but if that was the case, I’d be dead. And if I was dead, I wouldn’t be here, right?
Nigel looked at me with sorrow in his gaze, his black hair appearing with a blue tint in the sunlight, its lengths combed back, giving him an out-of-time appearance, coupled with his clothes. He said nothing else, simply staring at me, as if he waited for me to say something.
Oh, I had a lot to say. A lot to say, but at the same time, I was afraid the words would not form in my mouth.
“What is this place?” The question left me in a single breath, the heaviness of it almost too much for me to bear. It would appear I could not leave this place, but why? Why did I feel stuck here, rooted here, as if I was now chained to this circus? “Why can’t I leave? What…” I glanced down at myself, at the dress clinging to my body. “What happened to me?”
I didn’t know which question was the most important. I supposed, in a way, they all were.
Nigel waited until I was finished assailing him with questions, a gentle breeze blowing past us. He did not look happy to tell me what he was about to tell me, nor did he look smug. He just looked so… so sad, as if it pained him to tell me this. “Some call this place hell, but I believe it is only what you make it.”
Hell? I didn’t—did that mean I was dead? Only dead people went to hell… dead people who did really, really bad things, and I wasn’t one of those people. I wasn’t a criminal or a killer or anything like that. I was just a girl in her senior year of high school, eighteen years old with the world in front of her. I was going to leave this town soon and never look back.
“As for your final two questions, though I suspect there will be more, the answer is related,” Nigel spoke, pausing as he stepped toward me, tilting his head as he studied me, raking his gaze down my chest, along the dress, stopping at my bare feet. “You cannot leave because of what happened to you.”
An invisible weight settled on my chest. “And why’s that?”
“Because,” he said, staring at me strangely, as if I should know the answer to this already, “you are dead. Beyond that arch is the world of the living, and you are no more a part of their world. You are a part of mine now, dear Thana.”
His words hit me like a wall, like a ton of bricks thrown at me all at once. I stumbled back, my legs feeling wobbly, unable to keep me upright. I couldn’t breathe, my lungs struggling for air as it sunk in.
That wasn’t a dream? I was dead? How… if I was dead, how was I still here?
Nigel moved closer, standing less than a foot away from me now, almost too close, but I could not move, every part of me at his mercy. He lifted a hand, his bare skin touching my face. Where he’d been cold before, he now felt normal.
Or was that only because I was now just as cold as he was?
“This world,” he spoke, his fingers still caressing my cheek, as if I was a long-lost lover, finally back in his reach, “is full of the unexplained, of magic. Most are blind to it, but now your eyes have been opened. You will see everything here, as you stand by my side. You will see the world pass you by, never aging a day. Dear Thana, you may be dead, but your story is far from over.”
“I’m only dead,” I finally found my voice again, pulling away from him and his gentle hand—misleading in every way. “Because you killed me!” My mind was racing, none of this making sense, but faced with everything I’d seen, how could I say none of it was true?
And, besides that, deep down, I could feel it: an aching coldness, a hollowness, a barren place where I should feel warm and alive.
I was dead. This place, these crazy people, they’d killed me, and now I’d have to spend the rest of my days with them. This truly was hell, wasn’t it?
Nigel frowned at me. “I did not kill you. Trey did.” His black eyes narrowed at me, no longer as kind or as gentle as he’d been mere moments ago, and he