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Life beyond the grave has always been a mystery, something everyone interprets differently, though they do not figure out the truth until it's too late. Until you're floating in limbo with the hope of being free long gone. Until you've gotten past being dead, gotten past mourning never being able to see your daughter take her first steps, or mourning that your husband shall either wallow in self pity after your death or completely forget about you and find someone new. Until you are empty.
But that didn't happen to me. I was different.
"She didn't have to die!" I screamed at the sky. "You could have left her to say her good-byes first!" I screamed again, with my voice cracking at the end. Nothing was right, and nothing was going to be right with her gone. It was all this so-called 'God's fault. He takes everything away from me, everything. When I was five he took our dog Penny away. When I was 11 he took Mama, and he took Pops too. Not to mention Aunt Aly; the drunken rat that raised me for 5 years during my parent's separation. Everything I seemed to give love, was automatically taken away. Always after I think
"What would I do, without [insert person's name]"
Maybe it's just bad luck, I don't know. But, hopefully, I will come to realize something...
****OKAY! For starters, I would just like to say that this is my completely original idea. I'm sorry if I accidentally copied an idea from another book. I have done that before, and I was really bummed out. This is also one of my first original stories that I'm going to publish on here. I hope you enjoy