Fate's Exchange (Twisted Fate, Book 1)

Chapter Five

Death is strange, almost like being forced to sleep.

I felt its pain—or at least the tortures that led to dying—followed by its confusion. But somehow, I woke up, blinking as I was bombarded by a too-bright light. My body jerked, one second complacent as I lay on the soft floor of where I was with my arm above my head, and the next feeling on edge as though someone had dumped a bucket of ants on me. How was I awake? Breathing? It was just another bizarre thing I couldn't figure out—I died and didn't seem to be dead. Was that possible or was I going insane? Because judging by my new accommodations, I was certifiable.

There was no sound, only light. There was no floor, yet I didn't fall. There were no walls, no trees... nothing. There was no end in sight. The white fluff surrounding me made me feel as though I was inside a snow globe of nothing but a sea of cloud and light, too bright and insubstantial for comfort. I couldn't breathe. It felt like I was choking on too pure of an air supply that my lungs weren't capable of recognizing.

It was amazing. Terrifying. I was overwhelmed with a fear of the unknown.

I looked at my wrists—no wounds. The gashes and rope burns had vanished without explanation, and I felt no pain. How could that be? My heart began racing to an invisible finish line. It hadn't been a dream—no way was my imagination that active. My emotions began to take a rollercoaster ride. I'd been content, woke up feeling jarred, and now... This was unnerving.

"Alyssa Frank."

My body froze, and I held my breath to listen, but nothing followed. God. Now I was hearing voices in my head? I exhaled slowly. Yep. Get me committed. Okay, Aly, breathe. It's just your imagination giving you an early heart attack. Why would you worry about that if you're already dead?

"Alyssa Frank."

I jumped, and my heart rate began to pitter-patter, pumping blood through my veins so fast, I could feel the rush. The disembodied voice that resounded again was like the surround-sound in a movie theatre without a screen. That wasn't your imagination, Nimrod. Pay attention!

The voice was everywhere... and nowhere. It wasn't female or male; it simply was. But it wasn't. I felt like I'd gone schizophrenic. Voices, delusions, thinking that something was watching me—all bad signs. Why was this so weird? Why couldn't whatever power that ruled life just let me live or die, and stop with all the confusion? I was so confused. It would have been better to remain in the darkness, feeling nothing.

"W-who's there?" I pulled in a deep breath, my eyes darting around as if somehow, I'd be able to see what wasn't there. "Who are you? Where am I?" I pulled myself to my knees and rested my hands on my thighs. "Hello?"

"Alyssa Frank," the voice called again, its pitch lower than before.

A chill ran through my body and my skin rose like a chicken plucked of its feathers. My eyes burned, but I couldn't blink. If I closed them, just for a second, I would miss something. Or get hurt. Was that crazy? I'd died, and I was worried about a voice? I swallowed the lump in my throat. If it didn't feel so real, I would laugh at how far-fetched it was.

"Oh, come on! You know my name. What's yours? Hmm?" The disorientation I'd felt when I woke began to subside, allowing me to think more clearly.

A faint breeze blew from behind me, gusting my hair into my face. I pursed my lips and puffed the strands away from my mouth, trying without success to hold it back with my hands.

"Alyssa Frank, you have been brought here for the judgment of your mortal life before you will be able to move into the afterlife that you are deemed worthy of." The voice was higher now, just as vacant. Robotic. "I believe mortals call it life after death."