Bad Blood

Prelude

:: picture of kat ::

It was a beautiful day to die. 

For the first time in weeks, the sky was streaked with different shades of blue, resembling a frantically painted watercolor piece The scintillating sun was singing a melody, its chords of light rays blocking out the cacophony of rain clouds. On the streets, people I didn’t know were buzzing with excitement, chattering away boisterously - sunlight and warm days were a rarity in Alaska. 

I, on the other hand, had remained sheltered at home. With Netflix open, I had binge-watched almost 30 episodes of The Vampire Diaries in a mere 24 hours. My sketchbook had lay open, a page filled with eraser pits and the beginnings of a portrait staring up at me. Drawing Paul Wesley was no challenge for me, it would take two hours give or take - or if I was in the mood, an hour and a half. Though when it came to an “easy-feat” like socializing, I was out. Maybe it was because of my lack of social skills, or the fact that I didn’t entertain the whole idea of “communicating with others” idea. Either way, I was socially inept.

I tried being more gregarious - I really have, but it had always resulted in disaster.

I’m not trying to be hyperbolic here or anything, but seriously, I had always known that being social would lead to my death.

And it did.

***

Some say when you die, you will find yourself in the hall of judgement. Others say that it’s complete darkness. In my life, I had sort of labelled myself as agnostic, never really giving these things any second thoughts. These matters had seemed so out of reach, so instead, I had decided to busy myself with the trivial details of life. Smart move.

Either way, I just wanted to say they were wrong. They were all wrong.

I blinked in disbelief, wondering if my eyes were failing me.

Maybe we hallucinate in death… I bit my lower lip, There is no freaking way that the afterlife is an Italian Restaurant. What the hell? 

This place looked like any other fancy Italian restaurant. Candles were placed on every table, the flickering flame casting occasional shadows on the beige wall. It was marble this marble that, with a scaled-down version of a chandelier dangling above my head. Waiters dressed in suits and bow ties scurried around, a white napkin resting on their wrists as they carried bottles of champagne around. I furrowed my brows as I realized that no waitresses could be seen at all.

Gender inequality? Even in death? Really?

Though the lack of female representation bothered me, the one thing that really unsettled me was that this place was empty. It seemed that no other person - excluding the waiters and myself was present. Okay, maybe I didn’t exactly classify as a person, but soul may be a bit too extreme. Judging by my nonchalance towards the whole situation, the whole ‘dying’ thing must not have sunken in yet. Maybe it was the atmosphere.

I jolted back in surprise as classical music blared through unseen speakers.

Yep, it was definitely the atmosphere. Or the lack of atmosphere if you get what I mean. 

“No tears? Really?” 

A high pitched yelp escaped my lips, “Holy shit!” I cursed loudly.

“A pity really,” A low chuckle sounded behind me.

I whirled around only to find myself looking at a striking man. He was seated on an upholstered chair with a long leg swung over one armrest, his left arm on the other, fingers drumming impatiently. Despite his ashen features and gangly frame, something about him exuded power. There was no freaking way I was going to let my guard down - especially with those eyes. The word black wouldn’t encompass the hollowness of his eyes, they were smothering, endless, unfathomable.