Then You Are Gone

Interview Chapter

A spotlight aims at the red curtain, where the words THEN YOU ARE GONE are written. The curtain clichely parts and reveals a boy in black trench coat, standing in the middle of the stage. Around him are three people--Paris, Ian, Hannah--seated in a L-shaped beige leather couch.

The crowd of forty or so people applauds. Someone whistles.

"Hello, everyone. John's the name, and it's nice to know you all are still here. We are in an alternate universe, conducting a character interview, something that will happen in every end of my books. Now, brace yourself for a long, coma-inducing interview." Behind him, Hannah snorts. "Let's start!"

John takes a deck of cards from the breastpocket of his coat. In each cards, a question given by audience are written. He deftly shuffles it and randomly picks one.

"For the first question." John flips the card. "For Hannah! This question was asked by TheCringeWriters: When you woke up, did you think about Ian? Did you think he was alive?"

Hannah looks at Ian and contemplates the question. "When I woke up? Not really. At least not straightaway. I only thought of him when I saw my mom's phone. And yes, it never crossed my mind that maybe he's dead, until weeks passed without him, visiting me."

"I am still alive, and speaking," Ian chirps.

Hannah rolls her eyes, smiling.

John smiles and takes a card. "Moving on. This one is for Paris, from Samantha0552. She asked: When you found out Ian was texting Hannah by pretending to be you, did you want to tell Hannah?"

Paris straightens from his seat and looks at the crowd. "Yeah, I do. But I'd like Ian to do that, not me, so I refrained."

John nods and shuffles the deck of cards. He takes another one. "This one is for Hannah, from nicola216: How did you react when you read all of the messages Ian sent to you?"

"I was conflicted. I, even though this is somehow embarrassing to admit, I cried, because I didn't know what he was going through. That, and that I know that he can't hear my apology anymore."

"There's a follow up question: Why didn't you want to hear what he had to say? Why didn't you listen to his side of the story?"

Hannah shrugs weakly. "I want to, but my car and the rain and my driving skills didn't let me. I should have listened to him and stopped driving and let him come to me instead."

Ian releases a breath. "You know, instead of him and he, you can use my name. It's starting to irritate me, this pronoun-referring thing. I'm still alive for heaven's sake!"

Hannah looks up, rather dramatically. "It's so sad. Sometimes, I can hear him talking to me."

Ian gives her a look. Half of the crowd laughs.

John shakes his head, smiling. "Okay, the next question is for you, Ian. This one was asked by several people: Why didn't you wait? Why did you have to die?"

Ian takes a deep breath. "First of all, this is a bad way of questioning. Second, this Ian-is-dead thing is weirding me out. Why do I have to be here to answer this?"

"Just answer it," John says simply.

Ian relents. "Fine. Maybe that Ian can't take the pain anymore. Maybe he's fed up, and he thought that's the only way out."

"You just pronoun-ed yourself," Hannah points out.

Ian arches his eyebrow. "And?"

"... drew."