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"Hello, Jim." a voice called out. Jim looked around, and all he saw was darkness. There was no light in the room, and he couldn't move at all. The last thing he saw was his wife, pleading at him not to do something, yet he couldn't remember what.

"Where am I?" Jim questioned.

"That question is currently not important." the voice called out again, "If it makes it any better, you are dead."

"Wait, what?" Jim shrieked. He heard a radio tuning for one minute while waiting for an answer.

"James Andrew Moore, age 42." a new voice stated.

"What's it to you?" Jim asked the new voice.

"Mr. Moore, we shall be instituting a light into your room. Once your room is lit, find the iron door. Attempt to open it." Suddenly, a bright light suddenly was turned on, and Jim shielded his eyes. The room was entirely white, and right in front of him was a lever-activated door.

"Pull the lever, Mr. Moore." the voice commanded Jim. Jim walked towards the lever, but didn't pull the lever. He liked the quietness of the room, except for the booming prescence of the strange voice.

"I know your every thought, Mr. Moore. There is nothing that I don't know about you. You were married, you had two children, and you had many people in your life who cared about you. You killed yourself, and you left them all to fend to themselves and left them in sorrow." the voice seemed to say that in a mocking tone.

"I did it because nobody in my life cared about me. They just used me. That's where your wrong." Jim cried out. He felt something grab him and throw him to the wall.

"I know everything, Mr. Moore. They cared about you. They were your family. Your friends. And now you are dead. You inflicted your own pain, and their pain. You have damaged their souls, and you can't go back. Now please, just pull the lever." the voice called, seeming angry. Jim pulled the lever and walked out the door, into a completely white room with nothing but a painting on the wall. The painting was of a waterfall, accompanied by many types of tropical birds.

"This is art, Mr. Moore." the voice stated, "Look at it." Jim observed the painting, and he didn't really find it interesting.

"I'm looking at it, now what do you want?" Jim questioned the voice.

"You're dead, James. You can't change anything about that. The reason I'm making you look at this painting is because this shall be the only painting you'll see here."

"I don't want to be dead, I want to be alive! Just let me out of here and let me start over!"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Moore. I do not decide who dies and who lives. I just introduce those who do die." Jim walked around the infinite room, attempting to run at walls he thought were there.

"Why am I here? What did I do to deserve this fate?"

"You commit suicide, and you have had this room pre-determined. If you died of natural causes, you would've had a much nicer abode." the voice mocked.

"I want to leave! I don't want to be in this place! I want to go back! Just let me go back! I don-"

"SILENCE!" the voice interrupted, "SHUT UP! JUST SHUT UP! YOU DO NOT GET TO GO BACK AND YOU DO NOT GET TO START OVER. YOU CONDEMNED YOURSELF TO THIS HELL AND YOU GET WHAT YOU GET! YOU ARE NOT SPECIAL, YOU ARE NOT UNIQUE. EVERYONE WHO DIES GETS THE SAME WHITE ROOM. THE SAME INFINITE ROOM, AND UNLESS YOU ARE ASSIGNED A SPECIFIC JOB, YOU GET WHAT EVERYONE ELSE GETS! NOW, UNLESS YOU WANT TO BE TORTURED, SHUT UP!"

"Being tortured would be better than this, you pig!" Jim shouted. He heard the same radio tuning from before, and heard a new, more feminine voice.

"Hello, Jim. How are you doing?" the new voice asked politely.

"Not to well. I hate this place." Jim responded.

"That's what they all say when they first get here." the voice said, "You'll get used to it."

"But what if I don't? What if I-" Jim tried to speak, but for some reason, he couldn't.

"I'm sorry, but you'll have to. If you'd like, I could unleash you to the town of Liatania." the voice remarked.

"Um, sure, I guess." Jim responed. The floor opened on him and he started falling through air. Somehow, he ended up in a town with ghosts.

