The last memory I recall from my mortal life was the Phantom of the Opera moment. I felt like Christine in that moment because I was doing my job, speaking to the crowd. Suddenly, everything went black and I could feel my heart racing and hear my breath. As soon as I knew it, that happened. Bright lights, an ear-splitting bang!, my body flying off stage...it only happened within a matter of seconds.

Then I died. As I lost consciousness, I thought of everyone I'd leave behind. I thought of my beloved Parisa Pack who have supported me so lovingly over the past few years. Besides my family, they have been my rock. They stuck behind me after Eurovision and made my dream come true. Without them, I'd be literally nothing. Without them, I'd just be another singer from Youtube finding my voice.

After that, it was my parents and Giovanna. They mean the absolute world to me, and I can't imagine how this is currently impacting them. My parents gambled when they supported my decision to chase a dream that strikes gold with very few dreamers. And Gi became my fairy god sister by making it happen! Giovanna is—was the older sister I never had. It's all thanks to their support that my dream became a reality.

The last person who flashed before my eyes was Kristian. We were only officially together for a few days, but I was fortunate enough to really know him for months thanks to Eurovision. He's such a dork majority of the time, but he's a kindred spirit with the voice of an angel and radiates enough light to brighten an entire town. Okay, bonus points for being tall and attractive too. I can't argue with that. But there's more to Kristian Kostov than meets the eye.

I had a feeling something would happen, which is why I gave him my ring. I knew deep down those messages were a forewarning. Things like that just don't happen to people on a whim! As my way of saying good bye, as my departure from the relationship we were starting to build, I knew I had to bestow something with sentimental value to prove how much I care about him.

Our connection is Eurovision. Without that show, I wouldn't know who he is and he'd basically be another fan boy. That competition brought us together, and that ring is now a symbol of that union. Green, white, and red don't have to stand for Italy—it can stand for Bulgaria too.

It hurt to see our last moments one last time because I knew that'd mean leaving him forever as I depart from the mortal world. I'll never see those stunning nut brown eyes lovingly gaze at me or run my fingers through his product-enhanced jet black locks. I'll never see his beautiful smile or joke around with him because I'm no longer alive. What's worse, I'll never hear him sing or say "I love you" ever again.

When my connection from Earth dropped, I thought all those memories would instantly disappear. If I'm no longer living, why should those memories stay with me? Surely they'll disappear the moment my soul departs from my corpse. That's what I thought. My departure from Earth should mean a clean slate, but it's not.

The moment I woke up in wherever I am, I realized my thoughts and memories didn't separate from my soul. My brain thinks about heading to Spain next. It counts down the days until I'm in Moscow and back in Kristian's arms. On the other hand, my body—whatever this is, knows I'll never make it. This spirit form of me knows it's impossible to fulfill everything I want to accomplish. I'M FUCKING DEAD! Of course I can't live my life now.

I didn't expect to die however long ago that was. I can't even measure time! All I know is that I'm somewhere whiter than the top 1% running the American government. Everywhere I look, all I see is blinding whiteness that infinitesimally expands in every direction. North, South, East, West—the entire compass. All I see is the bleachest of whites surrounding me.

It's hard to say where I am now because my surroundings consist of an empty canvas yet to be touched by a drop of paint. But if I'm dead—no, I'm definitely dead since I didn't wake up in a hospital bed—then this must be the Afterlife or some form of it. Maybe this is an intermediate space for those who have just departed from Earth. Or Heaven and Hell simply don't exist and what we've learned is all a lie to make death less appealing.

It's useless to stay in one place, so I start walking straight ahead and ponder.

Maybe our souls wander through an endless vacuum once they heave our bodies and that's it. Anubis can't weight my heart against a feather, and there isn't a golden gate to ward sinners out of Heaven in this Afterlife. It's impossible to measure the life someone lived. It's all myth!

I travel for an indefinite amount of time. This is like a walk of shame to wherever I'm meant to be. The only difference is I don't look like I had sex last night thanks to my pristine white skater dress and flawlessly smooth hair.

I walk on. And walk. And walk. And walk. I should have blisters on my feet or something to exhibit the distance I've walked. But there isn't an ounce of pain in those muscles and bones. My feet are perfectly fine; I could walk five thousand miles if I want!

