It isn't an easy thing, to laugh in the face of death. Think of nothing but your freedom from this world of pain, think of nothing but happiness at your escape. Think of nothing and just laugh.

But laughing is the very last thing on your mind when you're struggling to even breathe. When your mind is wallowing in memories of the past, and when you're thinking of your future, of what could have been. When you know you're bound to hell for all eternity. When the hell hounds are coming.

You hear a twig snap. It echoes for miles, ringing in your ears, stretching over your desolate surroundings. You close your eyes, and God you so want to laugh... instead a single tear falls down your face, burning your frozen skin as it goes.

You think of Sammy. Your baby brother. The poor boy you left behind with nothing but your car, your necklace and a note 'with love'. You promised him you'd be beside him all night, promised the two of you would spend one last hour together before you died. Another promise broken, another promise you couldn't bear to face up to. It seems the only promise you've ever kept is this one - dying before any harm came to him.

You think of your parents, resting in peace. You think of how much you love them, how much you'd give just to see them again. What would have happened if your mom had never died and if things would be different if you weren't so much like your father. Willing to give up your soul for somebody you loved. What a weakness. What a strength?

Your heart skips a beat at the low growl behind you. This is it. Not long left now.

You think of the future, of a time that could have been, but never would be. You think of a wife and children. Grandchildren, perhaps. Maybe a job - a real job. But there's nothing left for you. Only the hope that Sam will get everything he always wanted, everything he deserved. A life, not merely an existence. It's what you've always hoped for.

You feel immense pain. Something tearing through your skin, through your body, and yet somehow you're separated from it. Your body doesn't feel like your own, your pain doesn't feel real. You hear your own screams, but they're not escaping from your own lips. And somehow you know. You're dead. You've left your body, moved on. You're light-headed and dizzy, you feel like you're spinning but you know you're standing still. There's no ground below, and yet you can feel that there's something there...

You look up to a door. Not a light at the end of the tunnel. Not hellfire. Just a door. And even though you're dead you haven't lost your touch. You can hazard a pretty good guess as to where it leads, and you're sure as hell it isn’t your door to freedom.

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