My eyes shudder open slowly, adjusting to the calm light of the room. I am laying in my bed, tucked in comfortably beneath the covers. I take a deep breath, allowing the perfect-temperature air to float into my lungs. The walls look milky in the hopeful light.

My vision is still fuzzy with sleep. Rubbing it away, I roll over and snuggle into the blankets further. The room is so peaceful that it's almost dreamlike.

"Dani? Are you awake?" Vaggie whispers from behind me. I turn back over to see her laying in the other bed, her smooth, grayish face watching me with a tired gaze.

I smile at her. "Yes," I reply. This moment, with the reddish sunlight leaking in through the window, the covers protecting me from the scary things outside, Vaggie near by, keeping me company, is the moment that I want to stay in until I wake up from this terrible nightmare called death.

"How are you?" she questions me.

I rub my legs together like a cricket under the blanket. "I should be asking you that. You were the one who was stabbed in the gut."

"You were stabbed too."

"It's not the same."

Vaggie rolls her eyes. "Answer me. How is your arm?"

I become conscious of the bandages on my arm. The medics gave me a new wrap yesterday when I burst into Vaggie's session. They also kindly gave me a fresh white tee shirt to cover myself with. "It's okay. Hurts when I move it. Plus, my whole body's kind of sore."

She nods. "And how are you?"

I direct a face of confusion at her. "I just answered that."

"No, I mean you you. Like, how are you coping? With all of this?"

I shrug, but it hurts my arm, causing me to cringe. Vaggie watches me silently, almost as if she's reading my mind.

In reality, I'm not coping well. It feels like the sad, gaping hole that formed in my chest when I first awoke in Hell has been filled with anger and fear. I don't feel like the nice, silly, talkative girl that I used to be. Renewed. That's how I feel. Like I was put through a machine that took my whole body apart, then put it back together in all sorts of funky ways.

I can't stop thinking about the look on the exterminator's face after it threw the spear at me. About the dead bodies littered around the street, about the feeling of Alastor's smooth gloves caressing my skin. About the way Vaggie lurched forward after the spear hit her gut, or about the way she looked at me, sweaty and helpless and tired when I pulled it out of her. I can't stop thinking about the words Angel told me: You'll get used to it soon. I was wondering when you'd get the insanity. And the way I felt when the second exterminator approached me. Sad, alone, and ready to give up.

Yep. I'm not coping very well.

"How are you?" I ask Vaggie. "Physically and mentally."

Vaggie sighs loudly and looks at the ceiling. I follow her gaze, brushing a bit of hair out of my eyes. "Physically, not great. I can barely move without wanting to cry. Plus, I have to use that damned wheelchair." It's true. She was given a creaky black and grey wheelchair in the medical office and was told to use it at all times. Wheelchairs are for handicapped people, so I guess she just feels bad about using one. "Mentally, I feel the same as usual. Dead inside."

I blink. "Do you remember when you took me to that club to get me that black dress?"

"Yes," Vaggie says.

"I told you that you looked pretty. You told me that you were talking to someone."

She doesn't say anything.

"Who were you talking to?"

She clears her throat. "Nobody."

"So you lied about seeing someone so that I wouldn't try to hit on you?" I ask. At the time, I hadn't meant anything by the compliment. Only that she looked good in that white and grey dress of hers. I wasn't trying to make a move on her. I didn't feel the same about her then as I feel about her now.

Again, she doesn't say anything. I rub my temples with my fingers to sooth the headache that I feel coming on.

"Do you still have that dress?" she asks, changing the subject.

I do have it, folded in the bathroom. Right next to the towels. "Yeah." It's my only dress. The only other clothes I have are the white hospital shirt and the slutty fishnet leggings that I'm wearing now.

"What about the clothes you died in?" she asks.

Those clothes are the only part of my past that I still have with me. They are in the cabinet, underneath the sink. I haven't gotten around to washing them yet. I should probably do that today. "In the bathroom," I say. "Are there washers and dryers in this place?"

"Yes, on the main floor. I'll show you today."

Silence falls over the room, and I let it. All of the quiet that I can get is precious.

"You know, the outfit I wore when I was stabbed was the one that I died in."

"Oh," I say quietly.

The silence comes back.

Later, after taking a shower, I load my old clothes and some towels into a bag and take them downstairs with Vaggie. I have to carry her into the wheelchair and push her to the elevator, but I don't mind much. She guides me to the washing machine and waits for me to put my things in. I even wash my Converse. I would love to have some comfortable shoes instead of the one pair of high heels that I have.

