The Flames that Engulfed Us

Chapter 16: The Fun Discussion of Death by the Already Deceased

However much I wanted to, however many reasons I gave myself to, I couldn't hate Kassidy. I tried to look at her. She talked too much. I liked it when she told me things. I wanted to despise the way she made me feel so comfortable with her upbeat voice, but I needed to relax.

Lincoln didn't leave me. He didn't seem fully present either, just staring at an object that didn't have any significance that I could see.

Kassidy was running out of things to tell me.

"So," she leaned forward, "if you don't mind me asking, how did you die? I can't see any physical anything on either of you."

"Suffocation," Lincoln answered dully. So, he was paying attention.

"Help me understand," Kassidy questioned, confused, "like someone smothered you in your sleep or what?"

Lincoln didn't say anything.

"We died in a fire at our school. The smoke is really what killed us. We couldn't breathe."

"That's horrible. Did anyone else die with you?"

I looked at her. "I don't know."

Kassidy shifted uncomfortably. Which made me wonder, was she human? Had she died?

"What about you? How did you die?"

She looked down. It seemed like she wasn't going to say anything when she looked back to me. She looked so vulnerable, for a moment I wanted to cancel her telling me.

"I died in my sleep. It wasn't anything very violent or expected. I just went to bed one night and woke up on a beach with a man in a suit telling me I was dead. I asked him how I died. He told me that my blood sugar had gone through the roof. I'd always had type one diabetes to the point where I had to be on constant medication. It wasn't really that surprising when he explained it all."

Lincoln's voice came gently as her voice cracked. "You didn't feel anything though?"

She shook her head. "No."

"Why are you here? It doesn't seem like you're the type of person who belongs in hell." I prompted again.

"I don't belong here. The same man who told me I had died told me I was an angel. He told me I could wait for a loved one, so I wouldn't be so alone. I took him up on his offer. One of my friends committed suicide soon after. I was given the option to go to heaven alone or go to hell with her. I think you know which one I chose."

"What happened to your friend?" I asked softly.

"She left me. I started to be able to do things that she got jealous of me being able to do. I couldn't sleep at night, so I got up and wandered around. She didn't like that. She got possessive. Hell isn't meant to make you happy. It's meant to destroy everything you love. We parted ways."

Lincoln looked at me. "There are other angels in hell?"

"Yeah," Kassidy confirmed, "but most of them lose whatever it was that would have got them into heaven. They say or do things that make them deserve hell, and then they have to spend lifetimes rebuilding that."

"What kinds of things are those?"

"The big thing seems to be splitting up with the soul they came with and betraying them somehow. The other thing is just an accumulation of small things. You don't say please or thank you. You litter. Things like that. But for souls, it doesn't really matter. It's much harder to try and redeem yourself to get into heaven."

When Lincoln opened his mouth for another question, she cut him off.

"Why are you suddenly so interested in our conversation," she demanded. There was another point for her. She was smart. She knew what was going on. Stupid angel.

"Because it's relevant to me now."

Kassidy seemed surprised by the frank truthfulness of his answer.

"How is all this junk about angels relevant to you?"

Lincoln looked frail in that moment. "Look at her. Do you honestly think she belongs here with me?"

Kassidy considered that for a moment. "Skylar's an angel?"

It wasn't they type of question that was meant to be answered. It just sort of lingered in the air. We all knew I was too breakable. It was so obvious that someone guessed it in less than an hour. It didn't feel like a compliment. It didn't feel like a good thing to be nice. That was all anybody would say if they couldn't think of anything better. She's nice. She's kind.

"Angels are rare. Most of the time, the soul just stays and mooches off the angel, dragging them down to the point where it's not an option if they want to stay anymore. I've seen it happen. Heck, I've even lived it. But you two, at least right now, seem different. You seem like you both love each other. You can make this work."

"I hope so," Lincoln whispered, "I really hope so."

"We can do it," I smiled, "we already have."

Then I had another thought. Kassidy had been one of the fake Skylars. That didn't fit. She didn't seem like the type of person who would do that.

"Kassidy," I murmured, my smile faltering, "why are you here? Why did you look exactly like me?"

She shifted uncomfortably. She didn't look filled with regret, only awkward at having to explain her actions. "You do what you need to here. The sooner you learn what you're willing to compromise to survive, the better."

Isn't that what serial killers say? Isn't that the justification for so many bad things? But the thing was, I couldn't say I blamed Kassidy. She was a survivor. I'd already proved I wasn't. I proved that the first time I was faced with something difficult, something that I could have survived by following the person ahead of me, I couldn't stay alive. I chose the life of someone I barely knew over my own.

I sucked. I wasn't in a place to judge Kassidy. But it did make me wonder, is there a level of bad that once you reconcile it, nothing else bothers you? And people change. People are affected by their environments more than we like to acknowledge, and it doesn't always change them for the better.

I mean, take school as an example. One kid decides to run with scissors. It looks fun, so someone else joins in. Soon you have a classroom full of kids running with scissors and you can't stop them. The one kid changed the rest of the kids, so they're all threats to the safety of themselves and everyone around them. That is not based off a true example, just a potential event that could occur. And that may have occurred. In first grade. While the teacher left the room.

Look, the point isn't that I remember that event, it's that I decided to allow Kassidy to do what she had to do to survive. This was hell, and her Lincoln had abandoned her in it. Not to brag, but I like mine Lincoln better.