Annaise drops like a boulder off a cliff. From where, she doesn't know. She lifts her head and sees a body hanging right over her, and she recognizes it instantly; it's her own. She gasps and stumbles back, only to get an even clearer view of her dead body. Annaise grew very confused. How can she see herself? It can't be some supernatural activity. Annaise had been strictly against the thought of an afterlife when she was alive, and she was not about to start now. Yet, the longer she stared at herself, the more she gave in to the idea.

She sighs in defeat.

Annaise knows she's been kidding herself. There simply isn't any other way for her to see her own corpse without being some paranormal being. She raises her hand, and it looked slightly translucent.

Of course, she thinks sarcastically, I'm a ghost. How stereotypical.

A noise sounds behind Annaise, almost making her jump in surprise. What was that, she wonders. She whirls her head around and meets a figure covered in a cloak of black. They are holding a scythe.

"Why why why, what's your name dear?"

She doesn't answer, as it seemed that her voice had been taken away by shock.

"Dear," the figure prods, "your name?"

"A . . . Ann . . ."

"Ann?"

Annaise shakes her head. "It's Annaise," she whispers.

"Ah, Annaise. What a beautiful name."

"Are you him?"

The figure laughs.

"You'll have to be more specific darling."

"The . . . Grim Reaper?"

"Oh yes, that would be me."

Annaise nearly broke down then. So he is real, she says to herself. "Are you going to harvest my soul now or something around that sort?"

They shake their head. "Oh no; I have a small policy when dealing with people like you."

"People like me?"

"The ones that bring death upon themselves."

She trembles. Is she going to be punished? Would she be going - if she even dare think it - hell?

"What'll you be doing with me?" she asks nervously.

"Showing you what could be," the Grim Reaper says in a disappointed manner. They were upset that this girl had been in so much despair that she had thought to commit suicide. They knew she would've grown to have been a great woman. She would win a Noble Prize for leading a peaceful protest against America's next Civil War. She'd save a million and more lives.

She could've been so much. If only she could push through her age of adolescence.

They make it a promise to themselves to show her what could have been, and make her see what she always was.

"Come. Follow me," the figure beckons. Annaise has no other choice than to oblige. Together, they go to her house. Annaise stops at the door, making the Grim Reaper halt behind her. "Well, what are you waiting for? Go through." And so she does; she glides straight through the front door as if it weren't even there.

The first thing Annaise notices is her father thrown carelessly on the beer-stained couch. Her mother is right at the foot of the couch, and it looked as if she'd fallen from it. "Why are we here?" Annaise asks the figure.

"Hush child." The figure points at the two people. "Just listen."

Annaise walks closer to her parents and bends down.

"Hey . . . hey Vivian. Did you see Annaise come back yet?"

"N . . . nnnoooo . . . Maybe sheeeeeee's over at a friend's."

"Honeeeeeey," Thomas Walker says with an ugly snort, "she doesn't have any."

They laugh at their joke while Annaise takes a step back in hurt. Still, the figure pushes her forward again. Annaise feels a chill on the spot where the Grim Reaper touched her, like if ice was being pressed through her skin somehow.

"Do you think she's ooo . . . kay?" Thomas mumbles to Vivian. He takes another swig of what must be the eighth beer bottle. "What if she's . . . hurt?"

"She's a toughy, babe. If she can handle us, she can handle anythin'." Annaise nods in agreement, but the Grim Reaper shakes their head in opposition.

They don't believe that Annaise would benefit from her parents' actions at all. Her parents are part of the reason why their daughter is dead. It's true that they pushed her to be the best, but parents should know their child's limit. The two have pushed Annaise way past her limit. They think it should be a crime.

At least they got one thing right, Annaise was a "toughy".

"Excuse me mister, is this enough?" Annaise looks to the Grim Reaper with her big, brown eyes - eyes that others called "bug eyes".

"Alright, alright. Next stop; let's go to your school then, hm?"