Together, Vaggie and I go to the medical room to get our bandages changed. Vaggie's mood turns sour when we walk in, and I can only guess why. I hate this room too; it's still so foreign and scary to me.

Charlie meets us just as I'm pushing Vaggie out of the medical room. She brought two bagels and two bottles of water for us. I scarf my bagel down in a mere two minutes, then chug all of the water in the bottle to wash it down. After eating, I burp loudly, feeling my stomach churn. I hope my breakfast doesn't come back up to say hello.

"How are you guys?" Charlie asks. She looks more tired than usual. There are purple bags under her eyes, and they stand out strong against her light skin. She must not have any makeup on. Her hair is tousled, and her red pant-suit is crinkled.

"Not very great," I say with a sigh. Vaggie nods with agreement.

"That's to be expected," Charlie says. "I could use a good 24 hours of sleep right now. I spent the whole night helping people clean up bodies and stuff and getting the hotel prepped for today. I want to start fresh."

Vaggie blinks, unfazed. "Good idea. Hey, we're going to go get a drink at Greater's. Come with us, Charlie." Greater's must be the name of a bar, because I've never heard of it before. Vaggie also implied that I was already planning on going with her to Greater's.

I wasn't.

Charlie gives me a look, then says, "In a moment. You can go ahead, I have to talk to Dani alone for a second."

As Vaggie unenthusiastically wheels herself away, Charlie clears her throat and folds her hands in front of her. "So, you're supposed to be starting your counseling job today. Are you ready, or do you need a little bit more time to... adjust?"

I shake my head. More time before starting would be lovely, but I know how eager Charlie is to keep this hotel up and running. "I can start today, no problem."

"Okay, great. I'll show you your office real quick. Come this way," she says, walking down the same hallway that holds her office, right behind the elevators.

She stops before a big door (just like all of the other doors in this place, tall and made of dark oak with a gold knob) and gestures towards it. "This is your new office, Mrs. Johnson," she says. I look at her, feeling excited, nervous, and unsure, all at the same time. "Go ahead, open it."

So I do. The first thing I notice are the walls. They are not like the other walls. Instead, they have been painted a plain, pale sage color. The room is medium in size, but there is lots of furniture to fill the space. There is a glass desk centered in the back of the room with is a little lamp on top. There are two lemon yellow chairs sitting just in front of it, waiting patiently for someone to come and sit on them. In the back right corner is a leafless tree, its branches reaching eerily out in all directions. To the left is a brown table with a fishtank on top. Beside the table is a large mirror. There are no paintings on the walls, but the ceiling has a simple fan with a color that matches the table. Connected to the fan is a bright light that illuminates the whole room.

"Wow," I breathe, examining every inch of the room. "It's gorgeous in here."

"Thank you! I designed it myself," Charlie chirps proudly.

I saunter in, my heels clicking with every step. The floor is dark brown hardwood. I find myself looking in the mirror, staring at myself. My light brown hair looks longer than usual, and it's still messy from last night. My eyes are still grey and big and familiar, and my small lips are just as red as they always are. When I turn away, I walk to the twirly white chair behind the desk and take a seat, feeling right at home in the room.

Then I see it. Right on the desk, cold and silver. I pick it up with two hands and turn it over. The glass glimmers in the pale light. A brand new iPhone.

"Awh, Charlie," I say, looking up at her with a grin. "Thank you! This is so nice!" Then I stand, walk back over to the doorway, and give her a big hug.

"Oh, it was no problem," she says, returning the hug. "I thought you might want one since, you know, your old one didn't come with you to Hell. I already put Vaggie, Angel Dust, Husk, Niffty and I in your phone as contacts. I didn't know if you would want anyone else in there, so I just left it for you to decide."

For a brief moment, Alastor's name flashes across my mind. Maybe I should have his contact. Then I remember that I hate him and can't forgive him for what he did. If he were here right now, he would say something like, "Of course you can forgive me, my love. Do you remember when I found you in those woods and brought you back to the hotel? You were so scared. I could smell the fear wafting off of you. And I saved you. Do you remember that?"

"No, that's enough people. Thanks again, this was really kind of you."

Charlie smiles. "It's what I do," she says. "Now let's go find Vaggie and get some drinks!"

Slipping my new phone into the waistband of my tights, I follow Charlie out, ready to drink my thoughts away.