Chapter 1
This is not how I imagined my death. I've always imagined a dramatic last hour; me as an old woman lying in bed with all my grandchildren surrounding me, with my husband holding my hand while his tears dripped upon my cheek. Unfortunately, that’s not what happened. You can blame the bottle of Advil and flask of Jack Daniels for my untimely demise. All I remember from that night is locking myself up in my room and swallowing the two ingredients in my “recipe for death.” I slowly fell asleep on the hardwood floor and never woke up.
***
I awoke. I stood up and found myself in the most beautiful place I'd ever seen. A meadow full of long, soft grass surrounded by colourful flowers. Their perfumes mixed and created the most beautiful scent. Finally, I was at peace. The only problem was, I didn’t know where I was. They say when you die, you’re supposed to see a light; a light that takes you beyond. I didn’t see anything
I felt my anxiety rise as I ran through the meadow. I realized that I was wearing a long white dress the hem of which rested at my ankles. The bottom was stained red, and the more I ran the more the stain grew. I smelled the blood and soon I felt it reach my face. It covered my eyes as I ran blindly until I fell. All around me beautiful white roses were stained red and dripping.
For the second time that day, I awoke. This time I was in a dark, cool room. The walls, and the floor looked like concrete. I was positive that if the whole room was flipped upside down, it would look exactly the same. The room had a dank, musty odour that burned my nose. This whole experience was becoming too much for me and it started to feel as if the walls were closing in. I felt my breathing quicken and my palms slowly pooled with sweat. My whole body shook and I couldn’t move. I heard a noise behind me and forced my body to turn around. I found that I was not alone. I took a deep breath and tried to calm myself, but I could feel the hysteria starting in my chest.
A man stood there staring at me. He had a tall, lean figure, floppy chestnut hair, and piercing green eyes that seemed to stare through me. A concerned expression was on his face.
“Breanne? Calm down. You’ll be fine.”
Him calling me by my full name strikes a nerve. Nobody calls me that name except for my mother. Everyone else calls me Bree. He slowly approached with his hands level at his chest, palms pointed out. As if I was an animal who was about to attack at any second.
I closed my eyes and took deep breaths until I felt my heartbeat slow. My body slowly stopped shaking and my ears stopped ringing. I needed to figure out what was happening and the only way to do that was to talk to this man.
