The Drazen World: Purgatory (Kindle Worlds Novella)

they came and went silently without warning or preamble.
"Goodbye to you, too, Mr. God's PA." My words were mumbled, I barely heard them myself but felt guilty nonetheless at my smart mouth using the Lord's name in vain.
Wow, listen to me. I'm a believer and actually trying to be a good ‘child’.
Turning my attention back to the task at hand, I tilted the book down and slid it from the shelf.
On the front cover, in small cursive print, was the name of the person whose experiences were contained within.
Monica Faulkner aka Monica Drazen.
She got married? To Jonathan Drazen? How long have I been here?
Opening the leather cover, I walked distractedly to my usual seat and got comfortable; tucking my feet under me as though readying myself to dive into a Stephen King horror novel.
 
∞
 
Two months earlier
Age: Non-documented
Scribe: The Pen of Sceedie
Monica Faulkner sat unmoving at the piano that reigned in the center of her childhood home. Her mind, her thoughts, her every emotion an open wound seconds away from welcoming the inevitable infection of life's dreaded moments.
The pain was unbearable. The guilt, an assassin.
She longed for numbness, a distraction from the reality that her best friend had abandoned her.
That was the pain.
The anger she felt at the betrayal of having to see her best friend's lifeless body had her very bones shaking with reined in violence.
That was the guilt.
Monica's rational brain knew her actions had not warranted Gabby's desire to end her life. But her traitor of a heart reminded her every second of her stupidity.
Why had she believed the studio would call Gabby to reschedule?
Why hadn't she tried harder to reach Gabby?
Why hadn't she demanded they rent a helicopter to go get her best friend? Traffic in Los Angeles was impossible at best but the executives had the financial means to make things happen.
Why hadn't she moved earth and sky to make sure Gabby had been at her side instead of getting lost in alcohol with a man more interested in his personal pleasure than her immediate safety?
Sliding her delicate fingers across the ivory keys, Monica thought of Gabby's pale face; her beautiful, sometimes expressive eyes hidden behind closed lids. Her plump, rosy lips hidden behind the blue hue of death.
Black and white keys melted into a blur of nothingness as the tears raced to her eyes but she fought their descent. Anger was easier to manage. Succumbing to pain would likely destroy her.
Raising her hands in the air, a foot above the ivory, she put all of her strength behind her assault.
"I hate you. I hate you. I hate you."  The screams echoed off the walls, running a full circle around the room before returning to her ears and angering her all over again.
"I hate. I hate. I hate!" Gabby wasn't the only reason Monica was angry.
Darren with his secrets.
Jonathan with...everything.
Her mother with her indifference.
The music business with its human destruction.
Herself, for having her head buried too deep in the Mojave desert.
"Hate. Hate. Hate!" Her fingers made no music, only violent, thunderous sounds that amounted to nothing. Just like life. It was all meaningless. It was just a ruse. All of it.
Her phone rang but she just let it go. The noise could just melt into the already existing ruckus of her home.
Maybe she should give up, too?
Everyone else around had, why not her?
What was the point anyway?
Her fingers turned to fists as she pounded away at Gabby's favorite instrument, unleashing the powerful ire that threatened to destroy her very sanity.
No.
She wouldn't be that weak. She wouldn't be that selfish.
Monica would fight back.
Ignore Darren.
Dismiss Jonathan.
Forget music.
Hate, hate, hate, Gabrielle.
Except she loved her. More than all of the others.
With one last beating on the keys, she rose to her feet and shuffled away to her room, straight to the bathroom where Gabby would surely arrive, ready to braid her hair.
She never did.
The next morning, she woke up in her bed, half dressed with make-up caking her eyes closed and tear-induced snot clogging up her airways.
About to stretch and start her day anew, Monica stopped and realized two things.
Jonathan would be a part of her past.
Gabby was still dead.
Burying her head back under her covers, Monica decided life could wait. Numbness took precedence.
Chapter 13
I was crying.
Sobbing, really.
I had spent so much time bottling up my emotions while alive that this vulnerability, these tears were frustrating and yet liberating all at once.
Wet stains dotted the relatively new pages of the book as my tears cascaded relentlessly down my cheeks. Of course, I knew my untimely death would upset her; I wasn't completely clueless to the meaning of our friendship. To be perfectly honest with myself, it was my plan all along. A last "fuck you" thrown her way to make sure she felt guilty for leaving me behind.
I wanted a reaction from Monica, for her to acknowledge the depth of her betrayal. I wanted to be the center of the drama, not a sideline spectator. I wanted all eyes on me. Only me. For the world to look at my demise and hang their heads in sorrow and unrelenting grief.
Raising my head, I looked around the gray room, taking in the minimal decoration and utter coldness of the library. Logically, it should have been a place filled with stories and diversions when in reality it was just four walls of despair.
Just like me.
No, correction....
Just like I used to be.
I wasn't in agony anymore. The soulless abyss of self deprecation didn't consume me as it did when I had first arrived. My questions now had answers