Chapter Text
The day I died, it was freezing cold outside. I stared in at the warm light, and all I could do was press my face tight to the glass. I tentatively knocked against it with my knuckle, but there was so much screaming inside no one noticed.
I waited for someone to bring the trash out, or to come smoking, but no one did.
I saw him walk in.
Elizabeth stood by his feet, tugging at Michael's sleeve, smiling mischievously. That was her troubled smile, the one that made my stomach clench. Her tricks weren’t ever any fun.
David stood on his other side, pulling into himself like a turtle. He hated it here. I always wondered why he had to come.
I never paid Michael much mind. He was rude, and older, so my eyes always glossed over him. I regret it now, ever letting myself push past him. Michael’s pain was always so easily read, so much so it hurt to look at him. I was protecting myself from infection, I told myself, a dangerous one.
I never looked my uncle in the face. I wasn’t afraid of him, it was just something I did, so often I could tell you exactly what his shoes looked like. Back then, I thought it was because I was shy. I know the reason now. It’s because his kids never looked him in the face. I spent a lot of time with them. They were definitely afraid of him.
I watched them walk away, and then felt the first raindrops start to hit my head. Quickly, my wavy hair became heavy with the stuff, my clothes clinging to my skin for warmth. I knocked against the glass harder, as the rain continued its persistent drumming. I gave up when I realized no one could hear.
You know what the worst part is. In my final moments of life, I thought about such unimportant things, like school work, or my upcoming birthday, or that itchy sweater my grammy got me for Christmas. I wasn’t spending my final moments thinking about my papa, or my mom, or anyone else I have ever loved. I wasn’t even thinking about all the things I love doing. I wasted those final moments. I wasted my last seconds of life, and for what?
Clunk!
I jumped, and whipped around, but I couldn’t see anything, the rain turning to mist as it pelleted the ground like bullets.
CLUNK!
Again I saw nothing, but it had been louder, it had, I swear.
“Hello?!” I called out timidly into the dark.
CLUNK!
“Is anyone there?! HELLO!?” I shouted, panic turning my voice frantic. I knew something bad was coming, even then.
Something grabbed my arm, then I felt an extreme piercing pain. I think I would have let out a scream if I could, but all I got was a gurgle. The skin of my face became taught with panic as I fell to the floor, my knees being scrapped as I slanted towards him.
I needed help? I couldn’t scream? Why is no one ever there when I need help? Why doesn’t anyone listen? Why must I always help others and never myself? Why are you always to busy for me? Why did you leave me out here to die papa?
The last thing I saw were those eyes. I swear I could see them through the plastic ones, piercing my brain. For the first time ever, I saw my Uncle's eyes. And they were made of fear, rotten and turned purple.
Anyone who has ever told you that dying is painless is lying. You gasp and gurgle but you don’t get any air in. Your brain is screaming at you BREATHE BREATHE BREATHE and you try but no matter what you do, nothing happens. You flail, and then twitch, and then stop moving all together as all the energy is drained from your body. Then your brain begins to shut off. You stop trying to breathe, and your eyelids grow heavy. Your heart slows, and you feel your blood begin to pool at the bottom of your body. It feels like a giant bruise spreading up your back, and your final breathes are so heavy, like your lungs are being squeezed. Then everything just stops. No more pain, no more begging, everything comes to a close. Well it should. But my life was never that easy.
I watched as ever muscle in my body loosened, my eyes pointed at the road, unseeing. My skin has gone ghostly pale in the rain, my dark brown hair seeming black in comparison. The blood pooled around me, mixing with the rainwater like mist. Then your muscles tighten. You curl in on yourself, like your trying to stay warm, when you can’t even feel the cold anymore.
Finally, the strange clicking sound of its legs hitting ground grew loud enough for me to hear it above the rain.
The puppet twitched strangely as the rain damaged it’s parts. It sank lower to the ground with every second, before crawling toward me, desperate to reach it’s child. By the time it reached me, all it could do was fall beside me, shakily place an arm on top, like it was trying to hug me. Then everything clicked into place. I wasn’t dead. Not fully. This story isn’t over yet.
The police sirens rang through the air, wailing and sobbing with a death they don’t feel. The lights flash through me. All the guest are rushed out of the pizzeria, already gossiping about the dead girl they don’t even know the name of. By tomorrow the entire town will know.
Some will pity my father. Some will think him foolish, or perhaps the killer himself. Many more will not care at all.
One will know the truth.
One will keep a secret.
I want to tell them I’m still here, but even the children have stopped listening to me. I’m still freezing cold, though I’m no longer outside. My clothes and hair stick to my skin, my face is pink from the cold. When I look in the mirror I see what he saw. Someone easy to forget. I know he’s wrong, but it never stops it from hurting. Nothing will ever stop hurting. In moments like this, it’s easy to remember why Cassidy is angry.
But it’s so long to be angry.
And it’s so much easier to forget.