Chapter 1: Personalized Hell

Patricia woke up with a splitting headache. Her body was numb.

As her eyes grew accustomed to the sunlight illuminating her childhood bedroom, jumbled fragments of memories slowly returned to her.

Not only did she recollect the events of her life before her death, but she also recalled that this wasn't the first time she was opening her eyes to find herself in this place.

The first time she woke up, her entire body hurt. It felt almost like it was about to break into pieces.

Her eyelids were heavy. It took her a considerable amount of effort to open her eyes.

When she finally did, what greeted her wasn't the dull-coloured walls of a hospital ward, nor was it anything that one would associate to an area of the afterlife.

Instead, she found herself in the room she had back when she still lived with the Gorshkova family.

Patricia blinked her eyes multiple times. Seeing how nothing changed, she resorted to rubbing them.

This was surely a dream. How could she be in her childhood bedroom otherwise?

Even if she had yet to look around, the bedsheets, wallpaper and study desk before her indicated that decoration was the same as it was until her 16th birthday.

Maybe it was a hallucination induced by excessive blood loss?

"She's awake."

The voice that said that was cold and distant.

Patricia slowly turned to its source.

Her eyes widened like saucers.

Her stomach flipped.

Tears pricked her eyes at the sight of the person coming out from the bathroom connected to her bedroom.

Dimitri Gorshkova.

He appeared to be no older than 14 right now.

Dimitri had on the uniform of that infuriating overseas boarding school he'd seemed to have adopted as his home back then.

He cast her a glance that didn't even last a split second as he passed in front of her bed, toward the door with measured steps.

Despite the youthful appearance, his facial expression was that of a strict man who'd experienced the world.

His eyes were sharp, and so was his gaze.

Even the way he dried his hands with the towel screamed sophistication.

At that moment, Patricia forgot the years of unsolved misunderstandings and resentment between the two of them. All she had in mind was that Dimitri, her third brother, was in front of her.

Did this mean she'd joined the afterlife as well?

So what if they'd both died, at least they were united again! Maybe their first brother and their father were here as well.

Patricia was overwhelmed with joy.

She opened her mouth once but the lump in her throat prevented any word from coming out. So she simply waited, her expectant eyes strained on the doorway beside which Dimitri now stood.

Not too long after, a series of footsteps rushed towards the bedroom.

All traces of blood drained from Patricia's face in an instant. Her shining eyes froze.

Or maybe... this was hell personalized to ensure eternal torture for her?

A drop of tear rolled down her cheeks.

Even if her first brother had passed away and she'd followed almost a year after her third brother and their father, their mother was living well with their second brother, was she not? Patricia hadn't heard anything about the possible death of the mistress of the Gorshkova family.

Did... Did the remaining members of the Gorshkova family perish after Patricia died?

No, this couldn't be!

The last time Patricia saw her mother, even if it was only from afar, her eyesight hadn't played tricks on her. Her mother hadn't looked sick at all. She was sad, but not sick!

What's more, even if her mother had lost two of her sons as well as her husband, she still had one son along with her long-lost daughter by her side.

All kinds of thoughts flooded Patricia's mind. She failed to notice that her first brother was nowhere to be seen yet.

Patricia tried to get out of bed. Unfortunately, the overwhelming anxiety had caused her not to notice the layers of sheets draped over her. Consequently, she tangled her legs in them whilst trying to rush out of the room and see whether her second brother was in the afterlife with the rest of them.

Irene Gorshkova, her mother, rushed to her side in an instant. She gasped when she saw her daughter falling face first onto the floor.

Unexpectedly for everyone in the room, the one who prevented the fall was none other than Dimitri Gorshkova. He'd somehow managed to outrun his mother and made it in time to support Patricia.

"Why are you suddenly rushing out of bed? Haven't you had enough already with one broken leg?"

Patricia looked at him with a sad expression on her face. Tears pooled in her almond-shaped eyes. She saw the frown on his stern-looking face but didn't hear the words that accompanied it.

