Picturing the scar that must be somewhere near my sternum, I touch my chest and find a soft white shirt that definitely isn’t mine. When I look down at the matching bottoms I’m wearing, I wonder what they’ve done with the rest of my things, and if my black dress was covered in too much blood to bother keeping.

The woman tilts her head. “Do you know what your name is?”

“Nami. Nami Miyamoto.” I pause, the worry starting to build like an icy chill across my skin. “My parents are Takeshi and Claire. Did anyone find my bag? Did the doctors know who to contact?” I feel myself flinch at the ache spreading through my skull, but I try to focus. However bad it is, I need to know the truth. “How long have I been here?”

“Not long, Nami,” she replies, her voice so much like a melody. Rehearsed and meant to charm.

I find her eyes. They’re blue, but there’s a brightness to them that’s unnatural. Like they’re in super-enhanced high definition. And then I realize her skin is like that too: luminescent and too perfect.

I let out a breath, but I can’t feel any warmth on my lips.

I remember the way the gunshot sounded like an echo, miles and miles away from me, and the way it felt like I was falling for an eternity, and how I knew without any doubt what was happening to me before I’d even hit the floor.

“I died.” I don’t need the woman to say anything. I know it’s the truth.

She gives another tight smile and blinks carefully. “It’s easier to let people remember on their own. It makes them feel like they’re more in control.”

There are too many faces flashing through my mind—my parents, Mei, Finn, Lucy, the man in the black mask—but it’s impossible to focus on any of them for more than a sliver of a moment. “Is death supposed to hurt this much?” And I point to my head, in case she misunderstands my meaning. I haven’t had time to let my heart ache yet. “I feel like my brain is trying to break out of my skull.”

She opens her palm back up to reveal the white pill. “This will help.”

I lift my eyebrows. “They have Tylenol in the afterlife?”

Her smile doesn’t reach her eyes. “We find it’s less overwhelming if we present new concepts in familiar ways.” She holds the pill closer to me. “This will allow you to finish your transition from death into the afterlife. Your pain will vanish. Your consciousness will find peace. And you can proceed to the paradise that awaits you outside these walls.”

My mouth feels like it’s full of cotton. My brain feels that way too. “So is this, like, heaven or something?”