A/N: I will probably never write a chapter as long as the first one ever again.

Jeff's dead heart was pumping as fast as it could be for not truly being alive. He could not believe what he was seeing at the moment. The infamous monster known as Chris Benoit was sitting on his couch. There was a murderer in his home, and Jeff didn't know what to do.

"What are you doing here?" Jeff gasped, tugging at his hair. The last thing that Jeff remembered was that Beth had died, Matt and Shannon dropped him off at his house, and then he took some heroin for the first time in god knows how long.

I must be tripping balls...

"I told you already. I'm your roommate. Welcome to the afterlife, kid," Chris explained, pointing the remote control towards the television and pressing the power button, turning the electronic device off.

Jeff stood there in silence, completely and utterly confused at what was going on. He tried to wrap his brain around the situation, but nothing was clicking together.

Chris sighed. "You need me to explain this further, don't you? Sit down, kid."

Slowly and cautiously, Jeff walked across the room and sat in the recliner next to the couch that Chris was lounging on.

"Alright, here's the deal. First and foremost, you're dead. Dead. Do you at least understand that much?"

Jeff nodded, lifting a hand up and pinching himself quite forcefully. "Ow!" he cried, rubbing the spot that he had pinched. "If I'm dead, how come that hurt?"

Chris shook his head. "How about you let me finish before you do something stupid like that? Look, kid, you're in the afterlife, but not just any afterlife. I bet you were expecting rainbows and clouds and pretty little angels with wings feeding you grapes while you sit on Zeus's fucking thunder throne. And I bet you thought there would be a little pond you could gaze into and watch the people you care about who are still down on Earth. Oh, and I bet you thought Beth and your daughter would be up here, too. Well, you're wrong. You fucked up and killed yourself. Now you're here with the rest of us who did the same thing. Everything in our afterlife is just the same as it was when we were alive, but everything is just a little worse. You see that everything is just a little blurry and more of a grey shade, right?"

"Yeah! I noticed that! And then I walked downstairs and saw that you were here," Jeff replied, rubbing his eyes. "What are you doing here, anyways? I mean, now that the shock from all of this is gone and everything."

"Christ, boy. I'm your roommate. My room is the one across from yours, actually."

"My daughter's room?" Jeff gasped, leaping up from the recliner and rushing upstairs. He opened the door to the room that he and Beth had decorated for the child they were expecting. Instead of the pink and rainbows that he knew should have been in the room, the walls were covered with wrestling posters, NASCAR fliers, and on the bedside table was a picture of Chris Benoit and Eddie Guerrero.

Jeff picked up the picture and ran his fingers over Eddie's face, remembering is late friend. Jeff heard Chris enter the room, and he looked up. "Where is he?" Jeff asked, holding up the picture.

Chris lowered his head, gently taking the picture from Jeff's hand and into his own. "Eddie didn't kill himself. I don't know where he is, but that's the hell of it...at least for me." Chris placed the framed picture back in it's place and returned to his brash self. "So, kid, any other questions about this place? I've been here a few years, so I kind of know my way around."

"Wait, you've been in my house for years?" Jeff asked in shock, horrified that someone who had been believed to be such a monster since his death had been living alone in his house.

"No," Chris chuckled. "I kind of, ah...'moved in,' if you will, when you were in your transition phase. I was actually hanging out with Kurt Cobain for a while."

"Kurt Cobain is here?" Jeff gasped, holding a hand to his heart. "That guy is like...my hero."

"He's somewhere in our world, but to be honest, that guy wanders more than Forrest Gump," Chris said. "And he's really not that cool anymore. He said he's been here for so long that the bad stuff has kind of taken over his mind. He can't sleep or anything. He spends his days as a street musician, or at least he did when I lived with him."

"Oh..." Jeff sighed in disappointment. "It would be great to meet him."

"Yeah, and it would be great if we got to watch wrestling here, but we can't. Life's tough, kid, and so is the afterlife."

"We don't get wrestling?"

"We get NXT Season 3. On repeat. That's the only thing that's on the television. It's on every. Single. Channel."

"No!"

"I told you that everything is worse here," Chris reminded the Rainbow Haired Warrior. "Sometimes, it is much worse."