One foot in front of the other. Step after step after step.

My mind feels blank. I don't feel sad or angry. Just flat, like a vast, empty field. I'm pretty sure this is what being in shock feels like.

I never gave much thought to the idea of death, but I would never have guessed this.

Charlie gave me a two-night stay in her hotel. She said, and I quote, I feel terrible for you. Stay here for two nights, it's on the house. Like I have anywhere else to go. She also told me that if I ever want to stay with her permanently - which sounds like an intriguing offer - I would only have to become a member of the hotel crew. She could put an interview together with her and a friend she called Angel Dust. I told her I would think about it. She asked me if I needed her to walk me to my room, I said yes.

"This is it," she says, stopping in front of a large, wooden door numbered 328. I stare at the door, then glance at the shimmering, silver knob. An image of my silver car handle flickers through my mind. I blink the thought away and look back at Charlie for a distraction.

"Thank you so much. It honestly means a lot," I say, offering a genuine smile.

Charlie nods. "Anytime." She hands me the room key, then stands there with her arms folded together behind her back. After a moment, I realize that she is waiting for me to go inside. I slide the key card into the lock slot and wait for a clicking sound.

Surprisingly, the walls are deep tan rather than dark red, like most of the walls in the building. The carpet looks like it could hide a murder perfectly: it's such a bloody red it actually scares me. I turn and wave Charlie goodbye before closing the door behind me. Leaning against the door, I let out a huge sigh. It's been a long day.

I look around the room, fully examining every corner. There is a granite countertop to my left with a dark grey sink installed in the center. Just next to the counter is a black refrigerator, and above that, cabinets the same dark oak color as the door. Across from the small kitchen area is another door that leads to a white, tiled bathroom. Back in the main room, small round lights line the ceiling, trailing down the room until they hit the far back wall, which has a large, square window. I'm too scared to look out of the window, so I grab the two burgundy curtains on either side of the glass and slide them shut. To the right of the window are two full sized beds with pink and black comforters, white pillows, and large, dark headstands. Hanging on the wall across from the two beds is a fresh-looking TV.

Without another thought, I flop down face first on the bed closest to the window. It bounces back underneath my body, but it settles after a few seconds. I bury my face in the pillows and hope that I suffocate, die, and wake up from this horrible dream, back on Earth with my mom and pop and little sister. Thinking about mom and pop sends me into a spiraling sadness. To them, I am missing. When my car crashed, I had been on my way home from my friend Natalie's house to eat dinner with them. Oh, how shattered they will be to find out I had died in a car accident.

ᯬ

An hour later, I sit up. The blankets are crumpled in a heaping mess over me, and both of the pillows are tear-soaked and covered in smears of wet mascara. I head to the bathroom to wipe my eyes, tie my hair up in a ponytail with a small rubber band sitting on the counter, fix my shirt, and barely gulp down a lukewarm glass of sink water. After staring at myself for another few minutes, I decide that it will be a good idea to explore the hotel and see if I can find a way to get money, clothes, food, anything. I need stuff, and looking for stuff will take my mind off of the recent events.

Grabbing my room key and shoving it in my pocket, I walk into the dim hallway outside of my room and look both ways before turning to the left, the way to the elevator. After taking three small steps, I get the feeling that I'm being watched, like someone is standing right beside me.

Feeling self-conscious, I turn around, but nobody is there. My heart begins to race inside of my ribs, each beat pounding my bones and causing a vibration to run down my spine, but I have grown used to the feeling. I bite my lip and take a quick breath, standing still for a few seconds before continuing on my way to the elevator. When I get there, I press the small arrow pointing downwards, hearing it ding and glow with a small yellow light. Waiting for the elevator to arrive, the eerie feeling comes back to me. I'm about to look down the hallway when someone's voice nearly scares me out of my skin.

"Hello my love," he drawls slowly from behind me, like he is trying to give me a heart attack. I scream with fear, whirling around to see the tall man who spoke so deeply.

"Who are you?" I ask, trying to regain my bearings.

"Alastor," he says smoothly. I can't really think of another way to describe his voice except smooth. It just sounds like melted chocolate, if that makes any sense. He is tall and thin, with big red hair, hinted with bits of black. His skin is pale pink, his eyes lunatic red, and his teeth are sharp and golden, pulled into an ear to ear smile. He appears far less friendly than Charlie. Snickering, he looks down at me imperiously. The threatening smile is still toying his face; he obviously enjoys seeing that he frightened me out of my wits. I take note of how strangely handsome he is. He holds his shoulders high, arms held in a sophisticated way behind his back. Confident, yet stilted. He's dressed in a striped red jacket that flares out at the hips, black pants, and, of course, a black bow tie. I also notice what looks like a crooked, black antler on the top of his head.

"Alastor?" The name is ringing a bell. It comes to me - he's the creepy guy who found me in the woods. Charlie explained this to me. Alastor smelled my life.

"That would be me," he says, leaning forward slightly. His eyes seem to glow with evil.

I clench my fists together, willing myself to maintain my posture. "Well, thanks, I guess."

