A ghost in a cage

There was nothing.

No light. No sound. No feeling.

Nothing too unusual, considering that I already died and that experiencing such things already a privilege is.

But the strange thing was, that I wasn't dead again. It wasn't the nothingness I was already used to. I was still there. Still with the living, even if I wasn't one of them.

There.

There was something. A ick in my nose, a feeling. I smelled something. Disinfection spray.

Ok, that's really weird. There is nothing to smell in the realm of death. There is nothing at all in the realm of death, after all, that's kind of the whole point.

So where was I?

Voices. I heard voices, but I ignored them. I didn't wanted to hear what they said. Ignoring the voices was part of my daily business.

As I opened my eyes, I noticed that nothing changed. Where ever I was, there was nothing to see. Just white lights.

I tried to remember what happened that day. Waking up at 4 am (tortured by nightmares. Again). Eating a apple for breakfast. Going to school with Ajal at 7:30. English. Math. Break, where I watched Ajal reading his books. Biology. History. End of school day. Ajal went to his paranormal club and I-

Yeah, what did I do?

I went home. On my home I saw Tobias, Sofie and Abad. Near the old willow I heard the sound of a truck. There was definitely a truck. A yellow one, that triggered me.

It took away my breath, even if I didn't even needed to breath. My body started to go numb, my sight went blank. I had a panic attack.

And now I'm here.

"1969!"

I shivered. 1969. The year I should've turn 18. The year I met Anthony. The year Idied.

But it wasn't a year it was...it was just a number.

"1969!"

Thousand nine hundred sixty nine. It wasn't a year. It was a number. Just a normal number. Every number is normal.

"1969!"

"Yeah?", I finally answered cautiously. After all, I still couldn't see or feel anything.

There came no response.

I sat down. Or at least I think I did. It's hard to tell when you neither see not feel the ground.

Minutes, maybe hours passed. I didn't know. Time is relative (especially if you're dead).

"1969?"

It was the voice again.

"Yeah?"

"Could you...stop doing that?"

"Stop doing what?"

I didn't do anything! I just sit. Or stand. Or float.

...Ok, maybe I didn't knew WHAT exactly I was doing, but did that really matter?

Silence. The voice stopped talking, so I thought it stopped. But like my father always said: Don't think that much, Charlotte, it isn't productive for little girls like you.

"Let us see you again."

See you again, I thought. It gave me head aches. I said it. I said it in 1969 and I lied. I lied, lied, lied.

"I don't see anything", I responded instead.

"You can change that."

"How?", I screamed, not knowing if I'm sitting, standing or floating. "How? There is nothing! Nothing, I'll tell ya! I already looked and looked but there is still nothing!"

A breeze. Wind. Was that wind? I don't know. I had no clue. There is no wind in the realm of death. My heart felt like shrinking and the only thing I wanted at this moment was to die again.

(I didn't really wanted it. I didn't liked dying. No one did, I guess. But sometimes you say foolish things when you're desperate.)

"Can't you...can't you open your eyes?"

I breathed. The last time felt like ages ago. It probably was.

"I-I don't know."

Silence.

"But can you...try it?"

Breath. Breath. Breath.

I opened one eye, like I would after sleeping for a long time. There was nothing. Just this noisy white light, that went straight through my head, giving me nightmares and panic attacks.

Then I opened the other one, hoping for a different result. But disappointment is my daily business, it's in my blood and it was my bread throughout my life (and my death). Bright light, nothing else.

A bright white room, nothing else to see. It was exactly the same I saw as when my eyes were still closed. But just the fact that it was a room, a room in the physical world, made it so different then the whole realm of death.

It comforted me a bit in this very stressful situation. But good moments, can't last of course.

I looked down at me. I wore the dress, the yellow one, my death dress. I hated it. I still do.

"Where are you?", I asked. "I can't see you."

Desperation was heard in my voice or at least I heard it. Loneliness, this feeling of there being no one even hunted me as a living.

I didn't even knew if there was anyone. If it wasn't just a voice in my head, a imagination to calm me down. I just hoped, I wanted someone to be there.

No sound. No one said anything. Imagination, is it then. Sadly.

I looked down at my hands. They were white like a corpse, except my finger tips, that were yellow like the pills.

I hat to fight the urge to vomit. It was disgusting. I was disgusting, because I knew what these hands did. What the did to me. What they did for me.

They should've been punished. Torn apart from my body, I would've love to be the ones to punish them.

I tiped my right hand against my left one. It was cold. Like I was dead. What I am.

Just another cruel reminder from this world. No matter how much I want, no matter how much I pretend, I stay that way. I stay dead.

A crack started again from above me. Maybe...maybe I wasn't alone. Maybe there was someone, someone I could talk to.

"I'm not in the room with you. I'm Dr. Shelton and I would like to ask you some questions."