Epiphany

Prologue

A breath.

Short, quick.

For what seems like the tenth time, her thumb brushes over her arm, squeezing her skin. The tip of the syringe slightly  dipped in liquor glistened in the small amount of sunlight that managed to slip between the blinds of the basement's window, before disappearing underneath her skin.

Heroin flows throughout her bloodstream, she'd expected an instant reaction, but she still felt the same. Desolate, wan, sickly, weak.

Helpless.

How long would it be until it reached her heart? Until it urged it to start beating again? Until it made her feel something again, something that was good.  Tangible, bright. Tears slid down her cheeks, salty and itchy against her skin. Her parents had called minutes prior. In vain, she thought they might have still cared.

She could still hear her parents' words. Sharp and hostile. They cut through her chest, severed most of her arteries and left her to bleed out all alone, until nothing but her body was left.

Empty.

Little light, Why don't you just kill them?

Come on, it'll be fun. I promise.

The Voice, that distinct, sing songy conscious crafted from the darkness of her mind, reverberated across the useless shell that was her and she trembled with fear, of herself, of what she'd become.

You killed HIM, didn't you?

3 feet away, a body lay on the floor, blood pooled across the floorboards, dripping between the cracks. The body of 56 year old Samuel Fitch, landlord.  A hole where his heart should still be beating, a hole in his neck, and one in the midst of his head. Stabbed thrice with a shard of the very beer bottle, Lucette Silas had been drinking. Stumbling through the apartment completely inebriated, she couldn't see straight. He was at her side, steadying her, getting her to her room, getting her a nice, refreshing glass of water. Then he was the enemy, reprimanding her. Why couldn't she be less damn careless?

A sob escaped her throat.

"He was only trying to help. He didn't deserve to die."

But, didn't it feel so good? Why do they always feel the need to tear you down?

She didn't remember breaking the bottle, stabbing him or lugging him down the steps. She didn't even remember feeling angry.  All she could remember was all of the blood. Blood was such a queer substance, when inside your body, warm, vital. But when it left your veins,  it became cold, useless. A reminder that all life is so short, so quick. It can be taken in the blink of an eye.

Why can't you just do what you want, little light? Why are YOU never right?

Then, the  air shifted, everything became colder, and time seemed to stop. She looked up, slowly at first, and then quickly and she backed away as her brain function slowly registered again. A man, with dark shoulder length hair, and a long black trench coat, stood threateningly, blocking out the light from the window.

She didn't even hear him come down the steps. His eyes were the only features she could see prominently, a shining golden color. They were full of melancholy, perhaps it was for her, out of pity. Or for what he was about to do. The man stepped closer, revealing the rest of his chiseled face. His lips turned down into a frown.

She realized, he held a gun in his right hand, one of those fancy antique's that were engraved with roses and stuff. And it was leveled right at her heart. Her breaths grew shallow, and she backed up, scooting backwards to the wall, blood smearing across the floor.

He steps forward, his hand closes around her throat, not enough to choke her, but to make sure she was looking at him. His gaze both  petrified and calmed her, so that her eyes fluttered shut, and he whispered in her ear.

"Do you wish to repent?"

A different voice, cool and clear. The voice of Death. She barely nodded before the gun exploded in her chest. Her eyes widen, her voice, detached and empty, makes its final sound, and she slumps forward.

Behind her eyelids, her soul is being extracted from her body, she is being given a new life, with new meaning. A new purpose. She pledged to do anything in her power to make things right again.