I Should Have Deleted That Wattpad Account

So I Kinda Died

I take slow steps on the sidewalk, not exactly very thrilled to arrive towards my destination.

Not only that, but also because I am trying to look around and remember the way I could take back towards my house. Well, not exactly my house. I more so woke up there this morning, before almost passing out again after realising the shit that happened the last 24hours was real.

Offically, Charlie Blossom (me) goes to her usual school in the disctrict. She moved here a few months ago and is one of the only humans in the local Highschool which is open to human and werwolf teenagers. She lost her father a few years ago to a mysterious fire and her mother is often gone on buisness trips.

Atleast that's the part of the backstory I could gather while looking at the pictures and notes hanging around the house I woke up in.

Quite honestly could be more creative, but atleast they didn't shove the "protective-older brother" trope down my throat alongside all the shit that's gonna happen. I mean- my last name isn't even Blossom-

To revise the situation- I died. As simple as that. Some fucker turned a corner and hit me with his car- a red lamborgini. My little brother problaly would've admired said car if it weren't for his sister bleeding out on the ground.

God that probably gave him trauma. I maybe shouldn't joke about it.

So yeah, going to school with my brother, walking across the street, red car goes woosh and boom I am dead. Not much to work with here. Now you may be ask yourself, 'But Charlie if you're dead how are you alive??'

I did die. BUT I SURVIVED! Basically, the life after death greeted me with a room that looked like one of those places you wait in for your doctors appointment, but considering the way everyone stared at me I quickly realised I probably was not supposed to be there. Doing what every seventeen year old does, I avoided the social situation and sat down in one of the seats.

And sat there I did, they left me alone for two hours at LEAST. That gave me enough time to get over the shock of death and to think about the implications of life, be worried about my family, mourn what could have been- I basically speed ran the five stages of grief.

Suddenly time was up and I got called into a room, where I was told that apparently I fucked up. I don't know how- but I did. They didn't tell me how I did it. They jus' said I did. And they need time to fix it. And until then I will be "stored safely" (whatever the fuck that means) and must wait.

Of course I asked for how long, but honestly their answer of "not too long" is probably something I should not trust. Considering these are all interdimensional beings whose concept of time might be quite different from mine.

So under "stored safely" they apparently mean "dropped into another world until the problem is solved" and because of my nice compliance during the entire ordeal (aka I was fucking terrified to move or say anything that might piss them off) they searched for a world I might me familiar with.

That taught me interdimensional beings have no understanding of human growth. Let me quote:

"The problem that came up truly is something that might take time to solve, Ms Charlie. Thus we will be storing you and your soul in a sandbox created by one of our human experts and create a world you will be familiar with. For the most accurate experience, we have looked through an old internet account of yours from a site titled "watt-pad" and recreated the setting from some of the books you've enjoyed!"

When I tell you, I CHOKED-

The last time I used my wattpad account was three years ago when I was Fourteen. Since then I have upped my standards, because fourteen year old mes taste in wattpad men and books was not it. Not that they were bad per se, but riddled with things I never want to happen to me in real life.