Maisie felt cold. Colder than she'd ever felt in her entire life. It was that kind of unbearable cold that chills you right to your bones, and back out again. Her teeth where chattering, and she wrapped her arms around herself to try to preserve some heat. Her eyes were open, but it was completely dark. She couldn't even see her had, which he had place right in front of her face. She was scared to say the least. Was she alive? She had tried so hard…to remain dead. Had they revived her? She felt around on her wrist to try and check her pulse. The wounds were gone…she must be dead! They wouldn't have healed this well…there would still be a scar, she had sliced down so far. She brought her hand to her chest then, to feel for her heart beat. After what seemed like hours, she dropped her hand. She was, in fact, dead as a door nail. Was this what she had to look forward to for eternity? This cold and this darkness? Had she made a grave mistake?

She was about to burst into tears, when a warm golden light enveloped her from behind.

"What is that?" She whispered to herself, trying out her voice for the first time in the afterlife. It was softer than she remembered…a little more beautiful. "Could that be Heaven?"

She turned to face it, and was shocked to see that it was coming from a rectangular shaped doorway that seemed to be cut out of the darkness that had seemed never ending. She approached it cautiously, and then felt silly.

"I'm dead." She scoffed to herself. "What more could possibly happen to me?"

When she finally reached the doorway, the light dimmed a bit. She reached out to touch it, only to find that she couldn't pass through it.

"What good is a door if I can't use it?" She tried once more to push her hand in, and it wouldn't budge. It felt like cold, smooth glass under her palm.

"You will use it, in time my dear. But, you will find that it is not a door at all…but rather, a mirror." Came a soft, twinkling female voice. Maisie jumped out of her skin, letting loose a very girlish squeal.

"Who are you!" She didn't dare turn around. "Are you God?"

Who ever had spoken placed a warm hand on her shoulder, and that sweet voice ghosted over Maisie's shoulder.

"Oh no, Child. My name is Persephone, and you're in the Underworld." The voice was gentle. Maisie swallowed thickly.

"Is this what it feels like…is this what death is? This darkness and cold?" She whispered. Persephone laughed, and it sounded like bells chiming, and suddenly Maisie felt safe.

"Absolutely not. This is where all new arrivals come at first. They must realize they are dead before they start their life here. For most people, it takes much longer, but you Child…you killed yourself, didn't you?"

Persephone spun Maisie around, and it was all the girl could do to keep from collapsing. Persephone was tall, and she was floating a few inches off the ground. Her long, chestnut hair was thick and curly, and it was wrapped delicately around her head in a braid. Her face was round and full, with big shining brown eyes. She was wearing a green and golden robe, with silver, shimmering sandals. Maisie nodded slowly.

"I did. Is that bad? Am I in trouble?" Her voice was a barely-there whisper. Persephone's heavenly mouth slid into a soft, motherly smile.

"Not at all, my child. We don't discriminate here; there is no hate in the Underworld. There is only splendor." There was a promise in her voice that was second to nothing Maisie had ever heard. She had no choice but to believe everything this woman was saying. But there was still that feeling in the pit of her stomach…that fear of the unknown. What would happen to her? Was everyone mad she had died? How were her parents dealing with this loss? There where just too many questions, too many worries circling her head. She was silent as Persephone lead her along in the darkness, as the light from the rectangular mirror grew smaller and smaller, and the light grew dimmer and dimmer…

Ronnie switched his light on, and it was unbelievably bright, so he shut his eyes against it. He had placed it right next to the mirror, and it was reflecting off the glass, so he quickly got up and moved it to the other side of the window. Now, he could finally function. He smiled softly and looked at the mirror. He had done some research on the previous owners of the house. They were a small family, the Mosses. Their daughter, Maisie, had died in the bathroom that was adjacent to his bedroom… the door in his room that was all boarded up. Now, that was freakish enough, but on top of all of that he had seen her picture in the obituaries from that day and fell madly in love with her. By the looks of her picture, she was a small girl, with long, black hair and a far away look in her eyes. Her smile was forlorn, and her face pale. It gave Ronnie an odd sense of comfort to know that she might still be here in spirit…watching over him. He even hoped, that maybe some day, she'd show herself to him…but that was hopeful, childish thinking. Of course she's not, and of course she wouldn't. She was dead. She was just another pretty face in an obituary. Nothing more, nothing less…right?