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This story contains references to death and abuse.

“There is one logical way of solving the riddle: to argue that there is a single omnipotent God who created the entire universe - and He’s evil” - Yuval Noad Harari, Sapiens: A Brief History of Humankind

I was dead. I knew I was because I remembered it happening. I remember my husband coming home drunk, again. I remember running to the kitchen as he stormed towards me with fury in his eyes. I remember thinking 'I'll protect myself with the butcher knife'. I remember hesitating to do anything with the knife other than hold it. I made threats we both knew I would never fulfil. I remember him taking the knife, I remember him plunging it into me while he called me "a stupid bitch". I remember falling to the floor and I remember the world slowly going quiet. I remember the sense of relief that it had finally happened and I didn't have to fear it anymore.

On the insides of my eyelids a series of images flashed before me. My abusive parents that still believed they did the best they could. My friends who knew where the bruises came from, but had given up on telling me to leave him. The look of absolute pity from the women's shelter receptionist when I checked out after only a night because she knew exactly where I was going and what I was returning to.

I watched the images for what felt like an eternity before it even occurred to me to open my eyes. With a flutter I opened them and was met with brown. A chocolate brown that seemed slightly worn out. I slowly sat up and was surprised with how easily I moved. I scanned the room and couldn't understand what I was seeing, mainly because I was still...seeing. I looked down to see that I was on a leather couch of exquisite quality. Running my hand on the material was the softest thing I had ever felt. I was in what seemed to be a candle lit library.

'If I'm not dead then shouldn't I be in a hospital?' I thought to myself. Why would my husband bring me to a library? I swung my feet off the couch and tiptoed to the books on the wall. Halfway across the room I remember all the other times my husband and I had had an...altercation, as the nurses would call it. I recalled sitting in the shower with the water running over me hoping to wash away the shame. I touched where the knife had pierced me and felt nothing. I lifted my shirt to look at what should have been a gash on my stomach, still nothing. 

"You're awake" a feminine voice from behind me says. I spin around to see no one there.

"Hmm?" the voice ponders from the other side of the room.

"Wh-who's there" I say as sternly as possible, still turning around in all directions to find the other person.

"What about this voice?" the voice says or potentially another person says because now their voice is clearly a man. Still in the centre of the room I see a door and rush to it hoping to catch the person in the hallway. Peering out the hallway is dark and seemingly endless. Perfect to conceal yourself, but the voice definitely came from in the room.

"Right, masculine it is then. But who to choose from?" the voice said.

"How about this?" they continued as I stepped back into the room a man appeared behind me. Not just a man, a familiar man.

"...Mr Lawrence?" I asked more confused than ever.

"Your kindergarten teacher? Really?" Mr Lawrence explained with a sceptical look. He then laughed and sat down on a leather seat that had appeared opposite the couch. "I suppose it will have to do" he said, crossing his legs and gesturing for me to return to the sofa. 

"Mr Lawrence" I repeated, "what are you doing here? Where am I?" I asked frantically. I stood in the doorway as Mr Lawrence held his hand out at the empty sofa. 

"If you wouldn't mind?" he eventually said, sounding impatient. I scurried over to the couch and quickly sat down. We sat in silence for a few moments before Mr Lawrence started drinking from a cup of tea that appeared on a table next to him that wasn't there moments before.

"Now let's get started. Valerie Bastion, only made it to 35 years of age. Do you want to guess where you are?" Mr Lawrence said after taking an extended sip.

"I think I died" I said, looking both at him and still looking around the room.

"Correct my dear. You are indeed dead" he said with a smile behind his cup.

"So this is Heaven?" I asked hesitantly. The man put his cup down and stared at me for a moment.

"No Valerie, this isn't Heaven" he said and picked back up his freshly filled cup. My heart, or whatever my body was now, sank.

"This also isn't Hell" he added.

"Then..." I said quietly not really sure what or how I felt. Was I in some sort of limbo? Did I need to atone for my sins? Did I even believe in such a thing?

"Why don't you guess?" Mr Lawrence said standing and walking behind me on the couch. He placed his hands on my shoulders and seemed to be waiting. I didn't have an answer. I looked over and the side table with the tea cup had vanished.

"Is this a dream?" I asked suddenly realising the absurdity of appearing and disappearing tea.

"We've already established that you're dead" he said with a sigh. He walked over to the shelf and removed a book from the wall. He brought it back and handed it to me. It was a beautifully ornate book with what appeared to be gold leaf decoration. I looked at the book spine and while I knew there were words I couldn't make them out. It was written in a language I'd never seen before. I ran my fingers over the letters and instantly knew what it said.

"The Life of Valerie Bastion" I whispered.

