Willem woke in a snow-white room that seemed to expand endlessly in all directions, and yet, if you were to walk, you'd get nowhere. The only furniture in it was a table and two chairs. A white clock on the wall above the table ticked quietly.
A quiet and calm figure placed a hand on Willem's shoulder. "Willem Alan Camargo." The figure said, its voice sounding feminine.
Willem turned to a tall woman in a white robe with a long trim. She had long, black hair under a glowing silver crown with specks of gold and diamond. The crown's metal was wrapped around itself to resemble a grapevine.
She was astonishingly beautiful. Her hourglass figure was hidden under the robe, but when she would change direction, her ample cleavage pressed up on the white robe. She looked down at Willem, who was significantly shorter.
"How do you know my name?" Willem asked the figure, a blush on his cheeks. The figure waved her arm, the long white robe flapping. Willem was slightly intimidated by her large and gorgeous figure.
"I made you, Willem. I know all my creations," the figure said to him, fully aware of how he felt. She covered her smile with her sleeve, giggling slightly from Willem's uncharacteristic shyness. Willem avoided eye contact, completely unaware that she knew.
Willem looked at the figure, finally seeing that it was indeed a woman. "Mom?" he asked, confused and slightly scared by the woman's height. She was at least five feet taller than him, and Willem was six feet eight inches tall.
The figure giggled, amused by his naive response. "No, I am God, Willem."
God sat down at the table and gestured for Willem to sit with her. "God's a woman??" Willem blurted out in shock. He covered his mouth, ashamed that he actually said that to her. To his surprise, her warm smile remained.
She nodded and gave a somewhat sly smirk, "Is that a problem?" She asked, raising an eyebrow.
Willem vigorously shook his head, "Not at all! I'm just surprised women on Earth don't have more power."
God frowned, seeming upset by something. "I gave you humans free will but it was abused." She looked at the table, her hand trembling slightly and disrupting her calm composture. She looked up again, smiling.
Willem nodded. "Willem, why do you think you're here?" She asked.
He scratched his chin, thinking. "I'm dead, aren't I?"
She nodded. "You are dead, but why do you think you're here?"
Willem looked around the room for some kind of answer, but nothing came to him. The room was filled with an emptiness that didn't seem possible. It was not an eerie feeling like when he was stuck in that mind trap, but an emptiness that felt reassuring.
It wasn't creepy in the slightest. The room was ivory white with a snow-white glow to it. "Am I going to Hell?" He asked, worried. He wasn't going to be surprised if she said yes. After all the lives he ruined, it was disserving.
God shook her head, "No, Willem. You have not been deserving of Hell." She paused a second, "Hell is for monsters."
I am a monster, Willem thought to himself. Only a monster would take the lives of so many innocent civilians and children. Hell seemed like the only appropriate fate for him.
Willem looked down at his open palms, his guilty conscience causing him to see blood drenching them. The memories of the people he killed seemed to engulf the room. Dozens of men and women stood around him, some as young as infants. These were his sins, the murders in Vietnam.
God rested her hand on Willem's leg. "You're not a monster. These memories aren't what define you."
He looked at her, shocked that she could see it. All around him were the souls of those he murdered, just like when he would fade into his mind. Their faces were bruised and bloody, with empty black sockets where their eyes should be.
God looked at each of the souls. She could tell he was remorseful. "These people around us are only your subconscious, Willem."
"So why am I here?" he looked up at her and the faces of each soul. One by one, they faded until it was only him and her.
"Because there is someone here that you need to speak to." God said and waved her hand, her robe flapping again.
As if on cue, Willem watched two men enter from the blankness of a wall. He recognized both. Mordecai Mallard and Micheal Morris.
"I'm sorry, Willem. I tried to give you another chance, but all I did was hurt you more." Mordecai said to him.
Willem stood and walked over to him. "I'm not angry anymore, Mordecai. You had no way of knowing."
Mordecai smiled a warm but weak smile. Slowly, his person faded into dust, disappearing before him.
"WHAT DID I DO?!" Willem shouted in fear. God placed a hand on his shoulder.
She reassured him. "You healed each other's pain toward one another. Mordecai has moved on."
Micheal walked closer. "Willem, do you know me?"
He nodded, "Micheal Morris. The Stitcher."
Micheal frowned, "So that's how they remember me?"
Willem nodded, "Yes, it is." He hesitated before finding the strength to speak, "I'm so sorry."
Micheal sighed, "I never wanted that to happen."
Willem gasped as he noticed Micheal's legs. They were cut open and dripped with blood, dangling ligaments, and shattered bone fragments. Micheal sensed that Willem was looking at his legs, "It's not as bad as it seems, Willem."
Micheal touched the open wound of his leg, remembering something. "I'd rather be free and hurt, then trapped alone and in pain."
Willem didn't get what he meant by that. "What happened to you?"
Micheal looked at his legs, "Everyone thinks I was the monster," He sighed, "I was the vessel."
Micheal held a hand out to Willem, "Join me, Willem. Let's be free again."
Willem reached out, but he couldn't. Slowly, things faded, and all he could hear was God saying goodbye and Mortuus's voice calling to him.
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