“Mr Val,” I say, my voice riddled with panic “What is the place? What are those rooms?”

Mr Val helps me to my feet and closes the door behind me. He seems older and taller than when I had seen him just an hour before. He walks to the first door and gently lays a hand on its handle.

“Each room represents either a happy time in your life or something you yearned for, Melissa,” he says. “Room 10 was a memory with your father when he was still alive. Room 25 was you yearning to be loved and accepted by your friends and family for being who you are, yet allowing your family to influence and decide every single path of your life. Room 30 was a desperate yearning to find love and live your truth. Room 40 was the desire you have to one day pack your bags and travel the world.”

Mr Val walks slowly towards the room at the end of the hall. The one where I found myself in total darkness and void.

“This room, scary and hateful as it seems, represents possibility, Miss Swartz. Each mirror represented who you could be in life if you choose it, but it all shattered and turned to darkness in the end.” He says, “The future will always be dark, unknown. But when we walk into it we can light and create our own path.”

“That is odd,” I reply, still flabbergasted by all that has happened. “Why would such a place exist?”

“You tried to take your own life because you could not accept yourself and your sexuality and now your life hangs in the balance.”

The realisation hits me like a first in the gut. The fight I had with my mother before I stormed to my room and swallowed an entire bottle painkillers. The reason why I arrived at the hotel without bags, without shoes, wearing nothing but a white dress.

“Am I dead, Mr Val?” I ask, my voice plagued with concern.

“Not quite, Melissa. The hotel is merely a golden bridge between life and death. A stopping point for those who still cling to life.” His voice was too gleeful for a place so sombre.

His words bring me comfort in the situation I find myself in. Perhaps I can still live. Still fight to come out on the other side.

“Is there any way I can live through this, Mr Val?”

“Do you want to?”

The question lingers in the air like a speck of dust. I have struggled with my sexuality for years. Not wanting to accept myself and fearful that the world would reject me if I tried to be myself. But why should the world determine whether or not I should be myself?

I walk up to Mr Val and take his hand in mine.

“I want to live.”

Clear…clear…clear!

The words ring in my head. I feel myself fade as the hotel starts to dissipate before my eyes. The last thing I see is Mr Val’s Golden Bridge broach, until that fades into the darkness too.

Tell us: What do you think happens just before or as we die?