Trish stared at him for a few moments, letting the words sink in. Her breathing had gone back to normal, or as normal as it could be for anyone who had died, ended up in Los Angeles...MacArthur Park?
"2006?" Trish's brow furrowed slightly. "Is this like some test or something? To see if I'm going to go to heaven or hell?"
She managed to sit up a bit straighter, even if it did make her feel dizzy.
"I know I'm dead," her hand went to the bloody side of her dress, and ran over the slash in the fabric. As she did so her eyes clouded over slightly, and it looked like she might start crying again or even start screaming. "He...he," she paused. She didn't feel a wound, there was nothing. Why was there nothing?! "...he killed me."
She looked down where the wound should have been, but instead her attention went to her hand...to the diamond ring on her finger.
"Ohmigod!" she gasped, her eyes widening in horror at the sight of it. "Get off, get off!"
She began to freak out again, which caused taking the ring off near impossible. As soon as she realized this, she buried her face in hands, trying desperately to compose herself and failing miserably at it.
[ooc: I APOLOGIZE PROFUSELY TO MITCHELL ON TRISH'S BEHALF! D8]