"Correct again" Mr Lawrence said surprisingly. I looked up and now he was across the room. I opened the book and...did you ever play with those pop up storybooks as a child? This was a pop up book of my life. Scenes depicted in cardboard and paper. My birth, my childhood, adolescence, my job, my friends, my siblings, my parents, my dogs, my husband, our wedding, our marriage, my death. As I flipped through the book none of it made sense. The book ended halfway through with many, many blank pages at the end. The final craftwork of my life was me sitting in a library with a woman. She had long brown hair and a peach summer dress on.

"Stephanie?" I said more so to myself.

"I thought the form of your best friend on Earth would be more pleasing to you, but alas you seem to prefer Mr Lawrence" Mr Lawrence said. He was now once again sitting opposite me. I contemplated what he had just said. I thought about the book in my hands. I tried to soak it all in, but nothing was clicking. None of it made sense.

"Who are you?" I asked and Mr Lawrence sat silently staring at me as I leaned forward to ask my follow up question.

"Are you God?"

"Yes" he said after a brief pause.

"But, this isn't Heaven?"

"No," he said before handing me another, much larger, ornate book. I took the book with two hands and carefully placed my life book on the couch next to me. Unlike my cartoonish popups this book had life depictions done in skilful watercolour paint. The pages showed the life of a being I can't describe, doing things I can't describe. It seemed to exist in a world where the laws of ours didn't apply. There were things, however, that stuck out to me. I could see the Earth. I could see our galaxy. I could make out the evolution of people. Several pages showed beautifully detailed paintings of animals. It took me a few pages to realise that they were all extinct. Suddenly a page kept on repeating every few pages. It was a being sitting in this room with a human.

I looked up at Mr Lawrence and he smiled. I flicked to the last page of the book and saw myself sitting across from Mr Lawrence. In the exact poses we were in now. I looked up at him and he nodded for me to look back down at the book. Slowly my eyes rolled back down and now the figure in the painting was staring at Mr Lawrence. The figure then slowly dropped the book and her mouth flew open in terror.

Sitting across from me Mr Lawrence's smile grew wider as his painting came true. I couldn't stop screaming, even when my lungs told me I had run out of air.

"Valerie," Mr Lawrence said. "Valerie, please" he repeated a few times when I wouldn't stop screaming. I put my head in my hands and drew in deep breaths. It was then I noticed the large book on the floor was gone. I looked beside me and my book was gone too.

"Now" he said, pulling a small leather bound notebook. I had expected the same gold leaf detailing, but the cover was bare.  "Let's see, what is your most significant memory?" he asked holding a pen that definitely was not there before.

Within an instant my mind flooded with pictures and they cycled through until I could select the first one. I was lying in my room pretending to be asleep while my mother continued her tirade. I had done something wrong, it was so long ago I couldn't remember. I did remember the yelling going for hours and the general gist was that I was a terrible daughter and person. I remembered the fear, no not fear, finality. I believed that my life would always be this way. Someone standing on the outside of my door waiting to pounce. Waiting to twist my words. Waiting to throw my mistakes at me like daggers. Waiting to prove that I wasn't worth the precious gift of life that I had been given.

I snapped out of the memory and turned to Mr Lawrence. He was scribbling in his notebook, glancing up occasionally. I went to ask him what he was doing when he interrupted.

"Funny what shapes a mind. Imagine all the things that had to happen in the universe for you to end up in that house. The stars that had to explode at the exact right moment to create your solar system. Or, let's look at it in a more localised situation: picture the humans that both lived and died at the precise moments throughout history" he chuckled to himself.

"Alright. Describe the colour yellow" he said after regaining his composure.

I sat there silently for a moment unsure of how to answer. What did the colour yellow have to do with what was happening to me? Was any of this actually happening? It definitely could be a dream.

"This isn't a dream Valarie" Mr Lawrence said when I failed to give him an answer.

"What are you going to do to me?" I asked through panicked breaths.

"You've already done it," Mr Lawrence said and gestured behind me. "This has been a pleasure Valerie, but you really must be going now. You see, I have another guest arriving soon and you bore me."

I turned to look behind me and a black door had appeared in the room. Mr Lawrence opened the door and held his arm out for me to go through. I stood up, but I'm not sure why. The couch behind me disappeared and I was compelled to walk towards the door.

"Where will it take me?" I asked Mr Lawrence.

"Absolutely nowhere" he responds. Looking back over my shoulder the library candles slowly dimmed. Although I can't stop myself from going through, I knew I had to ask one last question.  

"Why was I here?" I asked just before I step through the door. "Of all the people on the planet, why did you bring me wherever this is? What was the point?"

"I prefer to meet the extremely sad ones" he says, his face darkening while his smile never falters. Standing in complete darkness I could do nothing but watch as the door shut in front of me.