The In-Between; Part 1

I open my eyes, and all I can see is white. But the funny thing is, it's not blinding like I thought it would be. It's not an overpowering sight, but it's kind of soft and gentle. And it's not a room either, not like I expected it to be. I don't know why I expected it to be a room, but that's the picture I had in my head as I slid the knife down.

So here I am, in a blob of white matter, pondering what happens next. I expect after what I have done I'll get a one-way ticket downstairs, never to be seen again. But maybe someone will have mercy on my pathetic soul, and let me in past the pearly gates. Not likely.

“Why'd you do it?”

I turn my head to see a man leaning against a wall not ten feet away. At least I think it's a wall. There is no way of telling since everything is a total blank page, like space without stars. The only other difference is the fact that there is something similar to gravity. I think. I'm not moving, not floating, and my feet feel like there is something solid beneath them but I can't see anything when I look down. Well, I do see something. I see the absence of anything clothing my body. I cover myself with my hands and shoot a glare at the other occupant of this area.

“Why'd you do it?” he asked again.

“Why am I not wearing anything?” I countered. He shrugged.

“You died, girly, what did you think you would happen? Spirits can't wear earthly clothes.”

I continued to glare at him. “Think you could get me some non-earthly clothes?”

He shrugged again, brushing a trench coat off of his shoulders. Beneath it he was wearing a form-fitting black shirt, black jeans, and combat boots. He had a horn fastened to his side. “You can wear this until we can get you something more appropriate. Which shouldn't be long, since Priscilla started making you clothing the minute that she knew you were coming.”

“Who is Priscilla?” I asked, reaching for the coat and grasping it tentatively, half scared he was going to take it back again, turning to put it on when I saw that he wouldn't. “And why is she making me clothes?” I slipped the covering over my shoulders, taking care to not show anything important. When I turned back, I was surprised to see that he had moved so that his back was facing me.

“Are you decent?” he queried, facing me when I answered in the affirmative. “Who is Priscilla? Well, she was a tent-maker, but these days she prefers to sew clothes for all the souls who enter this realm.” I think back to my days of Sunday school, and realize that I know who he is talking about.

But what surprises me is that he is talking about her like she is totally real, when she's been dead for around two thousand years. Oh. Wait. I'm dead.

“Where am I?” I whispered, half scared of the answer.

“You know exactly where you are.”

“I need to hear you say it so that I can believe it.”

“You're in a room.”

That was not the answer I was expecting.

“Seriously, where is this place? Heaven? Hell? Nothing?”

“Well,” he pondered for a moment. “It's the in-between. The place where lost souls go until they find themselves again.”

“The Bible never said anything about an in-between.” I snapped, moving over to stand in front of him.

He chuckled. “So you have been paying attention in church. We were all wondering if you were or not, and when we asked Him if you were He just laughed and said we had to find out for ourselves.”

Just then, a woman suddenly appeared to my right. I jumped when I caught sight of her. Looking me up and down, she clucked disapprovingly. “Gabriel,” she chastised, “how could you let the poor dear stand like this? She must be cold, on top of being scared to-” she cut herself off and grinned sheepishly. “I'm sorry,” she continued after and awkward pause where I contemplated being offended at the remark, “I forget sometimes.”

She drew me away from the man-Gabriel-and shoved some articles of clothing into my hands. “I'll just talk with Gabe while you're changing, and then leave you to alone to talk about this.

Talk about this? I wondered. What was there to talk about? I was dead. End of story. If Gabey-boy would just tell me where I needed to go, we could end this little fiasco. After I put some pants on.

Wait a minute. Gabriel. The Messenger? Okay, it's official, when you die you lose your mind. First Priscilla, and now Gabriel. I was somehow dreaming about biblical figures, which could totally be explained by the fact that I read my Bible right before I died. That must have triggered some images in my brain, and I picked some random guy and gal off the street and turned them into these characters. This theory is totally awesome, except for the fact that I am dead and therefore can't dream. I'm right back to where I started.

By now, I have slipped the pants and shirt on. When I turn to thank Priscilla, she's gone. At my bewildered look, Gabriel smiles. “A lot of people die every day.” he says as an explanation. “She's got a lot of clothes to deliver and even more to make. She can't stay in one place for too long, says it disrupts her schedule.”

I nod and pretend to understand, even though I have no idea what the heck is going on. “You still don't get it do you?” he asks. I cough lightly, well aware of the fact that I have no poker face and have always been a bad liar.

“It's totally okay. Most people don't get it at first either. It's nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“Look, I'm sure that you're a good guy and all, since you saw me naked and didn't do anything,” yet, my mind whispers, “But I have no idea where I am? Shouldn't I be in hell right now?”

“Do you want to be in hell?” he asks nonchalantly.

“What kind of a question is that?!” I shriek, “Of course not!”

“Then why are you asking why you aren't there?”

