“Open up,” she screamed while slamming her hand against the big metal door, “you can’t just kick me out!” The fresh air in her lungs felt wrong to her. She was determined to be the one to get hell in order and make it great.

There was still no sign that the door would be opening again anytime soon. She had been trying to get herself back into hell for hours. Obviously none of them truly knew who she was. It was a bit too sunny. Her eyes finally adjusted to the light.

“If you won’t let me in I’ll let myself in,” her voice almost gone from the previous hours of yelling, “don’t ignore me! You know I’m not going to let you just kick me out.” She ran out of the alleyway trying to find anything useful. The warm sun finally touching her skin.

Familiar sounds of the city surrounded her. This was her home. For most of her life being in the city is the best feeling in the world. It didn’t take her long to figure out where she was.

“Let,” she grunted “me,” she took another swing “in!” Not a single dent in the door was made. Over and over the metal bat bashed into the large metal door. She refused to give up.

It was starting to get dark already. The constant shock through her arms began to slow her down. The shaking started in her shoulders but has finally spread down her arms.

Another swing and her hands gave out. The bat dropped to the ground and her arms went limp. She refused to leave. Her living body was never used to moving like this.

Her hands made art. They were never used to violently swing a bat. Her legs only went for her casual daily walks. They were very rarely going at a faster pace.

How long was she gone. Some of the stores around here where new but that’s not anything out of the ordinary in a city like this. Stores have always been such a temporary thing. Her mind kept circling.

She has another chance at life. Taking it just means that she will have to live knowing what is going on in the afterlife. When she died again would her soul restart again or will she be rejected again?

The rejection was nothing for her. She was an artist. Rejection was just the norm for her. That world was in her past now.

The street was now lit up by the warm artificial light of the city. Finally the air started to cool. A slight breeze dancing around her gave her a second wind. The numbing of her limbs made it easier to move.

“Open,” she screamed, “this,” she took another swing, “damn,” clang, “door!” Her stamina didn’t last as long as the first time. The bat slipped through her fingers as her legs gave out.

There was a metallic clink. Followed by a creak as the door opened.