The Day I Died

The Day I Cried At Heaven's Books

Chapter 3

The Day I Cried At Heavens Books

I slowly wipe the tears from my eyes and place the book back on the floor. I'm sat on the fluffy white beanbag chair, trying to control my sobs as I reach the end of The Fault In Our Stars. Damn John Green.

Laughing breathlessly I stand up and walk around, flapping my hands around my face and breathing deeply. I'm pathetic. After several hours in this room, I'm becoming quite bored. The air is cool and stiff, there are no windows and the silence is starting to get on my nerves. I have read 2 books, a Modern Romeo and Juliet and then The Fault In Our Stars. Both of which have made me cry!

After scanning the remaining books on the shelf I have come to a conclusion: Heaven has no happy books whatsoever and I will cry at every single one of them.

Its so quiet in here, I wish I had some music, Alice and I would always listen to music at my house blaring through the speakers; we would listen to it at school, at home, at the park. We even shared earphones when we went shopping! Dancing and singing along to crazy songs and laughing when people have us funny looks, or started joining in! My heart falls at the though of my best friend, how I might never get those moments back if... If..

What happens if I don't save another life?

I begin pacing the room, dry tears staining my face, question after question biting into my mind.

What if I save another life but don't save Maisie again?

What if I refuse the second chance?

My feet start to ache after a few minutes and I stop suddenly.

What if I have to save someone who doesn't want to be saved?

I run my hands through my hair, twisting the ends together over and over. The blood on my head has gone, along with the pristine dress.

The bedroom contained new clothes, a loose, flowing top and a pair of white wash denim jean shorts leaving me feeling clean and refreshed. The clothes smell of lemons and strong disinfectant, am I the first to wear them?

Why did I die?

I didn't lie, I volunteered to do the washing up every now and then, I wasn't a bully, I didn't swear frequently! Why me!?

I walk over to the wall and rest my forehead against it, my fists pounding softly against the peeling paintwork.

"LET ME OUT!" I scream, my fists continuing to move against the wall. After several moments I crumple to the ground, my knees tucked to my chest, my hair hiding my face.

How do I have any tears left?

I promise you I don't usually cry this often, not even at the sad part of Titanic. But after today, the rain, the car crash and the fact that I died, i think that I have the right to loose a few tears at least.

Death makes you emotional, who knew?

I gently slap my cheeks and blink rapidly.

"Come on Scar, it's only death, if you can get through maths you can get through death!" I whisper repeatedly to myself, getting to my feet and walking around the room.

Is it morning yet? I wish I had a watch. I've never really been very good at time keeping, people joked that I'd even be late for my own funeral. Which is ironic now. I don't do well in small places with no windows, no escape, no air; I'm a tad claustrophobic.

I'm just about to sit down on the fluffy beanbag again when a grumbled cough sounds out to my left.

"Are you okay there Scarlett?" asks a small, stumpy, red faced man and I nod my head, startled. I don't even question how he can know my name; if I can have a Halo, he can know my name.

"Is it tomorrow yet?" I ask after a few seconds, wondering if I can finally get out of this suffocating room.

"Almost." he says with a smile, he is missing his front two teeth "I just brought you some water and a bit of breakfast. Diane will come and get you in a few hours and take you to Steph. The council told me all about you, it's a pleasure to meet such a brave girl!"

He holds his hand out and I shake it gently, smiling at him. "Thankyou, but it really wasn't that br-"

Then he's gone. Poof. No smoke, no warning.

What just happened?

Heaven is really starting to mess with my head. I look at the space where he just was, my outstretched hand now holding a light silver tray covered in a gold case. I guess this is breakfast? Hesitantly, I pick up the cool gold lid with my other hand and peer in. Pancakes, toast, cereal, juice, hot chocolate, tea. My eyes widen and I smile.

Well heaven might not have good books but it certainly has good breakfasts.