He was sobbing. He knew that she would understand.
"YOU SICK FUCKS!" Jack screamed to the ceiling, holding the corpse of his bleeding wife.
He had to leave. There's no point wallowing in the past. He has to find out how to get out of here. He gently picked up Penny, looking at her face which appeared forty years older. Her eyes were reeled back, with strawberry veins following her hidden pupils, and her mouth was hanging open. It appeared almost black inside, instead of the standard, haunchy pink or red. Her tongue seemed to come to a point, and her teeth were just a bit sharper than Jack remembered them being. He gently placed her in the middle of their bed (which was beautifully and perfectly made). Looking at her laying gracefully on the perfect bed made Jack think of Snow White. With slight hesitation, Jack leaned over and kissed her purple lips (maybe he was even half expecting something to happen). Nothing happened, and he blinked any semblance of surprise away.
"You just got over her," he told himself. "You can't slip into that grievance again." He gently slapped his cheek, hoping to ground him in whatever this reality entailed, and he pinched his eyes tightly, hoping to evaporate any tears left behind.
Huffing, he returned to the bathroom, noticing blood on the tile from his head.
Oh yeah, his head. His head was bleeding too. It didn't hurt anymore. To be honest, it almost felt like he just had special effects makeup on his head. He knew this wasn't the case though, as he had an excruciating headache to complement the injury.
He looked at himself in the mirror, grasping the sink firmly. Staring, eye to eye with his reflection like he was trying to intimidate himself.
"WARDEN!?" He screamed into it. He didn't know if that would work, but wherever Jack seemed to be, it seemed like anything was worth a shot.
Nothing.
Was he just trapped here? Was he going to live his life with invasive thought parasites and shells of the people he used to know? Was he just going to live alongside carbon copies of his friends and family and loved ones? Maybe he shouldn't have shot Penny in that case.
"It's okay," Penny put a hand on Jack's shoulder. "Everything will be okay."
Jack grasped her hand. "Fuck, what are we gonna do?" he muttered.
"It's up to you, but eternality doesn't seem very fun."
"Eternality? Is this like prison purgatory?"
"No, not at all, but I know how you feel about being stuck in one place forever, Jack." She was quite monotone.
How did he feel about the matter? Moreso, how does Penny know how he feels. It isn't like Jack has had a proper discussion with his wife about his opinions on eternities and immortality and such. He wasn't really into talking existentialism. He thought that it depressed his conversational partners and dulled the conversation. Only top scholars can talk existentialism with each other without coming off incredibly depressing (or pretentious for that matter).
"Yeah," he responded quietly. "It gives you a lot of time to reflect on yourself. I was prepared for that when I was..."
"Was what, Jack?" She tightened her grip on his shoulder. It was barely noticeable, but Jack noticed it.
Jack didn't answer her. He then turned from the bathroom mirror to come eye to eye with his love. She was in a night slip, not the black evening dress.
"I love you." Jack said, clearly.
"Jack, do you really feel that way about eternality?" was all she said in response.
He pushed her aside and exited the bathroom. Penny's corpse was still lying lifeless in the middle of the neatly made bed, dried blood engulfing her face.
Penny came up from behind Jack and hugged him. He could feel her warm breath against his back.
"Penny, I've missed you." He said, clutching her interlaced fingers at his chest.