Sleeping like the Dead

Chapter 1: My Murder

My name is Brandy, and I’m dead.

I think.

I’m pretty sure anyway.

Actually, my full name is Brandon Royce, but everyone just calls me Brandy. Or they did anyway. Just your average living person, yep, that was me. Black hair, blue eyes, tall and always up for a game of soccer.

I liked being alive too. I mean most people do. I wouldn’t have called myself an unattractive person either, since many girls had told me otherwise, not to mention my very doting mother’s compliments. But you can never trust family when it comes to physical appearance, right? The comment I got most often was that I was “charming”. Yeah. You heard right. Not “hot”, not “cute”, and certainly not “sexy”, but “charming”. How the hell are you supposed to take that? Is it a compliment?

None of that matters anymore I guess. How can you be charming when you don’t have a pulse to speak of?

It happened in a weird way, my murder. Then again, I guess all murders are pretty messed up that way. I really didn’t see it coming. Nobody does when a serial killer is involved.

It had been a nice day, the first day like that since I’d started grade twelve. We’d already received a calendar from the school telling us when guest speakers from all sorts of Universities and Colleges would come visit our grade to tell us about the courses they offered and the scholarships we were eligible for and what jobs we could study for… whatever, I didn’t want to think about that stuff at the time.

I’d been walking home with Cole, as usual. The two of us, we’d been best friends since we were in grade two. He had always been about an inch or two shorter than me, with no chance of ever catching up. He was shy too and kind of a weakling, so I always felt very protective of him, like he needed me. He kind of gave me a purpose in life.

I’d already decided to go to the same University as him, I didn’t care which one. I wasn’t too concerned about my future, but I was concerned about him. He wasn’t especially smart, a B student really. Not the dorky nerd type, just clumsy. He did have glasses though, but they weren’t too big and they suited his face. His hair was dark brown and he had this darker tanned sort of skin color (he was adopted so his nationality was kind of a mystery to the both of us, but I think there was some Indian in there), and he had these bright grey eyes. I was quite aware that a lot of the eleventh graders had crushes on him. He never believed me when I told him so, though. But he had a really hard time making friends in the first place, and I got the feeling he didn’t want any new friends as long as I was around. I was all the support he needed in life, he told me that once. I don’t think he ever had much self-confidence either…maybe that was a part of it.

The reason I worried about him so much was because I think he wanted to kill himself in tenth grade. Despite my efforts to keep him safe, it seemed he was getting bullied during some of his classes. I could tell he was extremely depressed, and he wasn’t eating during lunch. And one time I noticed fresh cuts on his wrist. It scared me.

He didn’t tell me directly, probably too embarrassed to admit it or maybe he was so far gone he didn’t think I’d care anymore, and I could understand that. But I’d noticed the bruises and how he’d rush out of gym, the only class we didn’t have together, like he was afraid that someone was chasing after him or something.

I talked to his mom, convinced her to have him change schools. I changed too of course. Mom was always really understanding about that stuff. I don’t know why teenagers never tell stuff to their parents, I mean overprotective moms in general get a kick out of knowing what’s going on in your life. Besides it makes the household less tense. Anyway, I always told her what was going on, and that’s why she let me change schools without making a fuss. See? You tell her stuff, she gives a little back. Magic, no?

After that Cole’s condition improved a lot. The next time I checked his wrists during a sleepover when he was still asleep, I saw that the cuts were healing up and there were no new ones. He ate a lot more, gained back all the weight he’d lost during those stressful few months, and smiled more often. At the new school I talked to the Principal and made sure that I was in every single class with Cole, telling her about the bullying he’d suffered through before. Principal Joyce was very understanding about the situation and agreed to pull a few strings for us. I told Mom, she said she was proud that I took initiative and that I was a good friend.

I never told Cole. I never felt the need to. Maybe I should have. Maybe he’d have wanted to know. Sometimes it makes people feel safe when they realize that someone is looking out for them.

But let me tell you, there’s nothing scarier that realizing that one of your close friends might be suicidal. It’s the most terrifying feeling.

Since then things had gotten much better. That day I remembered thinking that Cole seemed to be gaining confidence in himself, he was more talkative, he was even talking about getting a part-time job this summer. Just last year he’d assured me that he’d never be able to get a job because he’d be too scared of the social aspect. And now he’d decided he wanted to go into psychology, to help people. I remember feeling really proud of him.

