By Clemence Mauger
It all started the night I died. I know, I know, I'm being
super cliché, but it's true. I was your average girl,
freshman in college, my entire life ahead of me. But then,
a few too many drinks, a wrong turn home, and I ended up
the victim of a group of fucking frat boys who couldn't
get laid on their own. A gang rape and a good beating later,
I was left for dead in an alley. I lay there for what seemed
like an eternity before someone finally called the cops.
Then came the hospital. Hours of surgery to stop internal
bleeding, repair ruptured organs, all in attempt to save
my life were all in vain.
Time of death: 6:47 am.
Dying was painless physically, like a wave slowly receding,
until its existence was nothing more than a memory. Emotionally,
it was an entirely different story. I raged inside those
last few moments, I screamed and yelled, refusing to accept
that this would be my fate.
Do not go gently into that good night, rage, rage against
the dying of the light.
If I could have cried, an ocean of tears would have poured
out of me to flood the world with my sadness. Then, it all
went black.
All of a sudden, an explosion of life flowed through me,
repairing the damage that had been inflicted on my body.
I came to myself in the hospital morgue, with a man in hospital
scrubs busy coming inside of me. I stared up in disbelief…
I was dead! What the fuck was he doing fucking me? I had
heard of necrophilia, but you would never think it would
happen to you… Who knows? Maybe he had a rape victim
fetish…I felt that rage that had filled me the instant
before I died, and now it had a target. Too caught up in
his orgasm, the poor dick didn't even see me bring my hands
up around his throat. Gods, I felt so strong! I quickly
flipped around so that I was on top of him, and broke his
neck…
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