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Now, God, let’s settle up. And you’d better explain yourself. I don’t want any excuses. Here’s a chance to redeem yourself. What do you have for me up there when my hell is down here? Will I have to appear before your court to answer for my sins? You don’t believe in suicide? You reject anyone who does it? You rejected me while I was alive. This is your fault.
Visions sprang up in Jeremy’s mind, the last embers of a dying fire. His parents watched him go. His mother waving to him tearfully. His father watching him coldly. Then a little girl appeared and slid into place between them. His sister. Back where she belonged. He moaned. His enemy—pain—was strong! He needed to act quickly, to pacify the old hurt or win it over to his side. Wasn’t this what the pain wanted?
He placed the pills on his tongue and drank a mouthful of whiskey.
A cold shiver ran through him. Cold and strong enough to snuff out twenty years of life. He thought he heard a voice. Was it Victoria?
And what that voice whispered, so far away, fixed a smile on his face.
“Happy birthday, Jeremy!”
TWO
Light woke him. A delicious warmth enveloped him. He felt good.
Before dying, his last thought had been of the afterlife and his hope of finding something better, finding peace.
And now a soft glow licked his eyelids. I’m dead. I crossed over. I’m going farther, and I’ll arrive on the other side to discover the full light, the truth. And maybe understand the meaning of my life.
He waited a moment, anticipating the movement that would carry him toward total clarity. But it never came. Instead, what felt like a gentle touch grazed his stomach, and the sensation surpr
ised him. Then he felt the weight of his body and thought he heard his own heartbeat.
A single thought threw him into a panic: he wasn’t dead yet!
Jeremy tried to open his eyes, and a light blinded him. Blurry vision, then a moving form.
He shuddered.
The contours, shadows, and colors came into focus slowly: chestnut hair, a woman’s face. It’s not possible! I’m dreaming! Death made me delirious. This face…It’s unbelievable.
With her chin poised on two slender hands that she clasped over his stomach, Victoria smiled up at him.
Jeremy froze, hypnotized by this unlikely apparition.
“There you are. Awake, finally?” She spoke to him softly.
Victoria’s face. Victoria’s touch. And now her voice.
“Come on, lazy bones. Get up!” Victoria’s fingers played across his chest.
She’s here, beside me. She’s looking at me, talking to me…
“Are you really awake, or should I go?”
He tried to move; to his surprise, he managed to move a hand toward Victoria’s, touching it.
Is this a dream? An illusion? A work of fiction? Who made it? God? The devil?
Jeremy felt divided between fear and euphoria. He wanted to scream, laugh, and cry.
He decided to simply give in to this death hallucination.
The girl slid next to him. Her skin felt like silk, rippling slowly across his body. Even softer than in his dreams. When Victoria’s face was a few inches from his, he squinted to take in every detail: her deep green eyes, her long lashes, and her mouth coming closer to his.
How many times had he dreamed of holding her?
She kissed him tenderly, and he gave in to his overpowering desire. Who cares if this is real or not? It’s real to me…
