The endless darkness was driving her crazy. The thought of being stuck here forever made her want to rip her brain out just so she wouldn't have to feel anymore. But she didn't have a brain anymore—or anything else, for that matter. She floated amidst the nothingness in an incorporeal form. Sure, it resembled her body, but it was more like her soul—or at least that's what she assumed.
Stripped of everything except for the body her momma gave her, she resembled a haze, a construct that wasn't quite tangible. But at the same time, she felt solid. She could clap her hands, run her fingers through her long hair, or flip herself whichever way she wanted with her strange new ability to float—all without dissipating. Yet, she also felt like the slightest gust of wind could break her apart, scattering her essence, her consciousness, across the void until she disappeared entirely. But there was no wind here. There was nothing here.
And it was driving her crazy.
She didn't know how long she had been floating. It felt like an eternity. She didn't even know who she was or why she was here. Still, the feeling that she was waiting for something calmed her, so she floated aimlessly in the lightless void, her mind at ease. At first, she thought it was some strange dream, but the more time passed, the less likely that seemed. Was time even passing? She didn't know. Thinking about it felt like a waste of energy. Regardless, worrying about her perilous situation—if it was even perilous—would only send her spiraling into a fit of madness.
So she didn't.
For however long it was—centuries, minutes, or maybe just seconds—she floated in the void, her mind blank except for the hope that something, eventually, would change.
And eventually, something did.
Her eyes snapped open, though she hadn't realized they were closed. It was still endless darkness, but something was different. She couldn't see it, but she knew something—or someone—was there.
"Hello?" she called out, unsure if whatever it was could even understand her. To her surprise, a soothing voice, that sounded like it belonged to a young man, echoed from everywhere at once, answering her hesitant greeting with a simple:
"Hi."
Warmth bloomed inside her chest, a strange, inexplicable comfort. "Are you the one I've been waiting for?" she asked, her voice tinged with excitement.
"Yes," the voice replied firmly, its tone almost willing her to believe.
She crossed her arms and spun lazily in the air—upside down, then right side up again, though in the void, it was impossible to tell which was which. Carefully, she asked, "Are you really here? Why can't I see you?"
Doubt crept in as another thought struck her: Was this voice real, or was she imagining it? What if she really was going crazy? As if reading her mind, the voice quickly reassured her:
"Rest assured, I am real."
She wanted to believe, but a trace of doubt lingered. "Then why can't I see you?"
"Mortals are not allowed to see our true forms."
Mortals. Was it referring to her as a mortal? And if so, did that mean it wasn't one?
"I am not a mortal," the voice confirmed before she could ask.
"What are you... if I may ask?" The words came out awkwardly.
A rich laughter rolled through the void like thunder. But it wasn't frightening—it was pleasant, even soothing.
"I am a god," the voice said, as if it were obvious. "The god of luck."
She didn't respond.
"I'm sorry for keeping you waiting," the god continued. "I had to cover my tracks."
"Cover your tracks?"
"Yes. You see... I might have accidentally caused your death before your time."
"Oh. I see." The words slipped out before she could think about them. Then the realization hit. "Wait, what?!"
"I know you're angry, but—"
"I'm not angry." She said nonchalantly.
The voice fell silent.
"...Are you still there?" she asked, uncertain.
"Yes," the god replied, though it sounded... strained.
After a beat of awkward silence, she added, "I don't really remember anything—just vague feelings about how things were. So it doesn't mean much to me that I am dead."
Still, the god didn't respond.
"Hey," she said, growing irritated, "don't tell me you left already."
Just as frustration began to simmer, the void shifted again. The darkness in front of her distorted, folding in on itself. A golden glow spilled from the unfurling fabric of space.
It was... her.
"What the heck!" She jerked back as her mirror image appeared before her.
The double stared at her, unblinking, as if analyzing her. It sent a shiver up her spine.
"You... you—" she stammered. "You're me."
"Yes," the figure said.
The voice was familiar. She gasped as she realized.
"Mr. God?"
"Mr. who?"
"You! Mr. God—the voice."
"Oh. Yes, it's me."
"Why do you look like me?"
"Well, I couldn't show you my true form, so I figured I'd mirror yours. Besides, now we can talk face-to-face."
She didn't know how to feel about talking to her naked self. The god—even if he... she?...
'I'll just call him a he because of the voice.'
Even if he had taken her form, his version looked more solid, tangible compared to her hazy, incorporeal state. Her blue eyes stared back at her. Her golden hair rested on her shoulders. Her lips, her skin... everything about him felt unsettlingly familiar.
The only difference was the golden light emanating from his skin.
The god seemed to notice her discomfort. A look of realization crossed his face, and with a snap of his fingers, clothes appeared on his form—a white blouse and jeans, complete with shoes.
"Sorry. I hear mortals are particular about nudity," he said apologetically.
She wanted to retort—it wasn't the nakedness that made her uncomfortable. It was talking to someone wearing her face. But how could she explain that? She couldn't even wrap her mind around the idea yet.
The god floated closer. She tensed but didn't move as he cupped her cheeks, looking into her eyes.
"I forget," he murmured, "mortals need a jolt to bring their memories back online after death."
Warmth radiated from his hands, spreading from her cheeks to her entire body. His soothing voice whispered a single word:
"Remember."
It was like tumbling down a hill, or free falling from the sky, or maybe more like drowning in a hurricane. Fragments of her life flashed before her eyes, piecing themselves together. It was overwhelming, unstoppable.
The last thing she saw was a truck—a massive truck—falling from the sky, slamming into her with the force of a thousand hammers.
And then everything went black.
She pushed the god away, finding herself back in the void. The memories... the feelings...
Hugging her knees to her chest, she tried to find solace. But it didn't come.
Her life had been so unfair. Just when she'd finally carved out some semblance of happiness, she'd been crushed—like a bug on the sidewalk.
And she knew, with absolute certainty, that no one had mourned her.
"Sofia."
The god's voice broke through her thoughts. That was her name. She remembered now.
And she felt empty as hopelessness settled in.