Ascending Heaven

That funny feeling

There is no way for oxygen to enter your shaking body as you unintentionally hold in your breath, like getting strangled again by invisible hands.

Strangers gather around you, to observe, while whispering to one another, yet all the sounds are mingling, quickly building up to one, horrible screeching between your ears. Holding your head, trying desperately to cover your ears, you send yourself mental messages to inhale deeply, yet no amount of air seems to satisfy your need. You're slipping, hanging on the edge, seconds away from diving into that familiar, but eerie madness of your own feral thoughts. There's a beat in your chest, your heart miraculously still beating.

And you were so sure you had died in the hands of a serial killer.

"Hey, hey." Someone hushes right next to your ear, startling you as you hadn't noticed anyone creeping up so close.

"You're fine." She soothes, taking a brief moment before carefully lowering a hand to rest on your shoulder. Even though there are others you only notice her, and those gentle, dark, deep eyes that seem to bring you back from the brink of a mental breakdown.

"I'm Claudette and these people are my friends." Claudette gestures around her, and for the first time, you take a better look at the others, some of whom are offering you empathic smiles mixed with melancholy. The energy in the air is thick and there's a lump in your throat, it's hard to talk, even breathe. 

"We're not going to hurt you, I promise." Her voice, smooth as silk and sweet like honey and with all your being you want to believe her, exhausted and too shaken up, desperate for a lifeline, you give a little, trusting nod.

You hear people talking, still, but you are unable to make anything out of it. Too distressed to care, really. So instead, you stay put for a while, just like that, sitting on the grass and little rocks, trying to make sense of it all. Claudette stays there with you, as long as you need, as most of the others return to their previous posts or decide to stay by the fire a bit further away.

"I sat where you are, once." Claudette assures, holding a dried flower between her gentle fingers, but no matter how delicate she tries to be, it still crumbles, just a little. "We all did." This sentence catches your attention quickly.

"Is this hell?" You ask, completely genuine. Some other might've laughed at the question, but not Claudette who gives you a sad, faint smile. And it's not like you one hundred percent believe in hell either, but you cannot help but to ask anyway. Plus, it's not like you had a lot of time to think about the afterlife before, not to depth at least. And to be honest, death had always seemed unreal to you, something that wouldn't affect you.

"No, but also yes, it is."

Your first night at the camp is spent crying. Time doesn't seem to change as it's always dark everywhere, only the ever-burning fire generating some much-needed light. The moonlight assists also, but like the others had said with a firm tone, it's the safest around the fire. The forest doesn't seem inviting or friendly, so they don't need to worry about that: you wouldn't go there anyway.

You cannot sleep and bringing it up, the others give you slightly different answers depending on who'd you ask. Most you trust Claudette's word: the sleep here would be different, just constantly drifting in and out of it. You feel like she's leaving much unsaid. Today, you decide, you do not want to know: half a truth would do.

You feel cold. Claudette says you'd get used to it too.

You're wearing, somehow, some loose beige pants, a blue top of a pretty baby blue shade, pair of white sneakers with lime green socks and a white half-length cardigan. You don't have the mental energy to start questioning where you got to have such pieces of clothing in your possession. You don't recall putting them on, but the outfit is similar to something you have in your wardrobe back home. Which is odd, but it's the least of your problems (at least it's not the tiny black dress you wore to the Halloween party).

The flashback gives you goosebumps and makes your stomach twist and turn. Without thinking you press against the spot that Ghostface had stabbed you in, and cringe as you feel like crying, again. You wish to go home. You want to call your mom, cry, and beg for her to pick you up, drive you back home, take the long route, just like as a kid when you'd fall asleep on the backseat after the movies, nose and forehead pressed against the chilly window and have your father carry you inside, in the morning magically waking up in your own bed to the smell of freshly baked waffles.

It's that funny feeling again, in the back of your neck, whispering bitterly how there is no returning home.

Kate hums and plays her guitar with talented hands; it reminds you of a love song. Forcing yourself to focus onto its sweet tune, you stop shaking for some time. While the song plays, David and Meg continue explaining the rules of the twisted realm you had, sadly, ended up in. It seems like you don't have any say in the matter.

You're thankful for the others and their generous hospitality. From the start they had started treating you as a friend, or like Claudette had described it: a family member. It made things less painful, but not exactly easy. All still feels like a bad dream to you, causing you to pinch yourself every now and then, it never ending in waking up.

As hours pass by and you crawl back to your spot behind one of the trees, curling up to sleep, Claudette moves to sit by you, reading a book of some sort. "I'll be here, if that's okay." You give the first, genuine smile after arriving, and nod.

"Yes."

You do notice people disappearing and coming back after some time. You picked up the pattern kind of quickly – always in groups of four. Sometimes they return together, sometimes at different times with different things to say. Nea always bragging about winning. Meg always seemed to be disappointed with herself. David usually returns with a blank expression, but the anger underneath visible. Dwight compliments everyone, tells how they did their best. Jake stays calm, encourages the others to do the same while coming up with new tactics. "We'll get them next time." Feng would usually say – she tried to put on a role of a happy, lighthearted girl, but everyone knew better than that. Even you, now.

It's probably been good few days since your arrival, and nothing had yet to happen. You'd like to think that you're well prepared, that your friends taught you well. Still, you're scared and try your best to conceal it: Claudette sees right through it and that's alright, it comforts you.

So, when it does happen, you panic.

You're not ready. It's too soon.

Crawling away from the fog that is licking your feet and quickly forcing its way into your lungs. You can't breathe, can't get away, and you almost pass out, yet you must give in, swallow your pride, and obey.

There it is, again. That funny feeling.