0 | Prologue

No one knows what it feels like to die, or that's what people believed, for there are no witnesses that—let's face it—'lived' to tell the tale. And the claims of people that is said to 'come back from the other side' could not be verified through any means, and it could just be pigments of their imagination during those intervals that their pulse stopped momentarily. After all, their statements are, one way or another, similar to the others, and also similar to what people would've imagine the 'other side' would be.

Just like a peculiar case of mass hysteria, when a group of people undergo similar psychological conditions such as anxiety or excitement—for a example, a mass 'possession' of students in local high schools in rural and remote areas, when, in reality, they all underwent panic attacks at the same time due to one of their friends going through the same thing, that triggered the commotion.

Pretty much suspicious, yeah?

At least, that's a reasonable, and a pretty much logical explanation to those claims of what the after life should be. And as of the moment, Chione, who is pretty much aware that she's 'dead' after being sniped on the head, experiences non of those claims.

In fact, she's does not know if this darkness that surrounds her is the afterlife. Doesn't look like one, actually. And this place did not definitely have any 'life forms' except her. She tried looking around when she found that she's finally able to move around, but ended up where she woke up. And, well, the place is the same as every inch of it so she's not sure.

Enough dilly-dallying, she tried to also call out to someone, possibly Jean, but to her disappointment, she got no response. As in, she's all by herself.

'Is this hell?' Chione thought as she stared at nothing in particular, because there's nothing there except her. She sighed and lied down, not really sure what to do in this place, well aware that this is some sort of a punishment to all the sins she committed on her previous life.

How pathetic.

She remained still and silent. Trying very much to process the fact that she's already dead, and found out that she did not mind, really. After all, she tried taking her own life before, only that, she failed because of Jean.

She flinched at the name.

Chione forgot the fact that before dying, she witnessed how the guy who saved her from dying before, the guy who took care of her while she's recuperating, and the guy who pestered her when she feels lonely, went down without much of a fight—he's also shot on the head.

Memories of the momentary pain at the back of her head, the pain in her heart overwhelming her body as she collapsed on tbe ground before Jean's limp and lifeless figure, the exhaustion from running away, the warmth of Jean's hand, the frustration of discovering that she's fooled by Jean—it all came crashing down on her in a tidal wave. The memories before she died played in reverse, emphasizing the moments she made grave mistakes, the moments the emptiness of losing her family gnawing on her chest, especially her most memorable memories with her family, friends, and Jean.

Of all the things she would remember, it really has to be that annoying guy.

A myriad of emotions threatened to swallow her whole, if not alive because she's already dead. She gasped for air, realizing that it is futile—how could one's consciousness breathe? She's already a spirit, a lost soul, a consciousness that got separated with its vessel.

Surprise was an understatement when she felt tears prickled the corners of her eyes—how come she's still able to feel, anyway? She's already dead. A goner. She should already be burning in hell already, or resting in heaven, hypocritically singing with the angels and laughing with the saints.

Misery is an understatement.

In fact, no word could describe the hellish pain she's going through as of the moment, as if she's being chopped off alive, cooked in a pressure cooker, and then grinded into a pulp. It hurts more than that, of course.

She writhed and thrashed, trying to ease the pain, to no avail. She screamed, and her throat went numb due to the pain in there. She's not sure if there's even a voice coming from her.

Then all her senses started to shut down, just like when she died. Only this time, it was torturous. She slowly felt her senses numbing, and then completely extinguishing, disconnecting itself from her fuzzy brain.

'Maybe this is really hell.'

That's the last thought that could be formed on Chione's mind, before she died again.