Dimitri's brows were scrunched tighter together as he looked down at her in disapproval. Ignoring the stupid look on Patricia's face, he lifted her princess style and put her back in bed.

Throughout the process that lasted a few seconds at most, his face retained the expression of someone who was being forced to accomplish assigned duties. A punishment, actually.

Yet, Patricia didn't care. She stared at her third brother's face the entire time. Even dead, Dimitri remained the same diligent person. He would do things well or he wouldn't do them at all. She couldn't believe Dimitri was so close to her at this moment. If this was death, she didn't mind dying a thousand time over.

Patricia was so caught up in her own emotions that she failed to notice how he'd paid special care to one of her legs in particular, before tucking her in like a child at bedtime.

If Dimitri acted this was with her now that they were no longer alive, maybe what little was left of the relationship between her and the rest of the Gorshkovas could be salvaged?

Patricia suddenly burst out in tears.

Dimitri's face snapped in her direction. His hands instantly retracted to his sides.

The moment she let out the infant-like wail, Irene rushed forward. She subconsciously pushed the startled Dimitri out of the way.

"Did you hurt yourself when you fell? Did your brother touch your leg?"  She frantically inspected her face and entire body. "Tell Mommy where it hurts. Mommy will help you get better, all right? Mommy will make the pain go away."

Dimitri stood rooted in place. He'd clearly sure not to touch any of her injures.

His brows furrowed almost unnoticeably as he stared at Patricia's crying face from behind his mother's back, his gaze turning sharper.

"What are you looking at with those evil eyes of yours?!" Irene snapped at him. She looked like a mother feline ready to tear apart whomever dared harm her cub.

"I did not touch her foot."

Dimitri wasn't one to beat around the bush. His mother straightforwardly accused him of worsening his sister's injuries. In return, he straightforwardly told his mother that wasn't the case.

Alas, a mother knew not reason when it came to the sufferings of her child.

"Says you, the evil little gremlin staring at your baby sister like you'd gobble her up the moment she denounced your purposeful wrongdoings!"

Dimitri responded coldly over the incessant wailing of the youngest in the room:

"Patricia is no longer a baby."

"You...!"

Irene was at a loss for word.

Ever since her youngest son enrolled in that boarding school- No. Dimitri had always been a little gremlin, it only worsened with the bad influence of those foreigners!

No matter what she said, Irene knew would never be able to get that boy to understand facts as they were. Embarking into a quarrel right now would only be detrimental to her baby girl's health.

Talking this into consideration, she could only glare at her son with bulging eyes after huffing and puffing for a while.

Dimitri was no gentleman either. He returned his mother's insult-filled gaze with an indifferent one.

As expected, the nonchalance was considered an act of defiance. Needless to say, it was badly received.

Irene was about to teach her son some manners when Kostyantyn finally made himself noticed.

He walked to his wife's side and placed his large palm on his daughter's head and felt the latter's chubby body stiffen at the unexpected contact.

This action of his was enough to somewhat ease the tension in the air. Although it wasn't enough to dilute Irene's anger, it helped prevent her from doing anything rash.

"What's wrong, Tricia?" he asked in a gentle voice.

Patricia raised her head. Her eyes were round, red and glistening with tears as she looked at her father's face, which had a pinkish undertone, causing him to look like he was still alive.

Patricia hiccuped.

Appearance-wise, her father's face, just like Dimitri's, looked younger. She could no longer see the damages done by time and years of endless emotional distress.

Then, she pulled him into her arms.

Kostyantyn stiffened. Although he couldn't comprehend what was going on, he surmised it might be best to play along until their daughter calmed down enough to share what it was that was bothering her.

But then, Patricia started to cry in the crook of his neck. Somehow, her crying seemed to be intensifying by the second. She even hugged him tighter and refused to let go.

"Tricia!"

The nickname tore out of Patricia like it was the most heart-breaking word in the world.

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