Sector 2

Jess Whales thought she had Hell all figured out. She had her condo, her daily routine, her best friend, and her knowledge of the place. She knew not to venture to Sector 4, where the evilest of the evil resided. She mostly ignored Sector 2, where the people who were good (but not good enough) lived. Sector 1, where the crème de la crème resided, was completely out of reach. She was fine in Sector 3. Hell, she'd even come to like it.

That is, until Jeremiah Williams showed up. She's never expected to have to think about him again, much less show him around his Afterlife. She hadn't given him a second thought since she left home, her sophomore year of high school.

Yet, there he was. And there she was. And she knew that there was no way in Hell their encounter would end without heartbreak of some shape or form.

***Note: If you couldn't tell by the fact that I'm writing a story literally set in Hell, there WILL be language in this story. Don't say I didn't want you.


2. Day 845

"You can stop with the staring. You might be wondering what the Hell- Ha! Get it?- I did to get stuck in Sector 3. Why aren't I in Sector 2, if it's pretty easy to get there? Come on, you know the answer. You knew me in life. You remember what I was like, don't you? I wasn't exactly pleasant. 

But, yeah. I guess even my unpleasantness wouldn't've been enough to land me down here. Wanna know the real reason? Jason Westman.

That stupid son of a bitch. 

Stop thinking too hard. You're going to get a migraine. Don't think about this stuff, it's easier if you just listen. 

Don't worry too much. You always worry so much. Just go with the flow. You'll make friends; I did, anyways. I've even got a bestie! I know, right! I never had one of those in real life; who would've guessed that after death, I'd end up with my very own Brooks! Henry Brooks? I'll introduce you two later. Anyways, since we're so similar, we're best friends. Well, as close as you can get to best friends when you're literally living in Hell. 

Um... It's getting kinda hard to answer questions that you aren't even asking. Maybe you could ask a question or two? Steer the conversation? No? Okay. Um... 

It's day 845. It's been over two years. Come on, can't you at least nod if I'm going in the right direction? Okay, I'll say something, and if you want to talk about it, nod. Okay? Great. So... wanna talk about... 

The vegans? No, didn't think so. Ooh! What about the PhD holders who rescue starving orphan babies? Fine, I'll admit, they're pretty cool. 'Bout as cool as a fucking oven. Wanna hear about the 2nd Sector high school star students, the nerds who got scholarships and the football players who won championships? Still nope? 

Jeez. You could crack a smile, every now and again. Don't have to be so somber. 

God, Jer, what do you wanna talk about? Me? Oh, shit, you actually wanna hear about me? Um... Okay. Uh... you're probably wondering how a badass, 18 year old girl like me ended up in the 3rd Sector of the not-so-hellish-Hell. I'm just gonna say. It's not that complicated of a story. 

As you could imagine, it all started with Jason Westman. 

Jason Westman. Even his name is hot, right? Rolls right off the tongue. That's what I thought, as a... What was I? A sophomore, right? I was all his, and God, I thought he was all mine. Basically, he's the reason I'm here. 

Told you it was simple. Okay, fine. Maybe I owe you a bit more explanation than that. You know, since you're new here, and all? Okay. I wasn't the only one who liked his name. Well, to be more specific, him. Guess who else thought he was a dream-boat? Kelsey Clarke. Remember her? Yeah, we were best friends. Key word: were

Wanna know the only reason I visit the 4th Sector, every now and again? I keep hoping I'll see her stupid face. I'd love to see her getting chased by the Demons. I'd love to see her being dipped in lava, her face melting off. I've seen crueler punishments. No, I haven't seen her. 

Unfortunately, the biggest reality is that she'll be here. With me. In 3rd. Sure, she was a backstabbing bitch of an ex-best friend, but it's not like she's a murderer or anything. Or a vegan. 

Man, I hate vegans. Whatever. I'm getting sidetracked. Back to my story. You've read the cliché's, right? I mean, you went to high school, after all. So I'm assuming you have a clue what happened. At least, you can imagine, if you didn't already hear the story. You didn't? Jesus, you really were a pariah, weren't you? 

