Reformed

By Ashley Beery

Everyone tells you that there's a Heaven and a Hell when you die. What no one tells you is that Hell isn't full of flames and demons. For Mike Reese his Hell is reliving the death of his family over and over again. After being accused for their murders and sentenced to death, Mike must now live out his afterlife reliving that day as punishment. The only problem is, he wasn't the killer....

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mind Palace Publishing
• Release date: Jul 30, 2015
• ISBN: 9781515157960

Book preview

Chapter One

What will it be son, Heaven or Hell? The chaplain sat across from me, patiently waiting for my answer. I pondered over his question, not sure how to answer. It felt like I was already in Hell.

Heaven, sir. I'm going to Heaven. The chaplain gave me a surprised look and started to fidget with the Bible that he held in his hand.

Have you asked forgiveness for your sins, Michael?

Yes. I have.

Yet to this day you still proclaim that you're innocent of the crimes you've committed. If you say you're innocent, I imagine you haven't asked God to forgive you for those crimes. Am I right?

I stared at the man across from me. A part of me wanted to scream at him, another part of me wanted to know why he cared so much, and another part just wanted this to be over. I thought I was supposed to spend these hours in peace, not arguing with a man of the Lord.

You're right, I said, because I've done nothing that requires forgiveness. I am innocent.

He sighed heavily and shook his head as he looked down at his Bible. After a few moments of silence, he stood and approached me, stopping just a foot away from where I was sitting on my bed. He pat me on the shoulder — like a disappointed father — and notified the guard that he wanted out. He didn’t say another word to me as he left.

He didn’t believe me. No one did, or ever has. That's why I was there, waiting for my life to end. People say that there's a Heaven or a Hell when you die. I was about to find out. I was set to be executed in an hour.

I looked up at the photo of my family. My beautiful wife, blonde hair blowing in the wind, standing next to our two boys: one five years old and the other six. It was the last photo of them. They looked so happy, huddled together in front of the giraffe exhibit at the Columbus Zoo. I took the picture off of my otherwise bare, gray wall and placed it into the pocket of my uniform. They said it was okay to have it with me when I died. It was the one thing that's kept me going all these years while I waited for my sentence to finally be carried out; it reminded me that one day I'd get to see them again.

A loud crack on the iron bars beside me brought my mind back to the present. I turned to see a guard, Johnson, standing next to my door, too ready and eager to walk me to my death. The wicked smile on his face revealed his emotions. He’d put up with me for far too long and was tired of hearing me begging for a pardon these past few weeks. He opened the cell door and motioned for me to come out, I took a moment to look around my cell one last time, before walking with him down the range to the room housing the electric chair. Some men looked at me with pity as I walked past their cells. Others yelled out, Dead man walking! Some just ignored the whole process. I tuned them out and kept repeating inside my head: I’m innocent. I will go to Heaven. I will not suffer anymore.

I entered the preparation room and sat still while they shaved me and attached the electrodes. After that, they led me out to the electric chair and told me to sit down. I obeyed. The leather dug into my skin as they strapped me down, making sure everything was snug. I was offered the chance to say a few last words, but I just shook my head. Nothing I could say would stop them from executing me. Why waste my words?

Someone placed the hood on me, allowing me only the black emptiness to stare at. All I had left to do was wait. The few people in the room hushed and I knew death was coming. I said a silent prayer that the first thing I would see would be my wife. Suddenly, I felt my world set on fire.

Chapter Two

Wells, wells, wells. What do we have here? A bit late aren't you? By about ten minutes, if I'm correct. Took you a bit longer to get thoroughly crispy apparently.

I opened my eyes, my vision blurry at first, but slowly coming back into focus. I felt an intense pain in my head as I attempted, and failed, to stand up. As my vision came into focus, I noticed that I was in a prison cell, just like the one I had at Mansfield Reformatory before they moved me to the Ohio Penitentiary for my execution. The cell was even the same mint green color it had been before I left. The man drew my attention next. He was a scraggly fellow, his blonde hair a bit disheveled, and as skinny as a bean pole. He had the look of someone who had a hard life and had to grow up fast.