To pass the lack of time and push my thoughts away, I hum Black Eyed Peas' "Where is the Love?" The song embodies the ongoing suffering of humanity, which is why it's one of my faves. War is inevitable and will always exist so long as humans prosper. That's a fact.

Shouldn't you be tired by now? I wonder as I continue walking. What if time travels faster when you're dead? What if it's been hours or days since you died, Parisa? God, imagine not seeing your parents, Giovanna, and Kristian for days on end!

Yet I'm not exhausted. I'm not breathless or wheezing either. You can't exactly "run out of breath" if you're no longer breathing.

A yellow-colored road suddenly pops into view. Finally, some color! Cautiously, I approach it and scope out my surroundings. It doesn't look like an illusion, but I can't base my opinion on sight alone. I bend down and touch the yellow brick road before setting foot on it. Yup. That's a real brick road and it feels like it's been sitting in sunlight.

Too bad Oz is a fictional city. I'd love to ask the Wizard for an enchanted mirror or crystal ball to see my nearest and dearest, but my dead heart would shatter to smithereens at the sight of them, especially Kristian. Maybe this road will lead me to a similar city and someone there can advise me on how to cope.

"That's ridiculous," I scoff. "There's no such thing as therapy in the Afterlife. Who would need it? There ARE no problems here! There's no politics, religion, expectations, or any other destructive catalyst."

The road seems to be my best bet for an explanation, so I set my other foot onto it to commence walking. I never expected the road to automatically move like a conveyor belt once both fit were firmly set, but I shouldn't be shocked by its deceptive ways. I'm just gonna sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride.

"No. NOOOOO! DON'T DO THIS TO ME!" I cry once music begins playing—the intro to "Beautiful Mess."

Hearing Kristian's soulful, angelic voice sing about a world in crisis and how love can conquer any obstacle is unbearable. I attempt to block the music by covering my ears, but it's too loud. The song is playing in surround sound, making it impossible to un-hear. I thought I left him when my soul departed from mortality. Yeah, I thought wrong!

"Beautiful Mess" plays again. And again. And again. And again. Either the song is purposefully playing on loop to mock me or God's play list is glitching. Regardless, this is so not the best way to announce my arrival into the Afterlife.

On the bright side, I can measure time as the yellow belt cruises me past more whiteness. Six time played time three-ish minutes equals eighteen minutes. I've been sitting through this audio torture for eighteen damn minutes! WHAT DID I DO TO DESRVE THIS?

By the twelfth listen (kill me again. Nearly forty minutes now!), my deadbeat heart sinks and I can no longer endure the pain. This is too much for me to handle. I may be dead, but my soul is grieving for what I left behind. I break down into tears as I think about the guy behind the voice.

It's gut-wrenching to think you can build a friendship with someone over the course of a few months, only to have that blossoming relationship snatched away from you in a millisecond, never to see it prosper. God—Allah—Whoever is controlling the universe decided to cut ours short when we were just in our fetus stage. It's so not fair to Kristian that this happened! He doesn't deserve to have someone he cares for taken away like that. And I don't think I deserved to die.

"At least he has your ring, Parisa," I remind myself as I wipe away tears. "Kristian has something tangible to commemorate you, and he'll always have that. He knows he has your heart too. He has it for far longer than forever. But he's alive and you're dead; he'll obviously have another girlfriend while you continue to pine over him. Even though he'll be with someone else in no time, he can't completely forget you.

"But the next girl will probably be prettier, smarter, and more talented than you. He was too good to be true, anyways. Kristian needs someone who's positive and doesn't easily get jealous like you. Watch him have a new girlfriend the week after your death day, Parisa. He can get any girl he wants now and she'll be so much better than you."

I lower my head and sigh deeply. "Beautiful Mess" is still on. I've lost count of how many times it's played, but I think it's greater than thirty. So much for going to Heaven if Kristian's song has to haunt my soul! Maybe this yellow brick road is leading me to Hell and I'm now realiz—

Tall, golden gates are now visible, as well as light blue in the sky behind it and what appears to be white, fluffy clouds. A multitude of colors appear the closer I am to the gate. Oh my God. Is this the gates of Heaven? Am I being tortured now as a perquisite to entering Heaven? Cosa sta succedendo? (What's happening?)

