• “I’m just heading out!” I yelled to my roommate, Jane.
    “To the party?” Jane asked, coming over to me. She had her ‘Feminism, ain’t it cute?’ shirt on and was cleaning a glass.
    “Yeah. You sure you don’t want to come?” I sighed.
    “I’ll be fine, I don’t want to go.” Jane laughed.
    “Okay, I won’t force you. I should be back around midnight.” I hugged her.
    “Get off you lesbian!” She hit me with her rag.
    “Bye!” I laughed.
    “See you!” She called out as her favourite Placebo song blasted from the kitchen. Removing my shoes, I took my usual route down the fire escape to the first floor of apartments where the party was being held. Once outside the door of the apartment, I slipped my stilettos back on. I could hear the funky rave music blasting through the door. The party was pretty wild. It filled the whole apartment and extended out onto the terrace. Everywhere, people were dancing, snogging, drinking or taking pills. I went over to the guy who seemed to be handing out the drinks.
    “Can I get a beer, mate?” I asked.
    “Sure, love.” The guy wandered off into what I assumed was the kitchen. I sighed and sat down on a beanbag chair. Jane loved stuff like this. She was such a saddo, staying in and watching Red Dwarf reruns while I totally awesome rave was happening beneath her feet. I bet she’d start banging on the floor with a broom because we were making to much noise. The guy came back with my beer and smiled. Another guy in a hoodie came and sat down near me. He smiled and winked.
    “Not often you meet a hot girl who likes beer.” He smirked.
    “Not often you meet a hot guy who likes hot girls who like beer.” I retorted.
    “So, live in the block?” He asked.
    “Yeah, with my roommate. We’re upstairs.” I smiled. He sank into the chair and accidentally kicked a little beer on my shirt.
    “Ah! Sorry!” He gasped.
    “It’s okay. I better wash it out though, I don’t want my roommate thinking I’ve become an alcoholic. That happens when she can smell you through the door.” I laughed and navigated my way to the bathroom. The beer stank and I quickly scrubbed at it with the corner of a towel and cheap squirty soap. It smelt remotely better and I went back into the other room. The guy was still sitting there, waiting.
    “Hey.” He grinned.
    “So, anyway, you live on the block?” I asked, taking another drink.
    “No...” I said. I felt faint and took another drink. I heard the guy saying something but couldn’t make it out. At that point, everything went black.

    Cold. Ice. Pain. Fear.
    I woke up spluttering, my skin slippery and ice cold. I blinked in the harsh white light that illuminated the room I was in. I looked down at myself and started. I was in a bathtub. The water was now cold and there was no sign of soap. I let out a shriek as I saw a trickle of blood swirl around the freezing water. I desperately hoisted myself out of the bathtub and pulled a clean white towel around myself. My black hair stuck to my skin, which was odd considering I had a short bob and the hair reached my back. I took a quick look in the mirror. I was a lot paler than before and my eyes were bloodshot, not to mention my magically growing hair. This was weird. I walked towards the door but I felt strange, my feet slipped and wouldn’t listen to my brain. It felt like I had been dead for a thousand years. Wait...why did I use that phrase? It felt like I had been sleeping for a thousand years. I slumped to the floor and desperately tried to move my legs. I heard a door open in the hallway. ‘Jane’ I thought. Jane was my roommate and best friend, surely she would understand if I told her that I fell asleep in the bath, it’s not like it hadn’t happened before. I opened my mouth to yell for her.
    “J-” I instantly stopped. My throat ached and felt dry. I ran cold water from the tap underneath the mirror and drank.
    “JANE!” I yelled. The words slipped out of my throat easily. No answer, but there were still noises from the kitchen. I made my way into our infamous kitchen, which had survived so many of Jane’s cooking disasters and my stupid mistakes. I took a quick glance into my bedroom as I walked. I froze. It wasn’t my room... Well, it was, but not the way I usually had it. I always had a white and jade green colour scheme but this room was midnight blue and blood red. The once light wooden wardrobe was now black wood. I hurried to the kitchen. Jane HAD to be playing a prank on me. I flew in through the door. There was no Jane. Nobody I knew was in the kitchen. Instead, a tall black-haired man was sitting on the counter, legs swinging as he sipped something from my old ‘Life’s a b***h, then you die’ mug. He looked out of place, almost like a photo of our kitchen with his photo pasted on top. He had shadows in the wrong places and unblinking eyes.
    “That’s my mug!” I edged towards him.
    “So it is.” The man didn’t move.
    “What are you doing with it?” I asked.
    “Drinking.” He stated.
    “I can see that. Who are you?” The man sprang up and smiled warmly.
    “You must be Lolita; I’m Death, nice to meet you.” He offered me a hand to shake.
