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Scarlett

H ave you ever wondered where you go when you die? Like, is there truly a heaven or even a hell? Or perhaps a whimsical realm filled with endless sunshine, fluffy clouds, vibrant blue skies, and butterflies, and possibly some random dude playing piano in the background?

I have. I think we all have,

For me, my journey didn’t lead me to heaven or even hell, for that matter, which made it seem like I was finally getting my karma.

I didn’t step into some idyllic paradise adorned with clear skies and pearly white gates. What I got was darkness, despair, and confusion—exactly how I imagined my heaven to be.

I didn’t get to see my dead mother, maybe because the memories of her I buried too deep and purposely forgot—memories I chose to block out after my father murdered her so I could heal from the extreme loss. The pain was too overwhelming, so I buried it, pretending I had no mother at all as I grew up, even though we shared some amazing moments before that horrific night I had to witness.

In my heaven, my father wasn’t there, either. Nor was Carli, whose life was taken in a twisted cover-up that ultimately spiraled into my own demise .

In fact, I saw no familiar faces or any of those I had loved. There was no one there that I knew at all—no friends, no River, not even the places or people I once remembered when I was alive.

Instead, I found myself lost in the darkest depths of my mind, where all of my alternate realities played on an endless loop. I didn’t find solace among anyone I knew or the comforting places I once loved. Instead, I found myself brought back to either the cemetery or the mausoleum, in the company of the same four masked men who had torn my life apart in an instant.

Why was I here? I had no fucking idea. Why were they here with me? I didn’t fucking know either.

Every day their faces remained concealed beneath their masks—one black, one silver, one red, and one white—haunting presences I used to have nightmares about. Yet oddly enough, I felt an unsettling sense of belonging, and I desperately clung to them, hoping they’d know how to show me the way.

Even being dead, I needed safety. I needed guidance. I needed familiarity. And with the four masked men who ripped my life apart, I found exactly what I needed.

In my heaven, the sky stayed dark and dreary, constantly drenched in rain. Ironically, this was my absolute favorite weather when I was alive, making it seem only fitting that it accompanied me into the afterlife. It was far from the vibrant, blissful takes on heaven that were constantly portrayed in books and movies.

But it was my version of heaven—how I imagined the afterlife—and it felt exactly right, like I was right where I needed to be. However, all of my pain still lingered, echoing the agony I had known in my life, but my crazy meds were no longer needed, and my mind was far less tormented than before.

In my version of heaven, no birds sang—there were none at all. People didn’t laugh or smile; there was no one else around besides me, Blade, Saint, Nixon, and Riley—their faces always hidden behind those intimidating masks, though their eyes still glimmered with the same dark warmth they had when we all were alive.

Heartbreak and sadness clung to me like a second skin, as if those were the only emotions I could comprehend. My dead heart still thudded—especially in the presence of the men who held me captive, who I had fallen in love with just before our lives were abruptly cut short.

The entire experience was a confusing clusterfuck, and I struggled with it. It felt like every time I grew accustomed to my reality, a literal blink later, I was transported to an entirely new reality—yet the four masked men were always by my side.

That was my heaven—or maybe my hell... I couldn’t figure out which one.

Each masked man carried a part of me—fragments of my life, mixed with the broken pieces of their own stories.

Saint, whose intensity burned like fire, elicited the heat of passion I had never dared to express.

Blade, always calm and composed, radiated a sense of piercing clarity that often left my past heartbreaks throbbing beneath the surface.

Nixon moved in and out of the shadows, a ghost in the dark night, whispering secrets that tugged at my sanity.

And then there was Riley, whose presence danced between playful mischief and an all-consuming sorrow.

I felt drawn to all of them in ways I struggled to understand since they tortured me and ended up taking my life. Each day, the rain fell steadily, each droplet crystalizing the tension in the air, each splash a reminder of how fragile my existence has been before I met them.

But today was different.

When they turned to me—those intimidating masks hiding their intentions—I felt as though I could finally confront the chaos I had buried before we all took our last breaths. But I couldn’t talk—I couldn’t find the right words or any words for that matter. I needed to know why I was there or why they were.

Would they help guide me? Or were they still my chains, holding me in a place consumed with pain yet wrapped in dark comfort?

I wandered through the cemetery that felt both familiar and foreign, the gravestones glowing faintly in the dim light. It was a beautiful place, broken dreams colliding with memories that had become fuzzy and uncertain.

The masked men reached for me, their gloved hands extending like branches, beckoning me into the world between my past and whatever awaited beyond.

“You can’t stay lost forever,” Blade whispered, his voice a low growl that sent shivers of recognition through me.

I could feel their presence—a magnetic pull towards the chaos I had fought to escape.

“You have to face the truth.”

But what truth? Was it the truth of my mother’s death? The violence that had stained our lives? The longing buried beneath the rubble of my heart?

They moved closer, creating a path through the rain, guiding me to the center of the mausoleum—the one place I never thought I would return to, even in death. Inside, the air was thick with a pulse that rattled my fractured spirit. The walls seemed drenched with pain, whispers swirling around me like a haunting melody.

“This is where it happened,” I breathed, my voice barely rising above a whisper of my own despair. “This is where my life was shattered.”

