Bright, white light.
It clawed through her eyelids, staining them with its imprint until she could see veins.
Opening her eyes, she took in her surroundings.
Nothing was there. It was all bright, white light.
It was all bright, white light. Pressing down on her, and yet freeing her, soaring above her in an endless void.
Where am I? She thought. And she was glad that she could think, for she had no body.
But she must have a body. A body to see; a body to have eyes, and veins in those eyelids.
A body to feel the waves of anxiety that pulsed through her.
And just as she acknowledged this, a body came to her, standing there with death in her eyes.
The black dress was soaked in blood, the crimson stains blotting her skin too; a violent assault on the eyes.
The body shifted, contorted, snapping between other forms. A small boy, then a girl, both with wide red smiles at their throats.
Then finally to a man.
A man dressed in fine silks and threads, a golden crown sitting atop his dark head of hair.
A spark of memory.
The man smiled, and she recoiled.
Dark shapes and silhouettes floated to the surface of her mind, and her father's smile turned sad.
I am sorry, Rosalie.
That's my name.
Yes, child. That is your name.
She was struck at how he spoke so freely in her mind, his voice echoing and reverberating in her skull.
Am I dead? She asked her father the impending question, desperate for some explanation.
And he bowed his head.
Oddly, she seemed relieved.
I don't understand. How is one dead but not dead?
She was thinking, but she had no brain. She was seeing, but had no eyes. She was there, but not there.
Everywhere in this nowhere place.
You were murdered, sweet daughter.
Screams and mad cackles of laughter bubbled up in the silence, cutting through the bright, white lightness to form a darkening maelstrom of blood, violence, and a thirst for revenge.
And then it was gone.
Murdered. She repeated, dully.
Murdered. He confirmed. He mentioned nothing of the malevolent cloud that just vanished, and simply stepped forward.
Murdered just like me, and your brother and sister.
Both safe. Both with your mother. Reconciled. No guilt, no need for vengeance.
Her heart thundered, and she wondered if he could hear it in the vast space around them.
Yet you, Rosalie, are trapped.
She glanced at the bright, white light surrounding her, and thought of a life full of nothing.
Nothing, but that bright, white light.
Not here. This is the state between moving on, and going back. And you have chosen to go back.
Moving on, and going back.
Life and death.
I choose to live? She was confused. So much blood and torture. Surely death would be better.
Surely death could end the burning hate in her heart.
Not live. To go back is to walk the earth unsatisfied until you seek vengeance. In other words, you are banished back to your old realm until your spirit is at peace.
But I am at peace! I want to see Johnny again- Rosa! And… mother…
Hands clawed at the bright, white light.
Shapeless creatures dragged themselves towards her.
An endless mist of dread hanging above, and a pit of loathing lying in wait below.
You choose to seek vengeance, or you remain a trapped spirit- alone.
Before she could ask anything else, her father faded, only to be replaced with that bright, white light.
A choice lay before her.
She stood, and clenched her fists.
A streak of blonde in her peripheral vision made her spin, and she saw a sneering face, covered in blood.
Mother's blood. Rosa's blood. Father's blood. Johnny's blood.
Hell-bent on what she had to do.
What she wanted to do.
What she needed to do.
So she pushed on, leaving it all behind her to return.
Never again to see that bright, white light.
A/N: Honestly, so proud of this chapter. I went for a very non-naturalistic (well, structure-wise) style and awh it worked out really well!