    “Oh ha-ha. Did Jane put you up to this?” I clutched my towel haughtily.
    “No...You’re dead and I’m here to take you to the underworld.” The man furrowed his brow.
    “Uhuh.” I sucked my teeth.
    “Look, I’ll show you.” The man grabbed my arm, which was still cold and led me to the bathroom. He took my head in his hand and forced it towards the bathtub. The water was stained with red and a message had been scrawled across the tiles. ‘Call a doctor.’
    “That’s not all, look at your waist.” The man flicked my towel. I glared at him but dared dart a glance to my stomach. There was an ugly hastily stitched wound.
    “Okay, okay, joke’s over. What is this? Paint?” I laughed.
    “No! Look, I need to take you to the underworld.” The man snarled.
    “Yeah, yeah. Oh, by the way... I want my room back the way it was.” I smiled and tried to make my way past him.
    “I will force you there if you don’t come NOW.” He frowned deeply.
    “Yeah , yeah.” I giggled.
    “Listen carefully. YOU ARE DEAD. I AM DEAD. WE ARE DEAD. You are NOT living, you are D-E-A-D.” The guy jumped up and down, waving his arms around frantically as he did so.
    “So are you from Jane’s interpretive dance class or what?” I asked.
    “Ugh.” He collapsed against the bathroom wall.
    “Look, Jane’s pranked me before. Is this a wig?” I wandered off into my own thoughts, tugging at the black curtain of hair around my face. I yelped in pain as the hair tugged at my roots.
    “It’s real.” ‘Death’ sighed.
    “Uhuh...” I tried so hard to sound confident. I absent-mindedly padded into my room and pulled out my jeans. They weren’t pale blue. They were red, “Messing with my clothes, too?”
    “They’re yours.” ‘Death’ moaned.
    “Whatever.” I sighed, pulling out more outrageous clothes. I settled on the red jeans, a black vest top, big black platform boots and fishnet arm warmers. I’m pretty sure they had come from my old pink vest, slouch boots and fluffy gloves. I tied my unruly black hair back into a high ponytail and headed for the couch. ‘Death’ was already slouched on one side. I flicked the TV on and searched for a good channel. Nearly every one was on standby.
    “Never anything good on anyway.” I gulped.
    “De-ad” ‘Death’ muttered.
    “Shut up.” I chimed, losing my patience. ‘Death’ wandered into the kitchen. I kept surfing through the ‘temporarily down’ channels. ‘Death’ returned, holding a knife.
    “Okay, proof I’m dead.” He sighed, dragging the blade across his arm. Nothing happened. It was like cutting a doll, there was a line but no blood or real damage.
    “Nice, did you use rubber?” I asked.
    “Proof you’re dead.” He put a hand on top of my head and slashed my throat. I screamed but felt no pain. I felt the slash, it was definitely there but not a single trace of blood was on me.
    “But...but...” I stammered.
    “Believe me yet?” Death asked.
    “Where’s Jane?” I felt tearful just saying it.
    “Ah...let me show you.” Death held out his hand. This was it. I either went with Death to meet my fate or I stayed stuck in this apartment, memories haunting me. To make it worse, Death smiled. I looked behind me, evaluating the situation. Silently, I made my choice with a simple blink of my eyes.

    Clinging to the closest possible thing, I fell to the ground. I was almost crushed to the point of no air by the intense weight...or would have been if I had any breath left at all.
    “Careful.” Death sighed, lifting himself up off me. Still shaking, I pulled myself up.
    “Where are we?” I asked.
    “Morgue.” Death replied.
    “O...Oh...” my voice travelled up by about three octaves. Morgue? Was this where Jane was? I prayed she was working there.
    “There she is.” He gestured to a corpse on an operating bed. It had Jane’s choppy short dyed pink hair, her outrageous tattoos and the same pouty mouth. Next to it, organs were in jars.
    “Th...This is Jane?” I gulped.
    “When your murderer took your kidney, Jane walked in and tried to save you. She called 999 instantly. Unfortunately, he was still there. Slaughtered her pretty badly, made sure nobody found out. He might still be alive, or he may have killed himself.” Death shrugged.
    “Why isn’t she like me?” I asked.
    “You were pretty intact. Your brain, heart and body were fine. When you die, you take on the form of your deceased self. Jane could not function with her...state. You could. End.” Death explained.
    “But...” I started.
    “No more.” Death sighed.
    “But I want to know...”
    “NO MORE!” Death yelled. I shrank away, scared. He looked fiercer than he had when he first appeared in my kitchen. He held out his hand and a long, pointed scythe materialised in it.
    “Can anyone else see us?” I asked, after a long silence.
    “Only the other dead.” Death said, without looking at me.
    “What about my parents?” I asked again.
