Descending Angel
chapter 1
I think I'm dying. Honestly. It's like a black fog is rolling in across my vision, paired with a gut wrenching nausea I could only associate with the times in my childhood when I would get a particularly horrible case of kidney infection.
Beside me lies the cause of my demise. An empty xanax bottle. I was a bit relieved that this was how I will be dying. Suicide by pills always seemed so glamorous to me. Maybe not as glamorous as a gunshot to the brain, but I didn't keep guns in my house. Plus the tiny fact that I couldn't move. But that was just a technicality.
I craned my neck to look down at my hand. It had the pins and needles feeling that an extremity gets after falling asleep. The one where you don't think you'll ever be able to move it without wanting to yelp in pain. I tried to move one of my fingers, and got a weak twitch in return.
Ha, I feel like that chick in Kill Bill Vol. 1.
That absurd thought was my last one as I slipped into unconsciousness. I would have rather left the world with a cool last few words, something utterly profound that no one would ever get to hear, but no. I disappointed myself yet again.
My eyes were closed but I could tell there was a bright light shining above me. I looked up and muttered a profanity. My eyes felt like they were being burned out of my skull. The light was diminished and a doctor loomed over me. My first thought, of course, was that I failed at killing myself, which is the dumbest thing I've ever heard of. But if there was ever a screw up who could manage that, it would definately be me.
"Am I alive?" I asked without enthusiasm. I tried to sit up but the doctor pushed me back.
"No, darling, you're dead." he said in a tone which suggested he was being sarcastic, but I believed him. I certainly didn't feel alive anymore. Everything was a little softer in my mind. The surroundings I was in were harsh, but I felt fuzzy.
"Where am I?" I asked. I already knew what the doctor would answer with. Where else would I go? Taco Bell? I don't think so.
"Hell."
"Why? Well, I know why, but why is it a hospital? Those are for the living." I told him. He rolled his eyes behind the thick glasses he was wearing and finally allowed me to sit up.
"I wouldn't know why this is your hell. Most humans I deal with have the traditional fire and brimstone hell. But hospitals are hells in their own right, I suppose. All those zombies walking around."
"Well, this isn't so bad for hell." I said, looking around. It was a normal hospital room. I was surprised to see a TV up in the corner. A nurse clad in light blue scrubs stood silently at the door. At least she wasn't wearing tacky 'sexy nurse' uniform. The white ones that came down to just about an inch away from naughty places.
"You've only seen this room. It gets much worse." he promised. Oh, he sounded so gleeful telling me this bit of information.
I shuddered at the thought. I was imagining rooms where people were being tortured with needles and scalpels. Bleh. My over active imagination was making me see women getting their skin peeled off, and a japanese guy with needles sticking out of his eyeballs.
"So whats going to happen with me?" I asked, fearful of the answer.
"We're sending you back."
"What!? Back to earth? Why?" I demanded. This doctor obviously didn't get that when a person commits suicide, they want to die.
"You weren't supposed to die yet. Your death was a mistake."
"But I want to die. How the fuck was it a mistake?"
"It just was. A paramedic was supposed to find you and revive you, but he got caught up in traffic. So you died. There is a way that we can keep you dead if you help us." he said blandly. I knew I was just another pain to him, he was making that blatantly obvious.
"Okay, what would I have to do?" I asked.
"Go back and stop someone else from dying so you can take their place. We have a young man scheduled to kill himself in two weeks. Stop him from doing it, and you get to die." he said. I agreed to it, and he handed me a clipboard with a whole description on who I was saving, with a picture clipped to the bottom.
Name: Gerard Way
Age: 19
Eye Colour: Hazel
Hair Colour: Black
Height: 5"9
Place Of Residence: Newark, New Jersey
Along with a picture of an angel. A goth angel, mind you. The description did not do him justice. It didn't mention the dazzling and flawless porcelain skin, or how his eyes shone green in the light. But how am I supposed to keep him from killing himself? I couldn't keep myself from doing just the same thing. I wanted to demand more answers from the doctor-or devil, or whatever the hell he was- but he just walked out of the room. The clicking noise on the outside told me that I was locked in here.
"Now what happens?" I asked, directing my question to the only other person in the room. The nurse, who, oddly enough, had sprouted black wings that resembled those from a small dragon. She slowly strutted over to me, and I seriously thought that she was going to eat me. She had a ravenous look about her, and I was the only living...un-living but still active thing around.
