The Art Of Dying

I. Prologue

"Perfect is a word derived to fuck with the society."

Everett neatly folded the paper and pushed it under a book, that was sprawled on the bedside table. The clock was ticking, there was no time left; to think or to ponder over.

He already had an overdose of drugs but he knew his parents would be back home soon. His skin was numb and he was senseless, appropriate time to end his life.

So, there was it. The blurred pictures of his childhood on the walls. A crashed door of the room stared at him in an intimidating way. He still remembered the day when his step father kicked it open.

Everett was fifteen back then. A frightened young boy was balled in a corner, shivering. Beads of sweat rained down his forehead as he dreaded the inevetible. He had memorized the routine all too well now. Like the bruises on his abdomen or the scars on his wrist.
First comes the snickering, the most disturbing kind. Followed by the sarcastic play of hide and seek; whereby Everett used to hope that his father would not be able to find him, hopefully. But then everything else used to happen in a flash. Even if the pain and bruises used to last a lifetime.

Pulling, pushing, thrashing, slapping, moulding, coiling, kicking. And then the final part, dumping.

Though if one would suggest Everett for the final part, which may be leaving then Everett would kid them not. The demons never left him. They always followed him around wherever he went, so there was never an option of running away. Who would he run from? The past who haunts him like his shadow? Or his childhood, that sticks onto him like his own skin?

Everett dropped to the ground, his breath faltering. This pain was like no other, it was the worst. But if one could see, it actually came with a package. Peace forever. And he was willing to bear it all, inflict it upon himself, absorb the agony and die in it happily. There were no second options, he knew he had done the right thing.

However, instead of darkness, he saw a series of incomplete flashes knitted in a different world. This wasn't his life; cruel, useless, savage, homicidle. Here, he just saw a girl with blue eyes. She was happy, then crying, talking to Everett. But he did not even know her?

"Find me," a female voice whispered in his ear. All energy left him when he wanted to turn his head at the source of the voice. "I need you, so don't die yet."

Too late. Everett uttered, or he thought he did. He was dying, how on Earth could he possibly help this human being? All his life, he did not even help himself then why did she expect him to help her instead?

Go away. Everett's throat was clogged up when he wanted to shout the words. Let me die, they will be back soon. All his efforts were in vain, for the girl was not leaving his sight. Her eyes were glossy, her nose as red as Rudolph's.

Then something really unexpected happened. Riley's body thumped on the ground with a loud thud. Everything was pitch dark and quiet, like a storm finally settling under the ground. Light tinge of dust surrounded him but he seemed to be unaware of his surroundings.

Am I dead? He thought, looking around before his body froze. He can look around? So that means that he was finally dead?

"Hey there, Everett."

A voice made him jump from his own skin. He frantically looked around but all he saw was darkness taunting him. Because this was not the usual darkness he associated his life from.

This was murk.

"You won't be able to see me."

Everett narrowed his eyes "Jesus?"

"Dude, you suicided. Jesus didn't call you. What makes you think he himself is going to come greet you here?" The voice was dripped in sarcasm, amusement.

Was this funny to him? Was my life a joke for this creature? After years of being tortured and ruthlessly denied, Everett wanted to scream a dozen pairs of lungs.

"You can call me post man, is that what you humans call messengers, yes?" The voice was getting closer to Everett. It's funny how one sense hones when a person is not able to see anything. "You want to die, I presume? It actually comes with a catch."

"Wait," Everett blurted out loud, not even sure as to whom he was talking to. "So I'm not dead?"

"You're in an intermediate state."

"Bardo?"

There was a faint ruffling of wind but Everett did not feel it. "No. Now when you go back to Earth, you'll be the same Everett Jacobs."

"I won't go back!" He sneered, trying to get up but it was of no use. It was as if someone had tied him to the ground, expecting his outburst of emotion.

Everett has had enough of his life on Earth, he despised living. He craved dying. He could not go back, he just must not.

"You think you'd be able to run away from life that easily without fighting?" That voice was mocking him again, it was only now that Everett noticed about the language the creature of speaking. It was foreign, definitely not english.

And as Everett spoke the next words, he realized he too, was conversing in a completely foreign language. "I went through shit there. I fought, I survived, I waited. But I am not going back there!"

"Everett, you have a task. Complete it and your wish will be my command." The voice was right besides Everett now, but hands tied; he could not flail them around to touch anything. "What's your wish?"

Everett could not bear anything else in his mind than to utter, "death."

"Zoe, is her name." The voice spoke with finality. "She needs you, help her out. Make her life easy, allow her to see what you can. After that and only after that, can you die."

"I don't understand.." Everett whispered, perplexed.

"She would be the only person who could see you. You can transform yourself in other people's bodies except Zoe's. But be very vigilant, Everett Jacobs. Remember our deal, for I do not break promises." There was a long pause and Everett started panicking before the voice came back on. "Assist her, and you will not be harmed. Help her out, and I'll personally come to take your soul away like a feather."

Everett paused, thought. But he realized he could not use his mind at that very moment. It was not his anymore. The only word that was instilled in his brain was 'okay' and 'promise'. What was wrong with him? Was he dreaming? Were the drugs still acting up?

Help this girl out, named Zoe. It could not be much hard, right? He could just bark at her to get her shit together and then he can die, peacefully.

Be very vigilant, Everett Jacobs. The voice was ringing in every pore of his body.

"Promise?" Everett whispered.

"Promise." Came back the answer and Everett knew there and then that he could trust this deal with his life.

And that, ladies and gentleman, is the story of how Everett Jacobs died.

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[A/N]

Hey there! Thankyou for stopping by on my book :) it means a lot.
I have a virtual bear hug for you if you accept it because hugs are important. Hugs can save someone, and maybe a hug could have saved Everett *sigh*

Anyways, please vote, and comment what you like/dislike about my story.
Or just vote because that'd be enough appreciation for me :")