And just like that I wake up. At first everything is fuzzy, but as I look around, my eyesight sharpens to one thing. The blood. I have a two second doubt that it didn't work until I see myself. Seconds seem to pass before I realize that it's me I'm seeing. I walk around myself, admiring my work. The cuts on my dead arms keep seeping blood and the puddle around the dead me keeps growing. I walk closer to dead me and lightly put my fingers to my dead selve's jugular. I'm not dead yet. I'm almost there, but not quite.
I examine further to realize the dying me still has the razors in each hand. The blades are rusty with blood from the cuts. They were dull from the use of cutting open boxes, by my strength was more than the task needed. My arms are flecked with cuts from the past years. They look like the connections in the constellations. I back away shaking.
My arms are covered in blood. I wipe at the blood to reveal cut flesh. I move at the flesh, trying to see how deep I cut myself. The almost dead me flinches and I scream in horror. I keep pulling though. I need to see. And I do. Bone. . . I cut down to the bone.
I heat something come from my room. I open the bathroom door and step into my room. It seems so different now. It's tranquil, except for the phone ringing. My bed is still made from this morning, my black and blue covers pulled tight over each corner. Every little thing is exactly how I left it, tidy and in its place. To think, Colby was sitting on this bed just yesterday. We were laughing and playing around, kissing and. . . Other things.
Colby. . . Who knew that you could miss someone even when you are dead. The phone keeps ringing. That damn phone! Who could be calling me, I have no one anymore. I stomp over to the phone and pick it up. Colby. Colby is calling me. I swipe to answer the phone, and am greeted by the sad fact that I am unable to answer it. I am dead. I. Am. Dead. I can't talk to him. I can't look at him. I'm lost in this limbo.
Then I hear it, footsteps behind me. It sounds like heavy boots coming closer and I feel a hand on my shoulder. "You can't answer that no matter how much you want to," I whip around to see nothing. No one is there but me. I still feel the hand on my shoulder, "Do not fear, my child."
"Who - who's there?" I question the wind.
"DO not fear," the wind said as it gave way to a black-clocked stranger.
"Who are you?" I whimper.
"I am the reaper assigned to your case, Joba. I am here to show you."
"Show me what?"
"How your death affects the people around you. Are you ready?"
I'm shaking. This isn't real. I'll wake up in the bathroom surrounded by EMTs. I squeeze my eyes shut and pinch myself. "OUCH!" It actually hurt. It is real. I take a deep sigh, "Yeah, I'm ready."
HIs black eyes penetrate my soul and without moving his lips, he says, "There are a few things we need to talk about before we go. First, you can't touch anyone or anything, no matter how much you want to. You'll just go right though them. Second, they can't hear you. No matter how loud you yell. And third, you can't change anything. No matter how much you may want to. All of this is set in stone. Or will be. Do you understand this?"
I shrink back, tears welling in my eyes, "Yes, I understand."
The entity takes me by the hand, almost as if he was trying to reassure me. I look up at him and can see the empathy in his black eyes. I look back down at out hands and can't help but to think of Colby. I never knew how much I could miss someone that wasn't even mine anymore. Colby's hands were always so warm; my little heater. Not mine anymore. The entity lets go of my hand. I'm still trembling.
"What do I call you?" I ask in a small voice. I'm on the brink of tears thinking about Colby.
"You may call me Reaper," the entity replies, "I do not have a birth mane like you."
Why not?"
"I was created to show people their lives and afterlives. I was not born like you. Therefore, I was not given a birth name."
I can't tell if the entity, Reaper, is upset after that comment, but I'm not confident enough to ask about it. Instead, I walk back into the bathroom. I still lying there, dead yet not dead. Body still bleeding out.
