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She was dying.

Ocean Jones was dying with a sword through the heart. She'd not fought back, she couldn't have fought back, and the whole time, she didn't want to fight back. There wasn't any escaping the reigns of death, whether it be from herself, or towards herself, or from others. She'd contemplated it for some time, and she'd decided that the next time someone were to attack her, she wouldn't fight back. There'd be no means of escape for her, so why would she try to escape? If she did, there'd always be that one person that would want to kill her, and she knew that one of them eventually had to kill her.

She fell to her knees, the crimson hot liquid pouring from her chest and her stomach. Her head titled towards the sky, and tears slid down the side of her face. Her hands clutched at the holes in her body, blood pouring through her fingers. She was losing buckets of blood, her skin turning paler and paler with each second that passed.

She screamed once, she fell, and she was on her stomach. A pool of blood was growing around her, the last few breaths that remained of herself making their way out. They resembled sobs, the type of sobs that came after crying for a while.

inhale. inhale.
exhale.
inhale.
exhale. exhale.

Blood filled her mouth, and as she opened it, a rustic sensation ran down her body. Her breathing stopped, her body stopped shaking, and her eyes shut.

She'd died.

Before her stood a table, a wooden, four legged table, a royal blue table cloth with fringed edges sitting on top, three silver platters spaced equally apart with steam pouring from the small crack between the cover and the plate. It was only this one table, and the rest of the space around her was white. There seemed to be no floor, but she could walk. There seemed to be no air, but she could breathe. There seemed to be no sound, but she could hear.

Ocean Jones could hear.

You might be wondering why she wasn't astonished, but for her, it seemed like no big deal. She could hear, and she once couldn't, but there was no unnecessary hullabaloo about sound once more being a part of her life. Well, after -life.

She took a step towards the table, an a hand draped in white cloth taking off the lid. Inside revealed a small, silver bowl of blue water. Slowly, it transformed into something beautiful, a sphere of water that spun slowly. She saw nothing physically, but in her mind, her childhood memories played on repeat.

Gardening in her back yard with her dad and mom, planting what seemed to be tulips. She was covered in dirt, laughing along with her parents.

Playing in the tree in front yard with one of her friends. Of course, a name was not given, for the unimportance of it was indescribable.

Various things played, but these two seemed to be the main focus.

The slideshow stopped, her mind filling with a black void of nothingness. Her hand slid to the second platter, revealing a beating human heart, the a blade sticking straight in the center. This heart morphed into a sheet of a soaked paper, which read:

Dear Ocean Jones,

It is most certainly delightful to hear that your life has came to an end. Upon arriving, you will notice that this single sheet of paper has came from one beating heart and a blade piercing the membrane.

This is only a reminder of your death, and that you, most definitely, are dead. I'd like to address that your previous life was filled with false feelings, false knowledge, and anger. None of these are positive, so I am here to inform you that you will be spending your after-life with Hellugioto. Information will be given prior to your arrival.

Signed,
Death

There was no questioning, she opened the third platter, revealing nothing, and as she leaned over to see if anything were to be there that she had somehow not seen, she disappeared.