Beside me lies the cause of my demise. An empty xanax bottle. I was a bit relieved that this was how I will be dying. Suicide by pills always seemed so glamorous to me. Maybe not as glamorous as a gunshot to the brain, but I didn't keep guns in my house. Plus the tiny fact that I couldn't move. But that was just a technicality.
I craned my neck to look down at my hand. It had the pins and needles feeling that an extremity gets after falling asleep. The one where you don't think you'll ever be able to move it without wanting to yelp in pain. I tried to move one of my fingers, and got a weak twitch in return.
Ha, I feel like that chick in Kill Bill Vol. 1.
That absurd thought was my last one as I slipped into unconsciousness. I would have rather left the world with a cool last few words, something utterly profound that no one would ever get to hear, but no. I disappointed myself yet again.
My eyes were closed but I could tell there was a bright light shining above me. I looked up and muttered a profanity. My eyes felt like they were being burned out of my skull. The light was diminished and a doctor loomed over me. My first thought, of course, was that I failed at killing myself, which is the dumbest thing I've ever heard of. But if there was ever a screw up who could manage that, it would definately be me.
"Am I alive?" I asked without enthusiasm. I tried to sit up but the doctor pushed me back.
"No, darling, you're dead." he said in a tone which suggested he was being sarcastic, but I believed him. I certainly didn't feel alive anymore. Everything was a little softer in my mind. The surroundings I was in were harsh, but I felt fuzzy.
"Where am I?" I asked. I already knew what the doctor would answer with. Where else would I go? Taco Bell? I don't think so.
"Hell."
"Why? Well, I know why, but why is it a hospital? Those are for the living." I told him. He rolled his eyes behind the thick glasses he was wearing and finally allowed me to sit up.
"I wouldn't know why this is your hell. Most humans I deal with have the traditional fire and brimstone hell. But hospitals are hells in their own right, I suppose. All those zombies walking around."
"Well, this isn't so bad for hell." I said, looking around. It was a normal hospital room. I was surprised to see a TV up in the corner. A nurse clad in light blue scrubs stood silently at the door. At least she wasn't wearing tacky 'sexy nurse' uniform. The white ones that came down to just about an inch away from naughty places.
"You've only seen this room. It gets much worse." he promised. Oh, he sounded so gleeful telling me this bit of information.
I shuddered at the thought. I was imagining rooms where people were being tortured with needles and scalpels. Bleh. My over active imagination was making me see women getting their skin peeled off, and a japanese guy with needles sticking out of his eyeballs.
"So whats going to happen with me?" I asked, fearful of the answer.
"We're sending you back."
"What!? Back to earth? Why?" I demanded. This doctor obviously didn't get that when a person commits suicide, they want to die.
"You weren't supposed to die yet. Your death was a mistake."
"But I want to die. How the fuck was it a mistake?"
"It just was. A paramedic was supposed to find you and revive you, but he got caught up in traffic. So you died. There is a way that we can keep you dead if you help us." he said blandly. I knew I was just another pain to him, he was making that blatantly obvious.
"Okay, what would I have to do?" I asked.
"Go back and stop someone else from dying so you can take their place. We have a young man scheduled to kill himself in two weeks. Stop him from doing it, and you get to die." he said. I agreed to it, and he handed me a clipboard with a whole description on who I was saving, with a picture clipped to the bottom.
Name: Gerard Way
Age: 19
Eye Colour: Hazel
Hair Colour: Black
Height: 5"9
Place Of Residence: Newark, New Jersey
Along with a picture of an angel. A goth angel, mind you. The description did not do him justice. It didn't mention the dazzling and flawless porcelain skin, or how his eyes shone green in the light. But how am I supposed to keep him from killing himself? I couldn't keep myself from doing just the same thing. I wanted to demand more answers from the doctor-or devil, or whatever the hell he was- but he just walked out of the room. The clicking noise on the outside told me that I was locked in here.
"Now what happens?" I asked, directing my question to the only other person in the room. The nurse, who, oddly enough, had sprouted black wings that resembled those from a small dragon. She slowly strutted over to me, and I seriously thought that she was going to eat me. She had a ravenous look about her, and I was the only living...un-living but still active thing around.
♠ ♠ ♠
So, what do you think? A little bit out there to me. And not very descriptive, but the next one will be better, I promise.