Anyways, what happened was I caught that skinny, blonde, supermodel of a snake sucking the face right off of Mr. Jason Westman. Literally, the day after we went to Prom together. Like, seriously? How much of an ass can he be? Ugh. I'm sorry. I'm rambling again. 

But I never told you what happened afterwards. You all thought that I ran away, right? Well, I did. I guess you were right. Sort of. I did run away. But you thought that I ran away and went missing, right? Yeah. Once again, sort of right. I did run away and go missing. For a while. You never heard that I died. Did you even know that I died? Oh, you did. How'd you know? 

Never mind. That's irrelevant. We don't have to talk about my death. You don't need to know the details. 

Let's talk about you. Things don't always go as planned, now, do they? I mean, I'm sure you didn't plan on dying at the ripe old age of 20, now, did you? 

Okay, okay. I'm sorry. No need to look so down. Basically, we don't get a lot of 2nd Class visitors down here. Okay? Keep it on the down-low. Look, I'm sorry you're dead, and all, but if you make a scene, you're going to get yourself killed. No, you can't literally get killed here. Jeez, it's an expression! Take a joke! 

Anyways, yeah. Welcome to the Afterlife. AfterDeath? Whatever. Basically, I've been dead for over two years. You've been dead for a day or two. No, of course I don't know how you died. No, dumbass, you'll have to tell me. 

Okay, I can't keep reading expressions forever, idiot. You'll have to use words, eventually. 

No, not now. It's getting dark. Yes, dark is bad! And, yes, there are days and nights, here. Okay, listen, dumbass. If you're not back in your Sector by sundown, you're stuck here. Yes, it does suck to be stuck here. Get your ass back to the 2nd Sector." 

With a forlorn smile, and a nervous hand run through his hair, he turns to the door. I sigh, realizing my rant may have been a little much. 

"Hey, Jer?" I ask. "You doing okay?" 

I'm not exactly expecting a response, as the only reaction I've gotten from him in the brief encounter we've had together were his facial expressions. God, his beautiful facial expressions. 

He nods. 

"I'm sorry you died, Jer," I say sincerely. He bites his lip nervously, glancing at the ground. 

"Yeah," he says. "Me, too." 

I look at him expectantly. "Shoo!" I say, making a shooing motion with my hands. He walks towards the door, his feet dragging. 

"Meet me at the wall, tomorrow," I say. 

He turns back to me and frowns. "Why not here?" 

I sigh. He just doesn't get it, does he? "Jer, you're not supposed to be here. You're supposed to stay in Sector 2, with the rest of the good people. You can't be here," I warn. 

"But you're here. How bad can it be?" Back in my high school days, my cheeks would've flushed a vibrant red, but my anger disguises my flattery. 

"It's pretty hellish, Jer." 

He bites his lip again. I'm surprised he isn't tasting blood, by now. 

"Okay, then. I'll see you tomorrow," he says, turning on his heel and making a final escape from my room. 

I watch as the sun begins to fall over the fiery hills in Sector 4. 

"Run!" I order him, gesturing towards the sun. I nod in the direction of Sector 2, just down the path from here. He sets his pace at a jog and crosses the thick red line on the floor before the last sliver of sunlight falls underneath the blanket of mountain. 

I stare at the fat red line on the ground. I'm lucky enough to be near the border, because apparently my lifetime of sins weren't enough to land me closer to Sector 4. The Sectors work like a spectrum, with the big, fat red line in the middle. I'm just over the line, stuck in Sector 3. 

I wish I could cross that line. 

What the fuck? I've never wanted to cross that line before. In all my eight hundred and forty five days in Sector 3, I've never wished for a different Sector. Hell, I'm fine here. That son of a bitch doesn't get to come waltzing into my death and ruin everything the day he shows up. I'm not a completely terrible person; I'll answer his questions, but sooner or later he'll have to accept the reality that I'm here and he's there. He'll have to accept that down here, we aren't friends. We can't be friends. 



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