"For what?" he inquires, his smile broadening as his eyes narrow with curiosity.

I clear my throat, more unsettled with someone's existence than I have ever been. "Finding me. In the woods. After I died."

He laughs under his breath. "You're not the only one I found," he says. I think he's insane.

The elevator dings again and the rustic metal door creaks open from behind me. Without another word, I walk inside. Alastor follows me inside.

"You're very pretty," he says, still as a statue, his smile - which has now become more seductive - shifting only for his words. "A very gorgeous, innocent being."

I feel my heart race even faster (which I didn't think was possible, given the fact that I have enough oxygen in my veins to run a marathon in under a minute) and nearly scream, but I hold it in. The madman is trying to hit on me. "Thank you," I say, my voice wavering slightly. "For the compliment."

He chuckles deeply. I look at my feet, noticing again that my converse are completely ruined. Dirt is covering every square inch, the laces have been torn, and there are tears running along the sides and the backs of the shoes. My pants are also a mess. They used to be my favorite pair of dark-wash jeans, but based on the number of new rips and dirt stains, I will need to find a new pair. I don't even glance at my shirt, I already know it's way worse than the shoes and the jeans combined. Good God, I need some new clothes.

"How did you die?" Alastor asks me brusquely. At first, I think it's a very personal question, and the fact that he's asking makes me angry. But before I can reply hotly, I realize that it really isn't a personal question. Obviously, everyone in Hell has died, or else they wouldn't be in Hell. Plus, I no longer have the liberty of saying what college do you plan on going to next year? as an icebreaker, so using how did you die? to start my new conversations might not be a bad thing. I'm just not used to the way things work down here.

"I, uh, crashed my car and fell off the edge of a cliff," I say. It takes a great deal of effort to say this, for the words feel sticky in my throat, choking me on the way out as if they don't want to be said. A feeling of closure rushes over me after the sentence is said, and I know that the shock is wearing off. Tears would be rushing to my eyes if I hadn't already cried for an hour.

I pinch the bridge of my nose with my fingers and rub small circles into the bone beneath my skin. This is an awfully long elevator.

"Oh, fun."

"How did you die?"

Alastor pauses. For a long time. Right as I decide he's just going to ignore my question, he says, "I was shot by a deer hunter."

"Woah," I say, real shock in my voice. "Really?"

"Yes," he says, but before he can continue, the elevator door opens. We walk out to the lobby together. "I was just pleasantly minding my own business, and bam, a shotgun went off and I was dead before I knew what hit me."

"Why did the deer hunter kill you? Was he a murderer too?"

"Well, yes. But he was just hunting. I can't blame him."

"Hunting for humans?" I frown, my footsteps slowing down.

He laughs again, that deep, throaty laugh that begins in his chest and rises like low-pitched helium. It makes me uncomfortable, in a pleasant way, which is very strange to me. "No, silly. For deer."

I stare at my moving feet with disbelief. "I'm so confused. Help me out here," I demand softly.

"I was a deer."

"You were a deer."

"Yes, and I still am."

"Still are?"

"Yes." His eyes seem to be glowing brighter and crazier than before.

I stop to stare at him.

Suddenly, right there in the middle of the lobby, in front of passing demons and between couches and decorations, he becomes a deer. In a split second. One moment, human, the next, a deer. His smile remains painted over his face, but his arms and legs are slick with black fur, his hair becomes his ears. A few people stop and look, but he only remains as a deer for a few seconds. He is back to normal before I can even begin to process anything.

I look at him, then at the space beyond him, then at a stout, pale woman standing a few yards away. She is eyeing Alastor up, clearly impressed. When I focus on Alastor again, he is already four steps closer. "I am a shapeshifter, my love," he says.

"Oh my dear Lord you're a shapeshifter," I whisper, gazing up at him. Words are not coming to my mouth, so I stand in appalled silence.

Alastor raises a bony hand and brushes a part of my hair back that has fallen out of my ponytail from out of my eyes. I cringe but don't pull away. "I could hurt you so good," he says quietly, his eyes glowing, his smile deepening. At that, I do pull away. He only laughs.

I look around the room, feeling uncomfortable all over again. I see Charlie at the bar near the other end, talking to a light purple-skinned girl with long, edgy white hair and a cropped white tee shirt. Alastor sees me looking off into the distance, but I notice that he doesn't follow my gaze. "That's Charlie over there, I'm sure you've met her. The girl beside is Vaggie. Charlie's best friend." He pauses. "My love," he says, grabbing hold of my hand. I give him my attention again as he bends over to kiss the back of my hand. "I will see you again." He winks, and then he vanishes.

Vanishes. There, and then gone. Just like that.

Unable to move, I stare blankly at the spot where he had been standing. The memory of his lips is still on my hand as I snap back to reality and force the blush to leave my cheeks.

I am alone, in the middle of the lobby.

Looking back over at Charlie and Vaggie standing by the bar, holding pretty little drinks in their hands, I decide where I'm going to go.

Author's note:

Hi :) next 3 chapters will be out very soon! i'm liking this rewrite a lot better than my origional story. thanks for sticking with me!