Let's see here, the man flipped through a few pages in a book beside him. You're Mike Reese right? I nodded. Well Mike, welcome to your afterlife.

I blinked for a few moments. This was my afterlife? It certainly wasn't Heaven, and it was borderlining on Hell. What was I doing back in a prison cell? Where was my wife? I couldn't find my voice yet. My head was still throbbing and I was still trying to get my bearings about me.

The man continued on.I'm Ron. I'll be your ‘advisor’ for a few weeks until you get the rules down. Now, to start off with let's make sure you're really Mike Reese. The man looks me over and motions for me to stand up, which I do after a few wobbly moments. Six foot three inches tall, 225 pounds, shaved head, brown eyes, slightly muscular build. Yep, I'd say you're the one I've been expecting. Now, before we go any further, we have some rules to go over.

During this whole process I kept thinking to myself that this had to be a mistake. Wasn't your life supposed to replay before you after you died, or a family member meet you at the pearly gates? Who was this Ron? What rules?

I finally found my voice. Excuse me sir, but I think you're mistaken. Where's my wife?

Oh that. Well, you'll find out later. For now, we focus on your punishment. Your punishment shall be served in full. Sadly, in your case it's an eternal sentence. You committed murder of three innocent victims, so therefore —

STOP, I shouted. I did not murder them. The judge and jury may have thought I did but I didn't. You should know that.

Ron shook his head. I'm sorry, but according to what I have here in my book, there was evidence to convict you and that means you're guilty both in the world of the living and the world of the dead. Now, your punishment, he cleared his throat, you'll have to relive the day of the murders and the moments up until you were found guilty, every single day of your afterlife.

I felt the blood drain from my face and my heart drop to the floor. This couldn't be happening. I couldn't face that day. I still had nightmares about it. The blood on my hands. The screams that escaped me. The look in her eyes...no. I couldn't do this.

Please, there has to be some mistake. I didn't commit those murders. I can't go through that day over and over again. Please! I'm begging you.

Ron just shook his head. I'm sorry man, but that's the way it is. The punishment has been written, it can't be taken back. Luckily though, you do get a reprieve. On Christmas, you get an hour on these grounds. The reformatory is your home during that time period. You can roam the grounds but you cannot leave it. Also, after the cycle from murder to conviction ends, you will be given a ten minute period away from your punishment as well. Same rules apply. I started to object but Ron held up his hand. "Don't look a gift horse in the mouth, trust me. Others have tried to fight that rule and end up without getting any reprieve from their sentencing. Take my advice and shut up."

I nodded grimly and sat down on the bunk, looking around at the horrible walls and their nasty color. I noticed everything was still the same: the sink, bunks, toilet— it was all as it had been before. It was as if I'd never left. In fact, this could have easily been my old cell. I turned away from Ron for a moment to look at the edge of the bed where it met the wall. If it was my cell, it'd have my inmate number still scratched into the wall. I moved the mattress over a little and saw the numbers 50922. I'll be damned, it was my old cell.

I ran my fingers over my inmate number. Carving things into the wall was a bit of a tradition in these cells. What else were you supposed to do to pass the time besides read the Bible? I was a bit relieved to know that I was in my old cell. At least something here would be familiar to me. Something was a little comforting. Ron had an amused look on his face as he noticed me looking at my number. I just stated that this was my old room and he nodded.

I know it's your old cell. We're not horribly unkind here in the afterlife. If we just tossed you into a pit of fire, well that wouldn't be fun now would it?

The thought of being cast away into a pit of fire did not do anything to help my mood. I sighed and leaned back in my bunk. Now what, Ron? How soon before this starts?

Oh, an eager beaver I see. Well, if you want, we can start now. It's not usual for one to want to get into this so quickly, but if that's what you want... He was daring me to say yes.

Might as well. I got the rules. I'm stuck in the worst moments of my life no matter which one I'm in. I just want to see my wife and kids again. Sadly, even if it was on their death beds, at least I'd get to see them.

Alright man. I'll be waiting for you when you come back. Most have a hard time adjusting to this punishment. He gave me a little pat on the shoulder and smiled. Good luck.