The road abruptly halts a foot away from the entrance. It throws me off, catapulting my body towards the gate with a force so powerful, I crash into the metal headfirst.

"OW!" I yell as I rub my forehead and gaze up at the gate. "You couldn't have been made of clouds, could you?"

"It's the best gold you can find," mentions an angelic voice with some accent I can't place. I'm sure it's Israeli, but I'm not certain. "Trust me, Parisa Nicchi. Nothing can break through this gate; it's indestructible."

A clear look through the gates, and I see a beautiful curly-haired brunette who thankfully looks around my height. Maybe I won't have to worry about being short now that I'm dead.

"Y-you know who I am?" I wonder as I rise.

"You're a major celebrity! Of course everyone knows who you are!"

Right. I'm famous. Apparently celebrity status doesn't disappear when you depart from the living. That explains why Kristian's song was played on loop during my journey. They knew we were together and wanted to mess with me!

"I'm Erela," she introduces herself, holding out a hand through the gates. "Viktor sent me to fetch you. He's expecting you inside the hospital."

"H-hospital?" I skeptically question as I shake Erela's hand. "What hospital? There are hospitals in the Afterlife?"

She shrugs her shoulders. Ironic how I dismissed the idea of any sort of help when there's apparently a hospital behind those gates.

Erela presses a button on the gate and it opens. Frankly, I don't know if I want to leave. I was perfectly fine wallowing in the loss of my loved ones. For all I know, this could be a trap and whoever this Viktor guy is only sent Erela because she's bubbly and approachable.

"Sorry about Kristian's song," she sincerely apologizes, looking me sorrowfully in the eye. "I told Viktor not to play it on loop, but he thought it'd be hilarious to mess with you like that. I told him it was too soon, but he can be an asshole at times."

"Boys," I sigh, rolling my eyes and running a hand through my hair. "It's their job to be jerks. My cousin, Francesco, is one of the biggest jerks I know, but he's alright."

Erela laughs like bells chiming during a cool breeze. Her hazel eyes enviously regard me for a split second, then looks away.

"So uh, why am I being admitted to this hospital?" I question. "Nothing's wrong with me. I—"

"You're traumatized by your death, aren't you? You didn't exactly die naturally, Parisa."

"I-I suppose I am. It is shaking me, bu—"

"Your soul needs to heal. If it doesn't, you'll be a wanderlust forever. You'll never rest in peace if you don't get help. You'll stay at the hospital for as long as you need help, and Vikt—"

"What you're saying is I need therapy...for my soul?" I ask for clarification.

Erela nods and holds out her hand. I guess there's no use in fighting it. If my mortal issues are preventing me from resting in peace, I might as well seek help. Erela seems lovely enough. Maybe Viktor isn't so bad either.

Defeated, I take Erela's hand. She pulls me away from the gate and leads me through a gorgeous cobblestone path lined with a host of flora, creating one of the most beautiful trails I've ever seen. The only upset is that it reminds me of Bois de Vincess. Eerily enough, it resembles the parc to perfection.

The path leads to a stunning Gothic castle that impressively looks like a carbon copy of Castel del Monte, a 13th Century castle in southwestern Italy. Erela doesn't hesitate to open the tall wooden door. She also doesn't immediately enter the hospital castle. She steps a foot in, then turns to me.

"Don't freak out when you meet Viktor," she cautiously warns.

I squint at her, befuddled. "Why?"

"Just take my word, Parisa. You'll understand when you see him."

Without another word, she grabs my hand and leads me inside.

A/N:

If some of what you read looked familiar, that's because this is a modified/expanded version of the sneak excerpt at the beginning of the story.

Thank you guys so much for giving this a read. We are at 800 reads now. HOLY SMOKES!! I just want to give a special shoutout to fluuoride for being the most supportive human being to me right now. Seriously, she's amazing and I'm so lucky to have her as my honorary little sister. And her story is pretty ace too.

Thoughts? Predictions?

I will be doing more chapters in Kris' POV. I think that will give the story a cool life vs. death dynamic to this section.