The most irritating aspect of coming back from the dead was that no one believed you hadn’t gone evil. Everyone has to run through the usual tests. And I do mean tests, plural. There is the possessed by a demon test, and the vampire test, and the zombie test, and the evil version of myself from another dimension test, and the evil clone created by bad people test, and…I could go on, but we’ve all been there—we know how it goes.
And of course, no one can believe anyone else’s results, because they may or may not be in on the evil deeds, so all the tests have to be re-run after you meet anyone who knew that you had died. No matter how many people have proven you are not a demon, vampire, zombie, evil clone, etc, etc, the tests have to be run again. If I never touch garlic of holy water ever again, I could be quite okay with that.
Of course there are other annoyances as well. Eating takes a while to get used to again. Balance requires some practice. And it’s really hard to go to sleep again, because there is always the fear that it will be another five or six years until you wake up again—if you wake up again at all. The idea that you might lay down to take a nap and wake up with your younger siblings even older than you—that someone else will have been lost while you were gone—that the world will have changed in ways you can’t even imagine and everyone looks at you like you shouldn’t be there—when all you wanted was a couple hours rest.
But somehow, the fact that those are just between me and myself makes them a lot easier to handle. Besides, another fear as you start to fall asleep is that when you wake up you’ll have to go through the garlic and holy water all over again. So—yes, I stand by what I said. No one believes you haven’t gone evil. And maybe in part it’s because you’re not sure you haven’t gone evil yourself.