say they know where you go after death. Some say it's based on works and all that shit. I'm fucking screwed. It's straight to Hell for me. If I could choose how to die it would've been in my sleep. Quick, painless and I wouldn't see it coming. But no I had watch my dad bleed out on my lap before the gunman finally takes me out.
I opened my eyes and it was really dark. I shivered and rubbed my bare arms. Is this Hell? If so I expected it to be like a lake of fire or something extremely hot but it was like a meat locker. I could see my breath and started shuffling forwards. I reached out and felt glass and realized it was a window. I looked out it and saw the old oak tree with the tire swing on a rope that dad helped me with when I was 10. I turned away and fumbled along the wall for a light switch. This is my room. I'm still at my house. What? Why am I still here? I died didn't I? I ran downstairs and yep i definitely died. I'm literally staring at my dead body, and dad's body on my lap. Blood was everywhere and the house was ransacked. Red and blue lights shone through the windows and I heard the wail of the sirens. People rushed in and put me and my dad in body bags and the yellow tape was placed on the door in the shape of an 'X'. So I guess I'm stuck at my house? Well then. I sat down in the middle of my living room and sighed.
