Page 80 of Trick or Treat
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.
Myeyes 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 partwascompletely 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.