"Sh*t."
It was bound to happen, only a matter of time, but that didn't make it any easier. Sam didn't want to die.
Bang.
A bullet flew past his head, crashing into the brick wall ahead. He knew he didn't have much time left, the wound in his leg was gushing blood and he was starting to slow. He glanced behind him and saw a man lining up the shot with his pistol. The gun fired but Sam heard nothing, he saw nothing. He only felt, felt his life fading away as the bullet went deeper and deeper into his head. His empty body collapsed and his consciousness started to fade into nothingness.
There was no afterlife, no one waiting to guide him towards anything, just darkness. He shouted out into the void but even he could not hear a word he uttered. Finally he realized that there is nothing after life, ' I just need to give up'. As Sam began to close his eyes for the final time a green spectral flame burst into life.
It was not a beautiful flame but one that gave off the stink of death, it seemed as if the fire was the god of death. The flame was green, but when he looked at it he saw a deep nothingness hidden within the flame. Thousands of souls were reflected in the fire all screaming in silent pain. The fire flickered suddenly, then it expanded as a blood red hand pushed its way through.
The hand was massive, or maybe it was tiny, there was nothing to base its size off of as it was the only thing he could see. The hand was creepy covered in red scales but something about it was pulling him closer. As he approached he saw that the hand had large claws covered in what he assumed to be blood. He continued his approach, safe in his assumption that he was well and truly dead. Nothing could hurt him, but as soon as he was close enough the hand grabbed him and pulled him into the green fire. As he entered the blaze a flood of memories washed over him and his consciousness left him once again.
Sam saw his father die again, stabbed to death by a junkie. The flood of emotions that overcame him caused him to wipe his eyes and when he looked back he saw another familiar scene. It was his mother and sister, looking weak and tired sharing a single ham sandwich. He remembered that day well because it was the day he decided to join a gang. He knew it was wrong but it was the only way he could keep his family fed and it offered a semblance of protection in their violence filled neighborhood. Sure enough there he was accepting the gang's colors and being given a gun. He had hated the weapon, it always felt so cold and dangerous, but he always had it on him. One could never know when they would need protection.
The next memory almost caused Sam to look away, it was when he first used that awful weapon. He saw himself in a fit of rage fire the gun, once, twice and again and again until the thing was empty. The person he killed was his best friend, obviously he wasn't a very good friend, but even still the painful memory hurt him. The person he thought was his friend continually used him as bait and never lifted a finger to help. That person, what was his name. He could not remember and went back to the memory. This particular time his ex best friend had put him in a particularly dangerous situation and had tried to use him as a meat shield when the bullets started flying. After they had escaped his friend shot at him screaming " you f*cked it up, I was this close to getting away". The bullet his friend shot had hit his leg but before his friend could pull the trigger another time he had unloaded his clip. He closed his eyes overcome by conflicting emotions, rage, sorrow, pity.
The next time Sam opened his eyes he saw himself on the day he died. He had just finished distributing his wares and decided to take a shortcut home. He usually would not go this route because it led through an enemy gang's turf but his desire to see his sister clouded his judgement. After all he needed to spend some time with her on her birthday. As he went into the alley imagining his sister's face when he gave her the cake he had specially made for her a voice made his heart sink.
"What the hell is a SLs brat doing in our territory." It was the man who killed him, a member of a rival gang. Sam whirled around, pulled out his gun and fired a few shots before taking off running. His aim was awful as he was extremely panicked and the bullets weren't even close. The man laughed and fired his gun a couple of times. The man's aim wasn't very good either but one of the bullets managed to hit Sam's gun knocking it out of his hand. The man sneered, seeing his opponent helpless. This was where it ended, Sam had tried to run but the old wound his friend had given him opened up and slowed him down. As he watched the bullet take his life his vision whitened out.
When things came back into focus he saw the pale, deathly green flames and the clawed, scaled hand wrapped around his waist.
'I wonder where I am going, maybe there is an afterlife after all.'
Then the flames disappeared and his surroundings began to come into focus. They looked like nothing he had ever seen before.
" Welcome."
A powerful, gravely voice intoned. Sam looked up to see the owner of the red hand and he almost passed out again.