Lost in reflection, I’m able to muster, “Aly Shaifer.”

I really died? I think to myself. I can’t even remember how…

She checks something on her sheet, “Is that a shorter nickname?”

“Yes, I hate my full name.”

“That’s sad because I quite like your full name.”

“Please don’t say it.”

“Okay, hun, okay.” She stops reading and looks back up at me, “By now I’m sure you realize that you can’t exactly remember how you got here. You feel as if your heart starts to race— even though it can’t and your mind is covered in a dark haze. It’s like a panic attack without the blood racing. Exciting, right? 

“That’s called having Reverberations and even only the best of us can look past it so don’t be too alarmed by that. Though, I would warn you to stay away from your cause of death for a while once you remember. Reverberations are a doozy.”

I quickly pull myself out of my downward spiral and latch onto something in her explanation, “Wait,” I interrupt, “what do you mean by ‘can’t’ have a heartbeat?”

“You can’t think you’d have a heartbeat if you're dead now…”

I think to myself for a second, But then why did…?

So I ask the question, “Then, what would you do if I was still alive?”

“Silly girl, if you were still alive, then you would have never come here in the first place. So, since you’re here. You are indeed dead. Your body has expired and ceased to function and your soul has been moved here by our team. Even if your body was in a momentary death state, your soul would just be free to wander the Plain in a corporeal state— not our department, you’d be dealing with the Lemons at that point. 

“To be plain, no Grim would come to escort you here if that were the case. So all things considered; you are unfortunately dead.”

The unusual happy way that she put it unsettles me. And if I truly was dead, that means… 

Sarah… 

Mama-Mary… 

Papa-Barry… 

they’re all going to be…

I almost let myself slip into a depressed state but Jessica quickly pulls out the handkerchief that was in her front jacket pocket and hands it to me.

“But don’t worry, hun, you may have a chance to return to your former life, albeit with some major and/or minor changes. So cheer up!”

“Changes?” I point my thumb at the window, “I’m not going into one of those gates, am I?”

“No, no, no. At least, not yet. You’ve been selected to receive some benefits if you wish to claim them.” 

“Benefits?”

“Yep, and such benefits include a ‘stay of execution’ if you would… but before you hear the rest, allow me to evaluate you.”

“And how will you do that?”

She holds up a very thin file attached to her clipboard, “By reading your file of course! Your file has everything you have ever done in it. And as a beneficiary, you would need to prove that you're worthy of such benefits. The better you have performed during your life, the better benefits you will receive!”

“Well, that shouldn’t be too hard to prove,” I say, all things considered…

She flips open my file and starts reading. Though, it's the way her eyes quickly dart back and forth that puts me on edge. After what seems only to be 3 pages she closes the file and puts on a weary face. 

“Is something wrong?”

Failing to hide any concern, “Y-yes. There seems to be an issue with your file…”

Holding my breath I ask, “Like?”

“You haven’t done a single thing worth recognition in your entire life.”

Stabbed by the insult, I veil my obvious annoyance with a question, “What would count as noteworthy?” After all, if saving peoples lives for the past 5 years isn’t something noteworthy then how can anyone catch a Host’s eye?

“Well, something like mastering a martial art, or a body that’s trained to tackle the coliseum games, or something that showcases your brilliance and quick wittedness.”

A flash of memories begin to flood my mind:

// The rock smashes into the windshield and a web of cracks glaze across the glass. || The driver looks up in time and wildly swerves to his left, crashing into a parked Chariot model setting off its alarm.  

// Though he stomped on his breaks, I ended up on the hood of his car, sore even with adrenaline pumping. || Since only one of the four lanes has stopped, I shuffle into the other lane, this time without incident so that at least 2 of the 4 lanes are clear on the bridge.

//  I sling the old man across my shoulders like a madwoman and I dash to the end of the bridge despite the pain— despite the uneasy mess of pavement.

“Wait, does that file not say what happened today?”

Jessica opens the file again and hands me one of the sheets of paper. I skip to the last sentence where I assume it tells me what I did in my final moments. It reads:

“Fell off a bridge to her death after failing to run to safety.”

WAIT, WHAT?! I almost scream.

I pause and look up at Jessica whose face changes from a look of concern to a look of pity. 

I scan up the page to the incident earlier in the day: 

“Threw a rock at a car while out shopping with her adoptive sister. Ran from the scene of the crime. ”

“This… this is a joke right?”

“If it is, I’m not laughing.”

I reach over the table and grab the rest of my file.

