I didn't have a plan.

I never had a plan.

My lack of foresight was immediately apparent as I hurtled down corridors without checking for exit signs, merely hoping that my innate sense of direction would lead me out of the hospital. Said sense of direction had never existed in life, so why I thought it would kick in once I was dead, I didn't know. All that mattered to me at that moment was that I needed to put as much distance between me and the Reaper as possible.

At first, I tried to dodge around doctors, nurses, and patients. It was a force of habit. If I'd been alive, I'd have barrelled into the innocent bystanders and sent them sprawling across the floor. As a spirit – or whatever the Hell I was – I simply shifted through them like a shadow. Not a single person turned their head in my direction as I sped through the waiting room and out into the car park. It was a cool evening, but my breath didn't mist in the air. Although I huffed and fought to fill my lungs, it didn't leave a mark on the world of the living. I had mere seconds to decide on my direction. If the Reaper had followed me, then he wouldn't be far behind, and I couldn't risk him catching me. Not before I'd thought about my options.

At least, I assumed I had options.

Up, down, and staying put.

I was more inclined to take the latter. I'd barely experienced the world, and I wanted to see more of it. It didn't seem fair that I should have to leave it so soon. Surely, I could linger for a few years as a ghost. Other people did it all the time. If they didn't, there wouldn't be any ghost stories. I could totally rock a white sheet and rattle chains in a creepy castle. It wasn't the job I'd have picked for myself, but I'd take what I could get.

I took off again, my gaze set on the nearby road and the rolling park beyond. They were just vast and dark enough that I could hide there until Leon gave up the chase. Out on the pavement, I blended as well as I could into a small group of people. They were the perfect camouflage, not least because they didn't know that I was there. We arrived at a pedestrian crossing. Though the lights changed, and the cars stopped, my heart still slammed violently against my ribs with every frightening step I took. I clamped my jaw tight to trap my breath behind my teeth and didn't dare to release it until I was safely on the other side of the street.

It was stupid to be afraid of the vehicles. If they sped through the lights, they wouldn't hurt me. Nothing would hurt me ever again. Still, the rumble of engines and the stench of exhaust fumes made my stomach churn and roil uncontrollably. I balled my hands into fists and hastened away from the group. I had no intention of following them all the way to where they were headed, and I didn't think they'd be thrilled to have a ghost in their home. No, my path lay across the park. It seemed to be a popular spot with patients because a few ambled slowly along the winding paths while others rested in wheelchairs and simply breathed in the evening air. A lump appeared in my throat. I used to think the worst thing in the world would be to grow old and grey, living out the rest of my days slowly, carefully, and in quiet solitude.

I'd have taken that over the hand I'd been cruelly dealt any day.

Lost in my despair, I stopped to sit on a nearby bench.

And then I fell through it.

"Come on!" I cried in anguish and frustration. I'd have kicked the thing if I thought it would do any good. I wouldn't even have the satisfaction of breaking a toe on it. And – honestly – I'd have loved to have felt a broken toe. I'd have loved to have felt anything at all. I closed my eyes and wrapped my hand around my wrist. I could feel my own fingers in the same way that I'd felt Leon's on my ankle. Perhaps the fact we were both dead meant that we could have some form of physical contact.

Not that I wanted to touch him ever again.

Ever.

Still, it gave me some small hope to think that – while I couldn't return to what I'd left behind – there might be some other people waiting for me wherever it was Leon had intended to take me. I took a deep, shuddering breath. All I had to do was swallow my pride, go back, find the Reaper, apologise, and let him take me wherever it was he needed me to go. I just hoped he was still waiting. I hadn't heard anyone shouting after me when I ran, so I assumed he'd not followed me. Leon hadn't seemed the following type, more the type to be happy that I was off his hands so he could get on with the rest of his night.

Wow, running had been a stupid idea.

