Death is peaceful, an eternal slumber to cease whatever angst that had been bestowed upon us.

But it's all lies. And why the fuck am I talking like that?

They say when you die you're supposed to see a bright light, something otherworldly beautiful that's it's hard not to look away. This magical something is supposed to make the end of your life and the journey into your new soothing. I mean in The Ghost Whisperer I loved the endings, the pure contentment  adorning the characters face when it was time to depart.

But that's pure fiction, this isn't? How do you think we travel? Is it by a steam engine powered by Red Bull that gave it wings or does a blue bus fly in like in Fortnite with this big ass balloon attached? Yeah not likely, I mean what if the the energy drink runs out or the balloon bursts and you're stuck in God's know where. (Excuse the pun!)

Well nope, that didn't happen to me. There was no bright light or serenity, instead I suffered an agonising transition.

Yayy me.

Here is what I saw; my life flash before my eyes. Yep at least I wasn't jibbed in that department.

From here on in you can construct your own opinion on if my life was interesting or not all bundled up in seventeen years.

But before I continue, keep this at the back of your mind?

Who or what would you want to see in the moments of your death?

As I lay slain in the arms of my best friend Luxor and gasping for air, (don't worry more on that later, I promise) a slide show began to reel and I fought against it. I'd seen enough death movies to know this was the beginning of the end.

Come on brain, show them you're still here

I attempted to wriggle my fingers. But only my forefinger moved, and not enough for any response. I'd never been so alone despite being surrounded.

Mum, dad, I need you

One more hug. One more kiss. One more I love you. One more opportunity to experience one last touch.

Maybe if anybody knew I was alive they'd call an ambulance or some divine intervention would save me.

The fight for energy becomes too much and the reel starts up. Flickers of precious moments spent with my twin brother Adam was the first I had, and why shouldn't it, he was the other part of my soul. Growing up in an extremely strict religious household with a pastor as a father and a mother who was akin to a Stepford wife without the looks of Nicole Kidman, impurities and mischief was not allowed. And that included make-up and swearing. Fuck that for a joke I just did it on the sly. Stupid fuckin' rules.

Tell me dear reader what would you do in my situation? Sacrifice your identity or obey thy parent? If you chose the latter maybe it's best you stop reading because the shit I got up to pre and post death ain't for the faint hearted.

I mean if you want to delve deeper into it they named their children Adam and Eve, the original sinners. But c'mon God's creation of Adam and Eve we're together and by naming us that it's some kind of incestous. Don't you think? Ugh. I need a bucket! I really don't think they thought that one through.

Okay, the flashes I have to stop veering off track. What do you get when you mix a bored seven year old, a ladder and a roof? As you could probably already guess this joke didn't end well.

I would have to say the worst pain I've suffered is having my throat slashed which has lead me to this predicament. Unfortunately that wasn't the case, God or whoever was in charge of this decided nope you need to be shown pain you inflicted.

My mind was swooshed to a time to when Adam and I were seven and I convinced him, just like Eve convinced Adam to bite into the Apple the serpent told her to, that we should jump off the roof. Adam widened his chocolate brown eyes, which were identical to mine. His mouth stuck in an 'O' and he vehemently shook his head, his dead straight hair auburn hair swishing from side to side. My reasoning being we'd survive without even a scratch especially since we were of a holy age so it was now or never. I mean God would never let anything bad happen to us of all people.

Ohhh, how young and naive I was. Anyway I'll carry on.

Adam was easily swayed, the complete opposite of me who'd challenge any authority or hold my ground. He was the good child, the shining apple of my parents eyes who always listened and was eager to please. But I outranked them.

So one gloomy Wednesday afternoon while my parentals were at a funeral their dear children were about to attempt something that if it turned out wrong they'd be the next caskets they see.

Opening up the double garage which was attached to the side of the house, we worked as a team and carried out the larger than life ladder. Boy was it heavy. Even to this day I could still feel the heaviness of the pine and the way my fingers turned red from the pressure of gripping it so hard.

