The memory of those final moments on the road was like a blur caught in a broken mirror—fragmented and incomprehensible. Riley remembered the shriek of tires, the weightless moment of impact, and the awful, irrevocable certainty of death.

Then… nothing.

Her eyes snapped open to a world that didn't make sense. Blinding white lights seared her vision as the sterile, clinical scent of antiseptic filled her nose. She tried to lift her head, but nausea surged through her body, forcing her to remain still. A distant, rhythmic hum reverberated through the room like a machine breathing for her.

Disoriented, Riley blinked hard and sat up. The space around her was a featureless white chamber with smooth walls and no visible seams. A faint blue light pulsed around the edges of the ceiling, giving the room an unearthly glow. Five other people were scattered across the space, some stirring, some still, their expressions a mix of confusion and fear.

"Where… where am I?" she muttered, her voice cracking.

"That's the big question, isn't it?" a voice replied. Riley turned to see a young man crouched nearby, peering at her over a pair of thick glasses. His jet-black hair fell in a sharp undercut that brushed against his neck. He smiled faintly, though his eyes betrayed his unease.

"Can you understand me?" he asked.

"Yes," Riley said, though her voice was shaky. "Perfectly."

"That's weird," the man replied. "I'm Shen. I don't speak English. My native language is Mandarin, but here I am, understanding every word you say."

"What's going on?" Riley demanded, her breath quickening. "Where are we? Why—"

"Hey, relax," Shen interrupted, holding up his hands in a calming gesture. "Trust me, you're not the only one confused. Take a breath. You're okay. Sort of."

As Riley's senses adjusted, she became more aware of her surroundings—and the others in the room. One by one, they began to stir, their voices mixing into a cacophony of questions.

"Where the hell am I?" A girl with purple highlights in her hair stood up, rubbing her temples. Her voice was sharp, commanding attention. "What is this place?"

Another figure groaned nearby, a man with a deep, furrowed brow. He leaned against the wall, his muscles taut with tension as he surveyed the room. "This doesn't look like heaven, that's for sure," he muttered.

Shen gestured to Riley to follow him, then raised his voice to address the group. "Alright, since we're all here and breathing, let's try to get some basics down. First off, my name is Shen Zixin. I think we're all dead."

"Dead?" the girl with purple hair scoffed. "What do you mean 'dead'? We're standing here, aren't we? I feel very much alive." She gestured around her. "What kind of afterlife looks like this?"

"Let's find out," Shen said, turning to each person in turn. "You first."

The girl crossed her arms, annoyed but cooperative. "Dana Reinder. I'm Dutch. And yeah, I guess I could've died—last thing I remember was falling asleep at the wheel." Her tone softened as the admission escaped her lips.

"Hayazaki," another voice cut in. A wiry young man with tousled hair raised his hand. "Japanese. I… uh, I was messing around with some faulty wires on my gaming setup. Guess that didn't end well."

Dana rolled her eyes. "Real smart."

The tall, brooding man who had leaned against the wall straightened. "Kayode Adegoke," he said, his voice steady. "I'm Nigerian. Last thing I remember is…" He hesitated, his face tightening. "Doesn't matter. I'm here now."

The next to speak was a soft-spoken woman with her head resting on her knees. "Angela Cortez," she murmured in heavily accented English. "Spain. A bad fall… I think."

The last member of the group was a wide-eyed man who had been inspecting the far corner of the room. He turned suddenly, as if surprised they were looking at him. "Surya Nababan," he said, his words halting but clear. "Indonesia. I was... I don't remember." His gaze lingered on the glowing lights embedded in the walls. "This place is strange."

Shen nodded, then turned to Riley. "Your turn."

"Riley Jackson," she said, swallowing hard. "American. And yeah, I guess I died too. Car accident."

A heavy silence filled the room as everyone absorbed the shared realization. They had all died, and yet they were here—alive, speaking, breathing.

"This still doesn't make sense," Dana muttered. "If this is some kind of afterlife, where's the divine judgment? Or the fire and brimstone? Or, I don't know, anything?"

"Maybe this is the fire and brimstone," Kayode said dryly, gesturing at the blank walls. "An eternity of sterile nothingness."

"Well, that's depressing," Hayazaki muttered, earning a faint laugh from Angela.

"So, we're all dead, right?" she stated bluntly, her gaze scanning the room. "We messed up and now we're here, somehow understanding each other despite the language barrier. This must be some kind of afterlife, but what kind?"

The Nigerian man scoffed at her concern, prompting a sharp retort. "What's so funny?" she challenged him. "If I'm in hell, you're here with me, pal."

The Nigerian's expression turned serious. He snapped at the Indonesian, who was still exploring the room. "You! Busy snooping around. What do you think this is? Heaven, hell, or something else entirely?"

The Indonesian, caught off guard, was crouching near a clock-like device. He muttered something about a pendulum before realizing everyone was staring at him.

"Oh!" he exclaimed. "You're talking to me?"

"You're the only Indonesian here," the Nigerian pointed out.

"Then call me by my name," the Indonesian replied.

"Whoa, things are getting a little tense," Hayazaki interjected, his quiet presence almost invisible. "Maybe we should chill until we figure out where we are and what happened. Right, Surya?"

"You remembered my name?" Surya replied, surprised.

"Of course," Hayazaki confirmed, his statement met with a mix of smiles and eye rolls. "So, what do you know about this place? Where are we?"

"I can't say for sure," Surya admitted. "But one thing's clear: there's no food, no bathroom, just that single bed in the other room, and the only door is sealed shut."

"So, heaven or hell?" Dana inquired

"Well, to answer your question" Surya responded to Dana's question, "I'm not too sure of what qualifies as heaven or hell because this place definitely does not meet the criteria"

"But one undeniable fact is that we're trapped in a tiny space with no means of sustenance. We're screwed". 

"So hell it is" Dana said.