“It’s time to piece it back together,” Saint replied softly, tilting his head as if to suggest they weren’t the ones to blame for the way things turned out. “You can only heal if you embrace what you’ve lost.”

But they were to blame, all of them. Could I still hold a grudge in the afterlife?

I stepped forward hesitantly, feeling the weight of their collective gaze on me. Flashes of moments and emotions flickered in the glowing light—each a reminder of what I had buried deep within .

The moment I allowed a memory of my mother to wash over me, it was if the air went electric. I felt the warmth of her smile, the safety of her embrace, and then the sickening twist as the horror tore it all apart. I shook the memory out of my head, my heart racing, as the walls of the mausoleum began to morph. The bricks flexed, becoming faces and hands, twisting into the memories of my life. Each face was innocent, filled with joy or sadness—familiar yet unreachable. My heart ached as they faded in and out of existence, shadows of who I once knew, places that had been my sanctuary before everything fell apart.

“ Remember ,” Saint whispered, gently nudging me forward.

And just like that, the grief continued, weaving itself around me, drawing me deeper into the place I thought I had escaped. Questions swirled, demanding answers I wasn’t sure I was ready to confront.

My afterlife had become a purgatory of emotional reckoning, and I wasn’t used to it. I was used to the rain. The silence. The comfort of knowing the masked men were here with me. Now it seemed like there were still plans for me after all, and I had no idea what to make of it.

In the heart of it all, they stood—my four masked men, guiding me through my beautiful, dark heaven. I was alive in a brutal reality of reckoning and acceptance, and whether I liked it or not, I had to rediscover who I truly was and try to transform my pain into purpose as I navigated this twisted new reality.

In the blink of an eye, everything changed again. But this—this was something entirely new.

A shrill beeping pierced my eardrums, and an overwhelming bitter taste consumed my mouth, my tongue and cheeks feeling as dry as cotton. I couldn’t move, but this time I was lying down. I tried to open my eyes, but I couldn’t; it felt like they were glued shut.

I felt panic rising in my throat, but I couldn’t scream. The beeping only got louder as the seconds ticked on, and I kept forcing myself to try to move.

My eyes finally opened first, and an extremely bright light instantly blinded me, burning my iris’ until I relented and squeezed my lids shut again.

Where was I? What was happening now?

“She’s awake, ” someone in the distance said, and it left me utterly confused.

I felt suffocated, completely helpless because I still couldn’t move, and most of all, I was lost in a new world where I couldn’t see the masked men. What the fuck was going on?

“ Scarlett .” I heard my name being called again, this time in a soothing voice that helped me calm down.

The beeping was still there, but much quieter. I felt hands all over me, checking things over that I couldn’t see because my eyes were still closed.

“Scarlett, open your eyes for us,” they said, and I couldn’t figure out who was talking for the life of me.

Still, I fought hard to open my eyes, and when I did, my vision blurred for the first few minutes. A warm rag was wiped across them, shocking me awake even more. I blinked a few more times until the image in front of me became clear—still confusing, though.

People in blue and white huddled around me, masks covering their mouths while their worried, hopeful eyes pierced into mine. I still didn’t know what was happening and why this scenario would be a part of my heaven, but it wasn’t changing when I blinked. So I was forced to accept it and embrace it.

“You’re one lucky girl, ” one of the people said, sliding the mask down to his chin, smiling at me with relief evident on his face.

“What? ” I managed to mutter, my throat hoarse and painfully dry.

But I tried again, a sinking feeling in my gut that this part was completely different. “Where am I? ” I asked, the world around me coming into focus.

“You’ re at the hospital here in Salem. You were brought in almost dead from what looked like a poisoning, along with a few others. Luckily, after being in a medically induced coma for a couple of weeks, you were ready to wake up today.”

“I’m alive?” I was shocked, still wondering if this was all some fucked-up joke. But looking at them, I could tell they were serious.

“Yes, honey. You’re alive, and you’re going to be okay.”

I was really alive. I was going to be okay. But one question still haunted me, keeping me from fully embracing my second chance at life.

“Did anyone else make it, or am I the only one?” I closed my eyes and held my breath, bracing myself for the answer.

I didn’t know whether I wanted the masked men to live or die. I was truly torn about it, especially remembering all of the things they put me through. Still, a part of me hoped at least one of them was, and I couldn’t figure out why. My heart hurt, though; I could feel it breaking as the reality of my situation began hitting me all at once.

I might be alive, but all my friends were dead, my life was ruined, and things would never be the same no matter how hard I tried to fix it.

I looked up into the doctor’s eyes, waiting for his answer. He smiled at me and took my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I’m sorry, Scarlett, it doesn’t look like any of them survived. You were the only one.”

I felt like I got hit by a bus when he said it, and I could finally feel tears falling down my cheeks. I no longer had them to guide me through this fucked-up world. But deep down, I knew I didn’t need them.

I had a chance at a second life, to move on from the horrors of my past, and I sure as fuck was going to take it instead of dwelling on the fact that my captors had lost their lives—that I killed them.

A smirk curled across my dry, cracked lips as I remembered how they died. I fought for my life. I didn’t just give up and let them win. I won in the end, and I took my power back.

I had a new life to live without having to look over my shoulder, and I was going to make sure that living it was exactly what I did.