* * *

The smell of coffee, hamburgers, and french fries filled the air. I sipped on my coffee as the men around me started laughing. Another day at the farmers’ table, as the locals called it. It was our place to swap stories, to just talk and shoot the breeze, and to let our wives and girlfriends have their own time for a while. A waitress came over, wearing her green Pleaser's apron, and offered to refill our mugs. Everyone nodded and we went back to our chatting.

So Mike, I heard you and the family were thinking about buying some more farm ground right? I nodded and smiled at Jack.

‘Thinking’ is the key word for now, Jack. It's a dream. You know that. I'd like to have my own farm one day instead of being a hired hand. It'd be nice to be my own boss one day. That brought up another round of laughter as Steve chimed in that his cows were the boss of him. David laughed and said his wife did the job just fine of being his boss.

I looked down at my watch. Talking about my family reminded me that I should get home. I wanted to talk to Elizabeth about what the bank had said about the loan for some ground I had been looking at. I was never one to just jump into things without consulting her first. We were a team, and whenever a big decision came up, we worked through it.

I smiled to the group. Well gentlemen, I think I'd better be heading home. Same time tomorrow? We always met at the same time, but the question was our way of saying good bye. I gathered up my coat, stepped out into the chilly fall evening, and made my way to my truck.

On the drive home, I kept mulling over how Elizabeth would take my idea of a loan. She knew I wanted ground of my own, but the bank was asking for a nice chunk of money to start out with. Money we didn't really have, especially with two growing boys. I glanced over at the paperwork the bank had given me where it lay next to me on the passenger seat. Maybe she'd be able to figure out another way for us to be able to work with their numbers.

I pulled into the driveway and got out of my truck. I found it odd that the boys didn't run out to greet me. Usually, the moment they heard me pull in, they came running. Perhaps a He-Man special was on today and that was keeping them preoccupied. I walked up to the door and opened it, yelling, Elizabeth! Boys! I'm home.

I didn't hear the TV; I didn't hear anything actually. That was unusual. Maybe they were trying to pull a prank on me. Elizabeth...Elizabeth? A few more moments passed as I stood in the door way. Silence. Elizabeth! Boys! It's Dad! No reply.

I went to the kitchen and didn't find her there. I noticed that it looked like lunch hadn't been made either. The living room was empty as well. I made my way upstairs, yelling for her again and then for the boys. Nothing. I noticed the door to Josh's room was shut. In his six year old scrawl, a sign hung on his door, Knock means KNOCK! I did, and there was no answer. The same with Evan's room, the door was closed. I pounded on the door. Boys, if this is a game of hide-and-seek, we can play later. Come on out!

I began to worry a little when there was no reply and opened the door to Evan's room. Ok boys, play time is— I could hardly breathe. All words escaped me and a horrible sound left my lips. Something between a scream and a sob. My son was lying on the bed, blood soaking the sheets, his throat cut wide open. I could tell it was too late. I ran to Josh's room and flung open the door to find the same scene before me. Tears started to run down my cheeks as I frantically screamed for Elizabeth. I ran to our room. The door was shut like the others, but this one was locked. Perhaps she had tried to save herself and locked it so the killer wouldn't get in. I threw my body against the door, hoping that she was still alive. That she was alright. That someone I loved was still going to make it.

After several tries, the door broke down and I found her on the bed as well. Just like the boys but her throat wasn't slit. She had several blood soaked spots on her dress, and a knife protruding from her chest.

I ran up to her. Elizabeth. Oh my God, Elizabeth! Please hunny, please. Her eyes fluttered. She was barely alive. Elizabeth! Hunny, stay with me. Please stay with me.

All I could think about was how the knife needed to come out. How it had to be hurting her. I pulled it out, setting her free from it, and tossed it aside. She let out a rattling gasp, her eyes growing wide as she looked at me. I could hear her breath rattling in her chest with every lung full of air that she took. I became frantic.

Elizabeth. You can't leave me. You can't! You're all I have left. Please Elizabeth. Please! She gave me a sad look as if she was trying to convey to me how sorry she was, and that she really didn't want to