We positioned it on a slight angle against the house and up we went. Adam was first because I told him I'll always have his back, until we reached the roof. My spindly frame used all of my energy to raise above especially since I guarded Adam with one arm and my knobby knees knocked against the rungs.

Sitting atop the roof for the first time, I held Adams' quivering hands as we viewed the bright lights from town. It had an eerily beautiful component to it, the way the bronzed tower stood tall and proud, it's presence unrivaled especially when it boomed. It was totally worth it, and for a short while Adam relaxed. The thrill quickly waned and it started to spit, minuscule droplets plopping on our heads and Adam started to whine as if it was bucketing down.

When the town clock boomed seven times we knew it was time to leave. Helping Adam up I clasped his hand and took two steps when I was yanked back. A deep shrill expelled through my mouth at the vision of Adam sliding down the roof, the tiles flipping upwards as he plummeted down the front of the house and tumbled to the ground.

He ended up with fifteen stitches in his skull, a broken leg and required a pin in his arm to keep it together. If I didn't feel guilty enough he took the rap.

The image haunted me for so long that my parents were resorted to slipping phernergan into my milk at night to knock me out and to stop the nightmares. You'd think that would be a great solution but not only did they not read the section where it said not to give to asthmatics, but I'd be throwing up in my sleep.

Yep, they wouldn't ever be earning a parents of the year medal.

The kicker to all this was every time I looked at milkshakes I'd experience the taste in my mouth.

Have you ever done something as stupid as that?

Surely not.

But if you had I would have loved to know. Maybe I should have constructed an Instagram page called "Dumb ways to die...or to kill others." I wonder how many followers I'd get and the extremes I'd go to to get cute red hearts and comments on my pics?

There was a micro second of blackness and when the snapshot continued I'd realised it had jumped. There were no flashes of first loves, let alone a first kiss. I substituted and shown affection to food. And it showed. But I smiled, joked and pretended vile words from my arch enemy Scarlett didn't strike me down and stab me deep. Oooh that's another way to die...death by food. You could say I left this world a virgin in all sense of the word. Except if you include my filthy mind and mouth then nope I'm a prostitute in that department.

A flash went off and blinded me again and this time showed me my many stages of menstrual cramps since I was eleven. Like what the hell? Why did I needed to be shown this out of everything? Or maybe it continues to point out that from then on in I turned from scrawny to curvy with extra junk in my trunk.

The montage darkened again and when I thought it was over and ready to go to the next stage I was thrown through a loop, both proverbially and literally.

Flash.

Adam dead. His lifeless body lain on the asphalt as a party raged out of control. And it was all my fault. If only I didn't rebel. If only I didn't sneak out to go to my friend Jakes party. If only I didn't get drunk. Then the ending wouldn't have been grim. I wouldn't have had to call Adam up to pick me up and he wouldn't have been struck by a car doing burn outs and lost control.

Can you see why the white light wasn't bright and willing to come to me? Because my friends, (call I call you that?) it's because I'm not worthy of being forgiven. Even if I was how's this for the final nail in the coffin?

My best friend, a part of the reason why I had my throat of so eloquently slashed and caused my demise is, wait for it. Are you ready? You'll never believe it in a trillion years.

LUCIFERS DAUGHTER!!

Boom!!

Like what in the holy fuck is this bullshit? Call that dumb, bad luck.

All our memories and laughs were tainted, and all I could see were her and everybody elses' lies. Now the trouble we landed ourselves in would become stories told for remembrance.

All of these flashes lasted thirteen seconds, and then I died, very fitting I'd say. Maybe time slowed down or there's no concept of time but all I know for certain is once the montage stopped there was no reprieve for what was about to come.

My soul painfully detached from my body as if each stitch had been severed by a carving knife. As I arose and hovered above myself I was able to glimpse at the mayhem. I wanted to watch, to make my presence known and tell them to stop but before I could move a step I was sucked backwards towards a darkened tunnel.

The door silently closed after me but it might as well been slammed as the dangerous journey had begun.