Page 5 of How to Survive Your Own Death

He needed her.

Bazel rested his hand on her heart and grabbed her soul. It was soft and pliable, curling around his hand. It was… nice. Comforting. Familiar. Words failed to describe the sensation of touching a stranger’s soul.

Bazel leaned down, his mouth to hers, and breathed out.

They were bound now.

His life was hers. Her life was his.

GERI

No. Not yet.

A voice called her back. Was it a voice? Yes, one she recognized. The haunted Victorian doll man.

Doll man?

“You came back. I knew you were close,” she said. Well, that’s what she thought she said. The connection between her mind and her body was currently out of service.

She didn’t mind. It was peaceful. All the sounds and touches and smells of the world that overwhelmed her senses were gone.

Dying wasn’t so bad. It was just her and her thoughts.

And the doll man, apparently. Why her dying brain conjured up him to comfort her in her last moment, she had no idea.

Death is temporary.

Geri’s consciousness rushed back into her body. The noise of life—heartbeat, breath, blood pumping in her veins—was deafening. Every touch against her skin was too much. The air was too cold as it rattled out of the vents. The sheets were scratchy. The hum of the overhead lights was too loud. Machines constantly beeped. Voices came in from the halls. Shoes squeaked against the floor.

It was unbearable.

“Make it stop,” she said, her throat dry and rasping.

“She’s in pain. Can we do something about that?” a familiar voice asked.

Molly, her sister. Finally, a competent adult to take charge because Geri could not make good decisions on her own.

“Hey, I didn’t die after all.” At least that was what she meant to say. Geri had no control on what sounds came out of her mouth.

It didn’t matter. The darkness snatched her again.

“Your idea of humor is abuse.” Molly’s voice drew Geri back into consciousness, which was generally a mistake.

She was in a bed not her own with uncomfortably stiff sheets. Every part of her hurt but also felt detached, like a layer of the good stuff kept it tolerable. IV tubing attached to her arm. Machines beeped. The lights were painful.

Hospital. Had to be. No other place could be so unpleasant.

“Take it down or we will sue,” Molly said. A pause. “Because I’m her lawyer. Yes, lawyers can represent family. Listen. No, listen to me. Prank videos are not protected speech. Take it down now or I will take every crumb you own. Your house, your car, your sneakers and every bottle of that obnoxious spray tan.”

Molly slammed her phone down and slumped into the chair next to the bed.

Geri blinked, trying to focus her eyes. Molly glowed. No, not metaphorically from a radiant personality—though Molly glowed like that too. Literally. Gold sparked along her skin, congregating at her hands and over her chest. It was a beautiful aura and 100% a hallucination.

That’s new. Had to be a side effect of hitting her head.

“You’ll break your phone,” Geri said. Her throat hurt. Her head hurt. Everything ached like she was one massive bruise and she was hallucinating auras.

Molly’s entire body perked up. “You’re awake. You have terrible taste in men, by the way.”