The zapping of a loose bullet ended my world.
And after that, I was welcomed by a warm void of light. It was as nurturing as my mother's embrace. It called to me. It welcomed me. It pulled me to it like my belly was tied with a rope pulled by the hands of God. Suddenly, I was dragged there, to the afterlife. Or so I thought.
But why is there, in that empty void of white, in this blank page in the author's notes, a round purple ball?
I don't see my hands. I don't feel my body. I don't feel anything at all. But I can see it. I can feel it. This purple ball is twirling before my eyes. It's almost like a child's toy. I can nearly reach it and play with it. Maybe it's a gift from God so I wouldn't be bored in heaven.
But still, if this is heaven, it is really fucking strange.
I am not a member of any faith, although I have a sympathetic interest in Buddhism. But this...The more I stare at that ball, the more unnerving it becomes. It's a purple ball. You don't expect to see something like that when you get shot. I tried to look around this empty, desolate world, but there is nothing but white and more white. I don't even see myself. Maybe I am just a shape. A world. A thought.
Can I even touch that ball if I want to?
I had no idea. As I continued to think, I grew increasingly terrified. If this was...well...it, that means I am dead. Something killed me, probably a bullet, and my real body is there on that square. My brother is perhaps dragging it somewhere, trying to give me first aid. Patricia is dead too. My whole life ended...just like that.
"What the fuck is that ball? And what the fuck is this?"
I suddenly recognized that familiar voice. And when I try to search for it, I finally see it. I can make out that rough shape. It's like a ghost of sorts, a rough outline of a painter's sketch, but I can make it out. It's most definitely Sam.
"Sam...Is that you?" I answer almost instinctively, even though I am sure I don't even have a mouth. I tried to touch that space in my face, but what I believe to be my hand just passed through it.
"Yeah. Although I have no idea who you are. Are you God?" his shape suddenly starts moving around the white space as if he were at a court, stretching his body. It crosses my mind in that moment that my brother is indeed just a simpleton. Straight to the point, no nonsense. As if God would ask him if he is Sam.
"No, I am your sister. Dumbass. Mirka," I reply snarkily. "Although I am not sure where we are," I said, looking around and moving closer to that purple ball. It is the only thing around us that is worth any notice.
"Oh, so the devil then. That makes sense..." His reply was enough to make my blood boil even in the afterlife.
"Oh, you can't be serious..." I said in a passive-aggressive tone. "We are dead. DEAD! DEAD!" I screamed aggressively. "My friend fucking DIED and you joke around like this? She was fucking STOMPED! Are you mental?" I snapped at him. "What were you even doing there, huh? Supporting your fascist buddies?" If I had hands, I would have probably gnawed his eyes out by now. But as it is, it would probably pass straight through him.
At first, he was quiet. Perhaps contemplating what to say next. I thought I lost him in that moment - his shape became less apparent. He was hardly visible to me in the first place. I didn't know the laws of this world. Our presence may be temporary. And we will be blown away like the dust in the wind.
"Look. I am sorry your friend died like that. I am sorry you died like that. But screaming at me won't help anything right now."
That reply took me completely off guard. "Your face exploded before my very eyes, okay. Exploded. So please..." he continued. "Let's not do this...I mean, I don't even know how I died..."
My face exploded? That idea terrified me, even in this form. I couldn't believe it. So it was a bullet. I suspected as much. Maybe it was the last thought my body registered. Last signal I picked up before my unfortunate demise. Something like that...It must have been horrifying for him.
And now...we are dead. Two ghosts with a purple ball. It's like the start of some terrible joke.
"Okay...I am sorry," I replied to him in a calmer, soothing manner. "I know you probably tried to help..." I would shrug if my current form allowed it.
And then...There was silence again for quite some time. I contemplated our life, and actually wanted to reach out to him. I think he was crying. Not literally, but his very soul...I was sad. Much sadder than mine. I felt that in the depths of my very being. It was so strange. He seemed so emotional, like a burning hurricane. But when I looked into my very soul, there was no such storm. I was screaming and yelling, yes. I always did that. I learned that when I was very young. Why did I do it? Because it works. It helps me.
But inside? Inside, I don't know what I feel. Not turmoil. Not sadness. No. Not that.
I know what it is. It's anger. Anger at the state of the world. Anger at the people who killed me. And Patricia. And everyone else. Anger at my brother. At my father. At my mother. At our grandparents. Anger at every decision everyone of them made that led to the moment when my head exploded. This situation just wasn't fair. Hell, I even felt anger for Sam. For what he went through. There was so much of it.
I hate this.
Those three words communicated my feeling flawlessly.
I hate this.
Maybe I should scream them out. Hardly matters now. After all, I am dead. I don't think anything I do anymore has consequences.
I hate this.
This pent-up feeling. Not even screaming will help it. No, it needs more energy to it. I need something. Anything. Anything at all.
That ball. Maybe it's a sign from God. It may be something meant to help you let go of your anger towards the old world. All of your mistakes. All of your regrets. Still...why is it purple?
"I hate this!" My soul screamed as I attempted to kick the ball. And when I got closer to it, it opened up with the same burning light that brought us here. I saw what was inside - if only for a moment. It was a sword. A giant sword inside a small purple ball. It was radiating. And it was broken and shattered into thousands of small pieces. From those pieces came chains. And those chains were unleashed straight at me. I tried to instinctively cover my face - a remnant of my old body's reflexes - but the chains went through my hands and to my cervical spine. They embedded inside, into my very core, and began dragging my soul inside like a master would to a disobedient prisoner.
"Sam, help me!" I shouted, but no words came out, only the sounds of metal screeching. The chains dragged me inside the sword as they ripped apart my very soul. It was a punishment. That much I knew. Punishment that pulled me across the stars and skies, into my very new life.
And I never saw Sam again. Or so I thought.
The light I saw next wasn't as nurturing. It was a candle. Its light was too bright for my eyes. The air was cold and unwelcoming. My body was covered in blood, and there was a pulsating tube of flesh coming out of my navel. I felt it in both my body and my soul. I felt the pain of scissors cutting it away. I couldn't focus on anything else. Anything. My eyes could hardly make out any shapes around me.
I was reborn.
And only then did I once again hear my screams.
But despite that, I immediately knew. My body was lifeless. I had hands, legs, everything...But my body was lying in the midwife's hand as if it were dead. I immediately made the connection. It must have been because of the chain.
And that thought terrified me even more than anything else.