It was a point further proven when I turned back and found a dog in my path. Animals were supposedly sensitive to spirits, and who didn't like dogs? I knelt to be at his level and cooed at the enormous black beast, "Who's a good boy?"

He snarled.

Evidently, the answer was not him.

Animals, supposedly, could see spirits and the supernatural. It didn't weird me out that a dog had noticed me. I assumed that, like everyone else I'd met since I'd died beside Leon, the dog would just pass through me. Nothing else had been solid, so it couldn't hurt me or anything. Still, I stood sharply and took a wary step back. Thank God, because the dog took that moment to push off with its hind legs. Its full weight hit my chest with such force that the air rushed out of my lungs before I dropped to the ground. Each beat of its hot breath was as putrid as the last, and it clouded over my face.

The dog's jaws opened wide. I thought for a moment that this was going to be how I died.

Then I remembered I was already deceased and thought instead of how awful my luck would be if I could die twice on the same day.

I raised my feet and pushed them against the dog's abdomen to force it away. Death had not been kind enough to grant me superhuman powers, and I found that the weighty canine outmatched me. This seemed curiously unfair to me, and not only because I thought I was facing my last moments once more. It seemed so because most main characters (and I assumed I could take the mantle of the main character in my own life and this story) had achieved supernatural powers or abilities by the time they faced off against their first foe. For some reason, I was an exception to the rule, and not in the she's-totally-different-because-she-drinks-herbal-tea-and-likes-black-and-white-movies-sort-of-way. More the she-might-not-actually-be-the-main-character-and-is-possibly-about-to-get-her-throat-torn-out kind of way.

With a high-pitched whine, the dog was sent stumbling off onto its side. It crawled away while it yelped and howled in agony as a white burning light seared through its thick fur. A firm hand dragged me back to my feet roughly, holding my forearm in a vice-like grip while his other wielded an enormous glowing scythe. Leon didn't stop to ask if I was unhurt or to lecture me about how reckless it had been for me to run off alone. His priority was clearly to get away from the dog, and I wasn't about to argue with him about it.

The Reaper dragged me at his pace. His long legs carried him with effortless speed across the park. We ran through the people and objects in our path. I stumbled along clumsily behind him, slowing us both and feeling the frustration it caused him in the way he squeezed my arm ever tighter. I didn't dare to look back to see if the dog was on our tail. Over the din of the waking world, it was hard to hear if the whimpering had stopped. I took the silence as a positive sign we were far enough from it and were out of harm's way.

We veered off and took a corner at speed. I was flung outwards and glimpsed where we were headed around Leon: the public toilets.

Now, call me crazy, but I didn't want to get dragged into some grotty old loos on my first night of being dead. I wasn't sure they were sturdy enough to save us from the attack of the enormous dog. The thing could knock down the door with a couple of swipes. Besides, we'd be trapped in there, and it could just sit and wait outside for us to leave. Unless it was just as able to pass through things as we were. If that was the case, there wouldn't be anywhere safe for us to hide.

"Hey – hey!" I shouted at him. "Shouldn't we get out of here?"

"That's what we're doing!"

"You want to get out of here in the toilets? Are you stupid?"

My question didn't deserve an answer, it seemed. Leon swung his other arm. The scythe swept through the air, cutting a circular shape. The outline he created glowed hot white like a sparkler against the night sky. Once we'd reached the door, the momentum was such that one motion of his arm was enough to create a perfect oval around it. The toilet door handle shone as brightly as the outline which clung to the frame. I was roughly released for a moment as he took the handle in his fingers, twisted it, and forced the door to give way. It was then that I stole a glance over my shoulder, wondering what had happened to our hairy attacker. Bounding across the park, tongue lolling past its razor-sharp teeth, the dog gained ground on us. Our gazes met, and the contact drove it onwards, making the creature put more power behind each step, practically leaping the great lengths to attack.

Leon brought his arm around my waist from behind and all but threw me through the open door and into The Beyond.