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“Can’t blame a girl for trying.” So much for plan B. I roll my eyes and wipe my face. “Why am I being assigned to Hell?” I ask. If I’m going down—literally—I deserve to know why.

“We assign people to Heaven or Hell based on good karma and bad karma. Everything you do goes towards this. This also includes intent. If you have bad intentions, then it's still technically bad karma, regardless of the outcome of your actions. Good karma can be anything from helping a neighbor in need to giving to charity. Bad karma includes any actions that will hurt people like stealing, lying, or assault. When you die, the Soul Directory department tallies up all your karma from birth and makes a decision. You used to be set for Heaven, but then your bad karma started to outweigh your good karma. May have been all those criminals you represented.”

I aggressively stand up, making my chair screech back a couple of inches.

“This is absolutely…this is fucking…ridiculous!”

I guess the saying 'all lawyers go to Hell’ is immensely accurate. But, I was just doing my job. Even though I knew they were guilty, I am literally not allowed to say a peep due to attorney-client privilege. Why am I being punished for a standard I did not create?

“Now, are you finally going to ask why I need you to be my lawyer?”

I slowly sit back down in my chair. I could care less why he needs me to be his lawyer because I don’t want to be his lawyer. How is it fair that I died and I still have to work? That doesn’t even make any sense. What makes even less sense, is why me? I am sure lawyers die all the time. I mean, there must be some other lawyer who died right at this very moment.

“No, because I don’t want to. I just died because of my job. That’s enough trauma for a lifetime, and for the afterlife. Also, my boss was forcing me to take on cases I did not want to. So, I could care less why a Grim Reaper needs a lawyer. Because I. Am. Done.”

“You understand if you do not accept the role as my lawyer, you’re going to Hell.”

“Yes.”

“So, are you going to be my lawyer?” he asks again.

I smile as I cross my legs. I place my finger on my chin, tapping it as if I’m contemplating the idea. After three seconds, I drop my smile and respond to him.

“No.”

I sit back comfortably in my chair, in an unladylike way. I close my eyes. Hell can’t be that bad, right? A little fire ain’t never hurt nobody.

I hear a bang on the desk, and my eyes pop open, startled by the sound. I look at him, seeing his fist on the table, and him glaring daggers at me. I wonder if he was a model in his former life. He’s got the serious model face thing going for him.

He points at me. “Let me repeat myself because I don’t think you understand the gravity of your situation. You’re either going to be my lawyer, or you’re going to Hell forever. What do you choose?”

Understand the gravity of my situation. Who does he think he is? Sounds like something you get told when you are arrested. I do feel like I’m being sent to jail though, without even a trial to argue my case. Who makes the rules around here?

I understand that he needs a lawyer, but why is he so upset? He probably doesn’t have to wait long for another lawyer to die in time to represent him. It really doesn’t have to be me, and I prefer it not be.

I reply with zero hesitation, “The latter.”

He looks taken aback for a moment and says, “I think you meant the former?”

“I know English pretty well, Mr. Reaper. I meant what I said. The latter.”

“All those degrees, and you’re still making stupid decisions.” He shakes his head. “What could possibly be a justifiable reason for choosing eternal damnation?”

I don’t know what he did for him to need a lawyer, but it must be something big. Because why the hell else would a Grim Reaper need legal representation? I would rather not put myself in whatever mess he is in. Plus, like I said, I just died from being a lawyer. Then, I find out that I’m going to Hell for being a lawyer. My body in the living world is probably still warm. Between that and my trauma from years ago, I am done. Therefore, I choose Hell.

Stupid? Probably.

But it’s my choice.

Finally.

To make things interesting, I perk up in my chair as if I’m excited to explain to him why I am refusing. “Where shall I begin, hm? I’ve got three reasons.”

I raise one finger in the air. “First, with every fiber of my being I hate being a lawyer.”

I raise another finger. “Two, I just died because a client was angry when he was found guilty of a crime that he actually committed. Why he thought killing me would change anything, that’s beyond me. Maybe you can tell me later.”

I settle back into my chair once I make my points. I don’t think it’s so hard to understand why I said no. Yeah, I can’t die again, but who knows what can happen.