The cold, metal barrel of the gun was placed against my head. I could not see the model or the man who held it through the blindfold. I could not yell for help because of white cloth forced over my mouth. All I knew was that, it was raining, and that I was probably going to die.

My day started as any other day, with me laying up against the headboard of my bed, staring down at the brown beaded necklace left behind by the person I cared for the most, my daughter. I had to cover myself with the blanket as I sat there. I had painted the walls white, it creates a soothing feeling. White was her favorite color.

As the alarm clock on the side table began beep, I, with a gentle push of the thumb, shut it off.  After placing the necklace on the purple cloth, wrapping it and returning it to the drawer, I made my way down the hall – looking up at every picture frame which decorated it. I stopped in front of the picture of my daughter and my wife, bringing my hands together as I stared up at them, trying to force some tears out.

The door bell rang. It was a sound I was all too familiar with.

I slowly descended the stairs, walking to the door. I swung the door open, only to be faced with butt of a rifle. Next thing I knew, I was inside a giant mass of darkness, unable to see where it ended. I stuck my arms out only to find that the darkness was very limited, not much space. Rather cramped, with random moments when I would find myself getting thrown up, only to hit my head against what supposed to be the roof.

I had no idea what was going on, all I knew was that my danger senses were on fire and that my mouth was gagged. And I could tell that something was covering my eyes, and the distant, unrecognizable voices were saying my name. “Dan? Ye’, we’ve got ‘em. Huh, ye’, we’re on our way there now. Don’ worry yourself Ben, we’ll be done wit’ this.”

I am in a car, or vehicle of some sort. They are going to be done with something.  My hands began to shake. Fear? Of what?

Death? A fate which my wife had no choice but to accept? A fear which my daughter was killed by? I have always thought that when the time came, I would accept such an opportunity with open arms. The thought of seeing my wife and daughter in “the better place” was always a happy thought. But why now? Why am I shaking? Am I afraid of something I cannot even see? Who knows, all I knew was that with the sudden click of the door, the devil had come for me. He was grabbing my bound hands and dragging me out of the old darkness and into a newer darkness. The date? Who knows? The time? Who cares? All I knew was that death was quick to approach and time was about to continue once again for me.

I was forced onto my knees, a shiver running down my bare back as cold snow gave way under my weight. The cold metal barrel of the gun was now to my head, and the devil was laughing. As the laughing subsided, a deep voice impaling fear spoke. “Dan…You are going to hell. See ya.” And with a crack a bullet was lodged into me head. By body fell to the ground, but I wasn’t dead? I didn’t feel dead at least. And then, with a flash, instead of looking into darkness, I was looking down from the sky at my body, and something hit me like a flying brick. I flew up in my bed to find my five year old daughter trying to slap me awake and my wife standing over me, a gentle smile etched across her lips.