Floating. Nevin couldn’t think of another word to describe it. He was suspended in space, in time, alone. A thought infuriated Nevin: he wasn’t in control. He had to be, if he wasn’t who was? After the anger had subsided, fear flooded into its place. Nevin was filled with doubt, he felt like screaming. But he had already screamed, screamed until his throat felt raw. What was the point? No one could hear him. He didn’t belong where he was – nothing belonged here. A new thought came to Nevin: where was here anyway? There was nothing in the distance, nothing in front of him. Only darkness filled with light. The fear began to renew itself, but this time Nevin dismissed it. He needed to be brave.

His father was brave, he wasn’t a loafer. He did something with himself and for that Nevin both loved and loathed him.

"Come back when you have made something of yourself"

Nevins’ father had said those exact words. Nevin remembered the moment like it was yesterday – one does not forget such an important moment easily. Nevin had been sitting in his parents floral printed living room, flipping feverishly through the help wanted section, knowing he had left it too long, knowing he had failed but unable to admit it. His father had made a simple proposition earlier, one year earlier to be exact:

"We will put you up for a year, during which time you will be looking for a job. If you have not found a job in this one year period you are out."

Nevin had agreed but let it slip, he went to late parties, got hammered and slept half the day.

"I’ll start looking tomorrow," he would say. But tomorrow never came. Nevin knew his dad had meant to help, meant to motivate him. He also knew that his dad could not go back on a deal. That was just the way he was. It still hurt, though. It still hurt a lot. That’s why he never went back, not after he got a job or a girlfriend, he didn’t even go back for the funeral. Nevin couldn’t face his death, couldn’t understand how he let foolish pride get in the way of forgiveness. Nevin was so upset and depressed he considered suicide, but he knew that would disappoint his dad. Nevin liked to believe in heaven, life after death. He couldn’t believe that death was just an unglamorous ending, there had to be more.

In the end it was his girlfriend, Zoë, that pulled him out of it. Nevin shook his head furiously until it hurt, forcing himself not to dwell on these memories – they were too painful. Yet here he was – floating aimlessly in nothingness, and he couldn’t stop thinking of them. Why? Nevin knew then that he really wasn’t in control. He still fought for it, but all for not.

The memories came back with such a force that Nevin felt physically sick. He remembered summers spent by beaches and mountains, winters skiing or passed in warm far off places. Never a dull moment with Zoë around, and Nevin had loved it. Without Zoë badgering him Nevin would do nothing, go nowhere, meet no one and probably shrivel up into the fetal position and die. Perhaps he would be found thousands of years later by scientists who would think, with their superior brains, that he was a sacrifice to primitive gods. They could stick him in a stuffy museum and charge the public 15 bucks each to see him, what a scam. Nevin had to smile at that thought, Zoë had never failed to comment on his "different" sense of humour. Those were the good years, they didn’t last nearly long enough, but that was life’s idea of joke. What ended it all was a stupid fight. A very loud, stupid fight.

Nevin couldn’t remember what it was about, no matter how hard he raked his brain. It’s not like that mattered, it was the outcome that changed it all. Driving too fast in his rusty blue Volvo, the inky blackness of nighttime and burning rubber – sights and smells that still haunted him to this very day. An innocent human dies while a corrupt one walks away. Life was numb after that, Nevin had learned the hard way that love hurt, love was bad, although his very few "friends" told him he was wrong. But Nevin could tell when he looked in their eyes, he could tell, they were lying. Eventually his "friends" stopped coming around. Nevin was glad none of them could understand how he felt, none of them knew how he felt.

"It’s time to get on with your life!"

"Zoë wouldn’t want you to be like this!" they would whine. Nevin had wished that they would take their whining elsewhere. There were no bitter feelings when they stopped calling, only relief on both accounts. Nevin knew that he made them uncomfortable, served them right for whining. Nevin always had preferred his own company, he had always thought of himself as a loner. There was no one to impress, he could actually be himself. He had only hung around other people in high school out of fear. High school was run by "jocks" and "cool" people, it was practically a dictatorship – wear this, eat this, think this way. Most infuriating was that people complied, and those that didn’t were considered outcasts. But that was the past now…and what was the point of fretting and dissecting the past? It was gone and done with. Nevin forced himself to relax – "calm blue ocean, deep breaths" – all that junk. The silence that followed was just as bad or even worse than the memories. How long could he stay there, Nevin thought restlessly, he was starting to want to fall, to do anything but float in this darkness filled with light. Realizing defeat, Nevin sunk back into his subconscious. He thought of his childhood, summers passed at the beach and mountains. Memories of home and far off exotic places he had visited. Nevin took a deep breath, he had failed to notice until now how hot it was, or had become. Sweat was running throughout his black hair and into his eyes. People had often commented on his eyes, they looked like mercury. Comments about how deep they seemed, how one could be easily lost within their depths. Nevin did not notice, but the darkness took a red tinge as the heat rose. Darker memories began to surface against Nevin’s will, they ranged from preschool name calling to high school fist fights. His quick temper which had often thrown him into blind rages. Those days were gone now, therapy and meetings had worked wonders. His surroundings became lighter, the darkness subsiding until it was no longer present, and a voice, like wind through spring leaves. So much beauty Nevin had to choke back tears.

"We have made our decision"

Nevin was taken aback. Who had said that? Where were they? What was going on? So many questions, no answers. Nevin’s head was spinning.

"We have made our decision"

The voice repeated, infuriatingly placid. Nevin was sure the voice was mocking him.

"Where am I," Nevin demanded sourly. "I need to know."

"You are everywhere and nowhere. You are within yourself, you are beside yourself. You are in limbo."

Calm, clear and commending. The voice did not falter under his harsh tone.

"We have made our decision. Please step through the door and view your afterlife."

"Afterlife?" Nevin thought. "What is that suppose to mean?"

"Afterlife as in…Dead," Nevin mumbled. "Am I dead?"

"You are dead to one world only Nevin, a world of restrictions and flesh. You are alive to us, to a world with no restrictions of freedom. Please step through the door."

It sounded appealing to Nevin, what dreams were made of. Nevin took a deep breath and…and what? There was no door, only light filled with darkness. The voice had lied to him, just like everyone else. It was to be expected, but it still hurt.

"The door is not material," the voice explained calmly. "Look within yourself and you will find what you seek."

Nevin closed his eyes and concentrated. He let go of his mistrust, guilt and hurt. Nevin discarded it like garbage, for that was what it was. Nevin smiled for the first time in a long time, Nevin remembered, he felt the light within. Nevin stepped through the door.