Chapter Two; Death Doctrine

"My name is Steve Johnson and I'm a dead man" He said to himself exhaling in distress, the reality was that his hole family had died in a car accident on their way to a vacation that he had planned, and unfortunately or fortunately for him he had to skip on the eleventh hour, his mother, father, only sister and her family had died in a day, he was in the club restless when he had a call that his wife and daughter were in another fatal car accident and on getting to the hospital his wife had passed and his three years old daughter though she would survive had lost her mother and he in turn lost the love of his life, he didn't just see it getting any worse, but he was wrong, he couldn't recall every detail of the past hour but he knew he had taken a significant sedative that will kick in in less than a hour and thirty minutes and he was a long way away from the cure.

He sat drunken, flat on the sofa one leg straight on the floor the other, knee upwards, his brown undercut hair scattered and bent to the right, his beards, brushed well but wet with vodka, his hands stretched apart in tiredness, his face dry and his cloths messy and dirty, he sat staring at his daughter's photo few inches away, she wore a red gown standing beside blooming flower, he placed his gaze on her smile, it was tender and sweet, he could see a glimpse of his beautiful wife. "Penelope Paul was an extra ordinary woman", He said to everyone who asked about his wife before now, but now it was in the past, but in his subconscious, she was still alive, her smile, her cool long and straight blonde hair, her almond shaped face, simultaneously not long and not short, her waist thing, and below, round and thick, and her smile as that of his daughter tender. He never saw himself without her from the first time they met, he stood up, sadly waltzing around the house, he came across her guitar, it a was brown and shiny guitar, that she used to sing her daughter lullaby, she would often play and he loved to watch, she would play it while he lay down his head on her lap, and in this posture he would listen staring at her as she played, she would often pull his hair softly to the sides and plant kisses down his neck, he didn't know that a time like this would come and when it did, he was stranded to the maximum, and now he felt an ache in his chest, by and by he bleed.

He sat going through what would happen when he died, what is after death, is it total darkness, in which you one's soul would remain remembering it's mistakes where on Earth, or is the Believe of Heaven and Hell really real, would he be in Hell torturing himself or in Heaven singing and resting in bliss, is reincarnation real, would he be born into another body to relive his life again, if that was what would really happen, it would be fantastic in his terms "Let me just come back with what I have now, just let me be taller" He had said sarcastically with a little smile hiding in the load of sadness and pain in his current extent, then he thought, he would be leaving his child without any single family, if he died now, he thought, he would torture himself for all eternity, reincarnation or not, Heaven or Hell, blackness or not, and it was at this that he jumped to his feet, dusted himself, took his last gulp or alcohol, rubbed his hair back to it's normal direction and swift away, into the night in search of the cure

He was sure he got to the cure shortly after, he fell down backwards and was taken off to a hospital, he layed down faced upwards as he felt unmeasurable bliss as he was still alive though pain lurked around wanting to be felt, he was happy and that happiness exceeded the pain, it locked it deep down amongst the things he would gladly and wholeheartedly bare to see his daughter again, the pain if loosing the love of his life, the pain of having survived his sucide by poisoning, the pain of almost leaving his daughter alone with not a care in the world, he was damn sure the devil would let him keep a half-hour in heaven, for him to feel just an inkling of joy before pulling him to the depths of hell, the depths of despair, where he would have no choice but torture himself for his painful and slightly self inflicted misfortune, leaving his daughter with no family to love her as she deserves was a thing that he would forgive himself for in a million years. His eyes closed slowly as he sang his wife's favorite lullaby, remembering everything they had done together, and everything about her that to him was perfect, her skin, her smile, her hair, her dance, her kisses, her hugs, and her tender eyes that he would stare at as they made love under a cold windy night and the twinkling starry sky.