"Welcome to Liatania." a voice welcomed him, "Do not attempt to leave Liatania, or else you shall be captured by the candwatchers and be tortured."

"The hell is a 'candwatcher'?" Jim questioned himself. A man in a suit with a grey full beard walked up to him.

"Why, hello there, chap! How are we doing?" he asked with lots of positivity.

"I hate this place. I just want to go back!" Jim yelled at him.

"Oh, poor James." The man snapped his fingers and suddenly Jim was back in his white room.

"IjustwanttogobackandseemywifeandseemysonandseemyfriendsandfamilyI'mnothappyhereIjustwanttogobackletmegoback-" Jim was talking faster than he thought and was suddenly he was interrupted by the first voice.

"SHUT UP, JUST SHUT UP! WE ALL DIE, WE WERE ALL SENT HERE. YOUR DAUGHTER DIED THE SAME WAY YOU DIED. NOW SHUT UP AND GET READY FOR YOUR INTERVIEW." the voice boomed.

"I don't want to have an interview! I want to go back!" Jim yowled. Something picked him up and dragged him to a chair.

"Alright, so, let us begin this interview. What is your name?"

"I don't want to conduct a mother-" Jim started spewing out but was interrupted by the voice.

"What is your name?" the voice asked again.

"James 'Jim' Andrew Moore..." Jim gulped.

"What is your age?"

"42."

"Is your daughter named Rose 'Ruby' Moore?"

"I don't want to talk about my daughter."

"Is your daughter named Rose 'Ruby' Moore?" the voice asked again.

"I SAID I DON'T WANT TO TALK ABOUT MY DAUGHTER! ARE YOU THICK HEADED?"

"Just answer the question."

"Fine... Yes."

"Did Ms. Moore commit suicide?"

"Stop manipulating me, you monster..."

"Answer the question."

"Yes..."

"When?" the voice asked.

"I DON'T WANT TO TALK ABOUT MY DAUGHTER ANYMO-" Jim could not talk.

"I have configured your speech modifier so you can only say 'Yes', 'No' and information for the questions.". Jim tried to speak, but he couldn't. "When did she commit suicide, Mr. Moore?"

"September 12th, 2007."

"Did Rose hang herself?"

"Yes."

"Do you feel responsible?"

"Yes..."

"You need to stop making yourself feel guilty for her death, Mr. Moore. It wasn't your fault, it was her own fault. She subjected herself to Michael Gregoire, and she let herself be beat. She tried to stop it by relieving herself of life. She is now here, with us. Now, onto the next question. How do you feel about her death?"

"I feel like a failure. I feel like a failure for just watching her. I could've stopped her. I could've saved her, but I chose not to.

"Would she try to save you?"

"She took after her mother, so probably."

"Are you sure she would?"

"I know she would. She was human, unlike YOU. You pretend like you know human emotion, like you know what it's like to have feeling, but you don't. You're like a machine. Giving people pre-determined fates, mocking them for believing that they had to commit suicide because no one gave a shit about their life! You don't give a shit about me, either. So I don't have to listen to all of your crap."

"I'm going to introduce pain into your nervous system the next time you don't answer one of my questions. Now, answer the question."

"Alright then, I'm not that sure. I think she would. I don't care if you think she wouldn't."

"Well, at least that's an answer. Next question. You were involved in Walker-Forrest War, correct?"

"Yes."

"And you had a war friend, Jeremy Sanders?"

"Yes..."

"Did he die?"

Jim felt what he thought was tears dripping down his face. "Yes..."

"How did he die?"

"The troops were ambushing us, and they shot Jeremy in the leg... I just left him there to be trampled. I could've saved him like Rose..."

"Do you feel guilty for his death, as well?"

"Yes, because I just left him there... He could've lived if I hadn't been in deep shit running from some people with explosives and machine guns shooting at us whenever we tried to fight back!"

"Your job has been selected. Goodbye, Mr. Moore."

Part Two coming on 6/3/16. Here's a preview: Wendigo

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