Jasper Pov
The big question. What happens to you when you die?
The first time I died, I was nineteen years old. My parents wanted to turn me back when I was fifteen, so I’d be forever younger than my mother. I ran away when I was fifteen, and for four years I was on the run. When my father shoved his wrist in my mouth, the sweet nectar of his blood sliding down my throat, the only thing I could think was: ‘Will it hurt?’ Then he very quickly answered my question by grabbing my face and repeatedly banging my head against the wall. Each slam was indescribable. The pain was horrifying, and then it was gone, and I was floating. Even still, as I floated in the darkness, I wondered what would happen. Was I going to die? Was I dead? Where would I go? Was this really it for me? Did it ev