“Do you have the correct file? Is it possible that some things are left out?!” I begin flipping through the mostly empty file of 17 pages. 

“Yes, though it took me longer to hunt down yours than normal, that is the correct file. Even with the most mundane people, there’s at least something remarkable in their files: after school activities; unrequited love stories; times it took you to repeat a school grade. Even their paper count is longer than yours. A file contains everything that you have done in your life. Most papers elaborate as to why people have done those things but yours…. It seems like you do it just for the sake of doing it, without even thinking I might add. Not only that but the amount of things you’ve done should actually be a reason why you shouldn’t be in here. You should be going through that giant golden gate instead.”

I’m stunned at the terrible lines written in my file. All of my achievements, all of my scuffles with saving people’s lives, all my awards in school and even my own grades are called mediocre; This file entirely skips over anything interesting in my life. Even the activities I’ve done after school are skipped over. This file is made to look like I was absolutely boring, as if I have and never would achieve anything in my life.

Trying not to be absolutely livid, I restrain myself, “Wait, so if I’ve even saved someone’s life it would be here?” I’m not mad at the fact that this is some mistake. I’m mad that someone would make me seem like a complete degenerate.

“Yes. It’d even show what you were thinking as you were doing it, whether it was for greed or compassion.”

Feeling an urgency come upon me, “Then why doesn’t my file reflect that?”

“Because you haven’t done it! And if you would have, it would be there! No one can mess with the files we have. Not even other Hosts can. The Host of the Beginning and the Host of the End are the only two who allow access to those things. So, if it’s not there, it’s because it never happened.”

My mouth hangs wide open, unable to even argue, “But I—”

“Enough! You can’t lie about anything here. Those papers are absolute—!” Her tone shifts mid way through, “Unless…” a tinge of danger radiates with that last word.

My hair stands up as I feel a chill in the room, “...Unless what?”

“You're one of the people we’ve been looking for, for a long, long time…” She pauses and looks me up and down as if searching for a reason to suspect me of any foul play, “But you seem to be entirely too young…”

Jessica looked to her left as if trying to see if anyone was listening or watching, then says, “A-_-_-_-_-_-_-N.”

My face must have given her an answer because I’m as confused as she seemed to be, mirroring me.

As if rising in a panic she said, “T-then am I to assume that you already have the Director’s authority?”

Just when I was about to try to explain that I have no idea what she’s going on about I was interrupted by shouting from the other side of the wall, “WHAT DO YOU MEAN SHE TOOK HER TO AN INTERVIEWING ROOM?!”

The voice of another woman follows the louder one, “I’m sorry Director, you were so busy with your meeting with the herald—”

Jessica goes quiet, letting her mask crack, uttering, “Director?” I barely hear her swear to herself before the other person starts shouting again. 

“I DON’T CARE THAT I WAS IN THE MIDDLE OF RECEIVING A HERALD! YOU SHOULD KNOW BETTER THAN ANYONE, SHERRI, THAT IF IT’S A MATTER ON MY LIST THEN I MUST PERSONALLY SEE TO IT!!” 

Heavy footsteps stop on the other side of the wall and a loud double pound resounds from it. The dot that was in the middle of the wall expands into a door once again and my heart almost explodes inside my chest.

I grip my chest in agony as I try to contain my heart. I look up to see two more women walk in. 

The door swings open to a gorgeous black haired woman. Though I thought that she was just another lackey like Jessica, the way she towers over everyone and the golden glow of her eyes told me otherwise. Like Jessica, she wore a black suit, but it’s accented with a red vest and red handkerchief along with an oversized clear bowtie that distorts everything close to it. Her hair is in a tight fashionable bun with bangs styled to the right side. Not a single thing about her is out of place, like she was a pristine and tidy doll that was still inside its package. 

Jessica stood and faced the new woman, “Director, I was just—” 

“Save it!” The director commands. “I’ll speak to you later, now out!” She points. 

My heart for some reason flutters wildly like it was about to have a heart-attack.

Is it because she’s the boss of the shadows?

“But Director, she—”

Instantly I feel a dominating chill in the room, bringing a new meaning to the word terrified, as the director utters, "OUT."

Yeah,  she’s definitely the boss.

Immediately Jessica’s head falls as she marches out of the room as the Director closes the door, leaving both Jessica and the other woman in the hall.

The woman stands facing the door, collecting herself before facing me. She turns with a smile as the door fades back into a dot and walks up to the table, saying, “Hello, Aly.”