‘I’m here to help you understand what happened tonight.’

‘Yeah?’ I frown, feigning ignorance. ‘What happened tonight, Deborah?’

‘You know what you saw, Ash.’

‘Do I?’

I cross my arms and sit back as I wait for it. Wait for her to tell me how being with Poppy is wrong, but Jesus still loves me. Deborah just looks at me, though, with that same infuriating, inscrutable look my mother gives me when I ask her a question she thinks I already know the answer to.

‘You know what happened outside the mini-mart tonight, don’t you, Ash?’

I blink at her, momentarily startled as I ask myself why she’s back to this.

‘You know that you were hit by that car. You know that was your body.’

‘No.’ It’s like being punched in the chest, over and over.

That’s all I can say.

No.

‘You died outside the mini-mart and you’re here because you were the last person to die on New Year’s Eve. You’re one of us now.’

I stare at her.

Where is here?

Who are these people?

I say the next words very carefully. ‘Is this heaven?’

‘It would be a bit shit if it was,’ Esen responds with a sour chuckle.

Deborah ignores her. ‘Not quite. The legend goes that the last person to die on New Year’s Eve becomes the grim reaper for that parish.’ She waits for me to look her in the eye before she says, ‘This year, that person is you.’

‘The grim what now?’ I blink at her, but there’s no hint of hesitation this time. Heat blooms in my cheeks as I feel Dev and Esen staring at me. With that, every bit of me is burning, beads of sweat bubbling up along my hairline. But Deborah just sits there, hands folded neatly in her lap.

‘The grim reaper.’ She licks her lips. ‘You’re a grim reaper.’

I wait for her to elaborate.

She doesn’t.

‘Wait.’ I can hear myself laughing again as everything swims out of focus.

I close my eyes and press my hand to my forehead until it passes.

When I open them, Deborah is still looking at me like this is a perfectly normal conversation.

‘Wait,’ I say again. ‘The grim reaper as in that dude with the black cloak and scythe?’

‘Not quite. I suppose that’s what most people imagine when they think about the grim reaper but, as always, the reality is far more mundane than the myth.’

‘Huh?’

‘Don’t worry, Ash.’ She chuckles lightly. ‘You won’t be required to wear a black cloak and carry a scythe.’

She’s so calm. Too calm. It only makes me more untethered. I curl my fingers around the edge of the sofa cushion beneath me as though I might float up to the ceiling if I don’t hold on to something.