    “They can’t see you, weren’t you listening? God. I work for eternity and I get stuck with a stupid kid like you.” Death spat.
    “My parents are dead.” I whispered. Death looked at me. We both stood in silence again.
    “Then, yes, they can see you.” Death nodded.
    “So I can meet other dead people?” My mouth twitched.
    “Yes.” Death sighed.
    “SO I CAN MEET JIMMY SULLIVAN AND KURT COBAIN AND MICHAEL JACKSON?” I flailed my arms around madly. Death wasn’t standing where he had been. I turned my head to see him hitting himself with the scythe.
    “This is your job...” he was muttering.
    “AND FREDDIE MERCURY AND JOHN LENNON AND PATRICK SWAYZE?” I yelled directly at him. As I took another breath in, he clamped his hand over my mouth.
    “Please shut up.” He moaned. I licked his hand and he drew it away in disgust.
    “Well can I meet them?” I asked.
    “No.” He snapped.
    “Why not?” I whined.
    “Because if you met them, they’d probably pray for a second death, you’re that annoying.” Death rolled his eyes.
    “I’m offended.” I smirked.
    “Shouldn’t you be mourning Jane?” Death huffed.
    “I don’t think she’d want me to mourn. Jane was like that. She always wanted the last laugh, never wanted anyone to pity her or see her as weak.” I gulped. It was true. When we were younger, Jane broke her leg and had to be taken to hospital. Whenever any of the kids from school came to see her, she’d laugh at them and tell them not to care. She was always reassuring me that when she died, she would be in a better place and that it was pointless being a sad mess when that was how the cookie crumbled. Death was absent-mindedly looking around at the other bodies while I focused on Jane. I had a sudden memory of when she dyed her hair.
    “Hey! What do you think?” Jane laughs.
    “You look like Jeffree Star!”I snort.
    “Babe, I could look like Ringo Starr for all I care! I look hot!” Jane winks.
    “So, why did you do it?” I ask as she sits on the sofa.
    “You know, liability reasons.” Jane shrugs.
    “Like what?” I giggle.
    “I dunno, if I steal something they’ll be looking for a girl with pink hair, so if I dye it, I’ll be free.” Jane laughs.
    I remembered her laugh. It made you feel like nothing ever mattered. She was always laughing about something and you couldn’t help but join in, even if she was laughing at you or if she had done something really bad. I remembered her big blue eyes. She used to sleep with her eyes open sometimes, just to freak me out. It always worked, but if anyone else freaked me out, she’d kill them. I remembered her piercings. She had loads, some nobody even knew about. I knew her parents didn’t approve of them, but they loved her. Every year we used to visit them. They treated me like one of their kids. Jane never complained about them and I never heard them argue. It was easy to believe I was dead, the little wisp of air that nobody ever noticed, but Jane couldn’t be dead. Jane was always too lively and loved. She couldn’t be dead.
    “Well she is.” Death looked at me oddly. I realised that I’d said that out loud.
    “It’s hard to take in.” I swallowed.
    “I can’t imagine.” Death sighed.
    “Did they already have her funeral, then?” I asked.
    “Yes. She shared it with you. Her parents wanted that.” Death shrugged.
    “Why?” I asked again.
    “Because you just said it yourself, they thought of you as another kid.” I found myself holding back tears. This was my fault. If I hadn’t gone to that stupid party, both of us would still be alive. I could imagine Jane being carried to the front of a church in a Metallica coffin, everyone weeping for her and wishing they’d died instead. Then came my plain brown coffin after Jane, everyone would wonder who I was. The image was so vivid.
    “So I guess now I should be-” Death began. I didn’t hear him finish. I sprinted out of the door, hair flying from its ponytail. I didn’t know where I was running or why, but somehow I ended up in the reception area of wherever I was. I could hear Death shrieking my name, but I didn’t listen. I went to the woman behind the reception desk.
    “Where am I?” I asked. She continued to flick through some glossy magazine.
    “DON’T!” Death screamed.
    “WHERE AM I?” I shouted, reaching out to touch her shoulder.
    “NO!” Death tackled me to the ground. We both crashed into three plastic chairs, sending them flying. The receptionist jumped and looked at the chairs.
    “Mr. Keblowski?” She called out, running down a corridor.
    “You moron!” Death snapped.
    “What?” I asked, pushing him off of me.
    “You don’t touch the living, you don’t touch anything belonging to the living and you DO NOT run rampant in a building that specializes in taking care of the dead.” Death got louder after every word.
    “Oh, thanks for telling me that.” I spat.
    “You’re never going to leave earth at this rate.” Death sighed.
    “What do you mean ‘leave earth’?” I asked.
    “When you die, you have a limited time on earth to determine where you’ll end up. Some people stay here for years, others only stay for a few days and some...some never leave.”