Michael

Picture: Xanthurian

"So this is your collective is it? Your little support group?"

"What's left of it," said Gabe. "All of us that survived."

"We think," added Bekka. "There's always hope."

Michael snorted. "Is there? No matter how you struggle, you die. You might give Death a hell of a time trying to catch you, but he always wins. Trust me. I worked for him."

"And no matter how you try to ignore it, life goes on. Everyone leaves their mark here," said Gabe.

"And there's always heaven," whispered Bekka.

"Heaven?"

"Yes, Michael. Not even Death can keep God from-"

"Apparently he can. Because you know what, Bekka? If there is a God, which I'm damn sure there isn't, He ain't here. He's up in His royal easy chair watching us drop like flies. Laughing. Because this story won't have a happy ending. If angels can die, what can survive? We're alone in the universe, whether there's a God or not. Bekka," Michael's grey eyes drew her blue ones in,

"This is hell."