“Hey mister, it seems that you should know. You act like you know me and everything about me.”

“I do. But I need to hear you say it.”

“Say what?” I am totally stalling.

His voice grows somewhat hard. “Don't play games with me kid. You need to say it. Admit it to yourself. Tell me why you should go to hell.”

“Why? You already know.” I grind out.

“Yes, I know,” his speech is a little more calm, “But do you?”

“Of course I know why I died!” I cry out, “Wouldn't I be stupid if I didn't?”

“I don't know,” his tone becomes sarcastic, “you tell me. Are you stupid since you won't admit what you did? This may be your only chance to get it out. I may decide to pull a magical lever that drops you down to the pits and you will have lost your chance.”

“But you already know, so why should I have to say it?”

His expression, which until now had been a carefully crafted mixture of carelessness and passivity, morphed into one of sadness. Watching him, looking at his eyes filled with tears I somehow knew that he would never shed, made me want to shed some myself. I shook my head quickly, clearing my traitor brain of such thoughts.

“I know what you did, and you know what you did. You know that I know what you did. But you need to admit it to yourself, otherwise none of this matters.”

“Why is it so all-fire important that I tell you how I died when you already know? It's over! It's done! I'm dead, can we not just get on with this?!”

“NO!” he was shouting in my face now, “No, we can not get on with this! Until you admit to yourself what you did you will never accept it and you will be condemned to walk in this place for eternity, never really knowing true peace? Is that what you want.” he contemplated me for a moment. “I don't think that's what you want. But I do think that you're scared. You're scared to admit it to yourself, because that would make this all the more real. You're acting tough and uncaring, but I see through your façade. You are nothing more than a coward, a scared little girl who-”

“I KILLED MYSELF!” I screamed, slapping him across the face. “I'm an believer who doesn't care about her religion and couldn't take it anymore so I downed a whole bottle of pills and slit my wrists!” I slid my arm back to hit him again but Gabriel caught it easily and pulled me to his chest. It felt so warm, so comforting that I buried my face next to his arm and sobbed.

It took a while for me to calm down. At least, I think it was a while. Time was just so abstract here that I had lost any sense of it. I didn't know if it was morning or night, early or late. It was a little confusing, to say nothing about how bad my directional senses had suddenly become.

Gabriel gently pulled my shoulders back and looked me dead in the eye. “Until you admitted it to yourself, you would never have accepted it. And then you would have been stuck here forever.”

I looked around again. “Where exactly is here?” I asked, stepping back out of his embrace.

“I told you. It's the in-between.”

“I got that part,” I told him, “but what is the in-between for?”

“Souls like yours.”

“Souls like mine?” I repeated, going on the defensive, “And just what is wrong with my soul?”

“Nothing!” he was quick to reassure me. “Absolutely nothing! You soul is completely perfect. It's just...” he paused, “undecided.”

I could feel the expression of incredulity spreading across my face. “What do you mean undecided?” I demanded, “I am dead. That's about as decided as you get.” I could no longer read his expression, and it scared me.

“What if I told you....”

“Told me what?”

“Maybe it's better if I showed you.”

“What are you talking about—HEY!”

I screamed as he grabbed me by the wrist and the...world (for lack of a better word) around us shifted. No longer an abstract white, colors began to invade the space. We never moved, his grip never lightened but I still felt as if I was being turned upside down and thrown around, just like a cat in a dryer.

It felt like an eternity before I was on solid ground again, and as dizzy as I was I quickly took in my surroundings. Gabriel's hand left my wrist as I moved forward slightly, examining the room he had somehow gotten us into.

It was clearly a hospital room, that much I could tell. From the look and feel of it, plus the fact that it was private, I placed my bet on us being in the ICU. There was a spare IV post, a desk covered with flowers, and I door that I assume led to the bathroom. The one bed was occupied, but thanks to the privacy curtain pulled around it I couldn't see if anyone was in it. I went to move it out of the way, curiosity getting the better of me like always, but Gabriel stepped in front of me and stayed my hand.

“Once you move this curtain,” he said in a warning tone, “what you see behind it cannot be unseen.”

“It can't be that bad,” I scoffed, “It's just a person. And from the looks of those flowers,” I pointed to a vase that contained some seriously wilting roses, “They've been here a while. So any superficial injuries are probably be gone. And even if they weren't, it's not like I can toss my cookies anymore, I'm dead, remember?”

As I spoke I pulled back the curtain. Looking down at the occupant of the room, I suppressed a scream that I'm sure the entire world would have heard if I let it out. Waves of panic, fear, and hopelessness crashed over me and I fell to my knees in the onslaught. I placed my head on the edge on the bed and tried my hardest not to hyperventilate. Lying on that bed, covered in bandages and hooked up to dozens of tubes, was me.

Gabriel placed his hand on my shoulder. The gesture was probably intended to be comforting, but it was anything but. “This, JJ, is the in-between.”