Chapter 1
She knows they are expecting her to be okay. Maybe take a few days to cry and then fall back into her normal routines. Even now they are waiting for her downstairs – not even 24 hours since she had spit grave dirt from her mouth.
So instead of going downstairs she stares at her own reflection in the mirror and pretends she is okay.
She closes her eyes and see heaven flicker for just a moment…. If she could just step forward, reach out…
Her fingertips touch the cool glass and her eyes shoot open. Heaven disappears from her sight, a cruel daydream (a pleasant nightmare).
She’s not in heaven.
She’s alive instead.
She forces her thoughts to move forward, to not stumble on this truth. To think about more than heaven behind her eyelids and grave dirt under her nails.
Had she never died, being alive would have been OK. More than ok, really. This would be what her friend’s thought. Would expect.
She rationalized (lied) to herself.
If she wasn’t in heaven
(she was in hell)
She must be alive
(she was in hell)
If she was alive
(she was in hell)
She was okay
The image of heaven threatens (beckons) her vision again so she shakes her head and pretends her knuckles aren’t white from clutching onto nothing.
She walks downstairs.
(Into hell).
