Was she supposed to be sad?  Finding out that she was dead?  Part of it almost seemed like relief, a release from the mundane aspects of her life she'd been trying to escape for years.  A series of poor choices and actions had gotten her here and it was probably for the best.  She felt strangely absent of emotion, even though there were people clearly experiencing them.  One woman was sobbing hysterically, a large red gaping wound in her side.  Calista wasn't sure what marks she bore, perhaps bruises, the clear signs of strangulation that had made it so apparent to this stranger.  He was explaining things now and she was barely listening.<br/><br/>"I wouldn't want it to," she mused softly, glancing around the room.  Her fingers traced the edge of the glass, a sweet substance inside that she'd only tasted a few times in her short adulthood.  Probably wine or a mixed cocktail.  The idea of being revived into the hell she'd been living was more than a nightmare in itself.  If she thought about it hard enough, she could piece together exactly what had happened, but it caused a sharp ache in her head to do so.  "I'm likely better off here than I was in the living world."<br/><br/>The statement sounded morbid to her own ears, but it was likely the truth.  Calista hadn't been suicidal in life, but certain circumstances had left her depressed and anxious more often than not.  "There is no pain." she said to the man, turning her grey gaze back to him.  He sat tall beside her and she was sure that he was one of those that had never been living.  He bore no clear marks of death and the features were that of another world unlike her own.  Her curiosity lie not in her own death or the place around her, but merely in the man in front of her.  "Who are you?"