I don’t remember exactly when we started to notice the man who was following us. He was big and bald and he was wearing a brown jacket. Really pale skin too. We cut behind a few stores to lose him, but then he really started chasing us. In a panic we’d run into the first building in sight, but inside it was empty and all the furniture had been removed. It was probably being renovated, but I didn’t have time to think about that, it was too late to try and run back outside.

I was faster than Cole and I had to practically carry him up the stairs. When I glanced back I saw that the man had a knife. I ran us into an empty room with a lock and clicked it shut. It had been too close. Within seconds the man was banging and yelling something horrible, but I wasn’t listening. My heart was pumping so fast, I’d never been so scared before. Cole was so terrified he was on the verge of tears.

I remember him whimpering something useless like “what do we do?” and ignoring him. Then I’d spotted the closet. I’d rushed over and checked it. It had a lock on the inside too, of all the luck. I looked over at Cole. He was shaking all over, every bang on the door making him jump violently. I wondered how long it would take before he broke it down.

“Cole!” I called, gesturing to the closet.

He ran over to me and got inside, then he quickly looked up at me with his big grey eyes, a hand gripping my sleeve, pulling insistently for me to go in with him. And something in me stirred, despite all of my terror, and I made a split second decision. All I’d ever based my life on was protecting this one person, if I let him die now it would have all just been a waste. I wanted to make sure Cole would be alright. I wanted to make sure Cole went to University and got a good job and had a future.

He knew what he wanted out of life. He had a plan, unlike me. I wanted Cole to live. Weighing the two, his life seemed to be worth far more than mine.

I handed him my cell, then I shut the door and held it shut. I knew he wouldn’t have let me do it if I’d told him what I had planned. I felt guilty and I was absolutely terrified. I knew he would have told me the opposite, that he’d have said that my life had “more value”, but this wasn’t a situation where we had time to argue.

“Just lock it and call the cops!” I’d screamed as I put all of my weight against the door, “I’ll stall him! Do as I say! Please!”

“What! No! NO! Brandy! What are you DOING?!? Come in here with me! Don’t do it! DON’T!” he screamed and kicked and pounded and did everything but dial the 911.

“He’ll get us both before the cops get here if I don’t! Don’t worry about me, lock the FUCKING door and dial!”

I don’t swear very often, and Cole knew it. He knew I was scared. His screaming stopped abruptly. He knew I was right. I could hear him panting desperately behind the door.

“B-Brandy…!” he whimpered.

He’d stopped trying get out of the closet as he heard the door to the room burst open. The man had kicked it down and he was lumbering in. I’d heard the closet lock click behind me, a hesitant and reluctant sound, and suddenly I felt very relieved, and I forgot that I was afraid for a few seconds.

That didn’t last long. I remember it all too clearly.

I tried to run, but he grabbed me and bashed me hard against the wall. I felt like my spine had shattered. He threw me to the ground, I screamed and brought up my hands, I even got a good punch in. I hoped to God that Cole was dialing. I didn’t want to die.

With a swift movement the man dove the knife into my arm just below the elbow, and I felt it hit bone. It was the most horrible searing pain I’d ever experienced. I screamed and kicked to no avail, those horrible wide mad eyes staring down at me as he smiled and pulled the blade down in a sharp movement, slicing down my arm just an inch from my wrist. The white pain was blinding and all I could do was scream. My eyes were shut but I could feel the blood spraying and oozing from my arm. I was probably crying too, not that could tell or anything. I wished I could just lose consciousness already.

No such luck. He yanked out the knife, a fishing knife I realized as I squinted up at it in terror, and I thought he was going to stab me in the eye. But instead he brought it down carefully just beneath my left eye and cut a thick line under it down to my chin, laughing all the while. With my still functioning arm I tried to make him stop as I yelled, but he slapped my hand away as if it were a fly disturbing him while he crafted a work of art. He did the same under my other eye and all I could feel was pain, so much pain. I gripped his arm and dug my nails into his flesh as I howled in agony.

I wanted it to be over. I just wanted it to stop. Someone save me!

But not once did I regret what I did, not once. Even as I felt his bloody hands, covered in MY blood, close around my neck and start to squeeze, I just hoped the cops were on their way. I just prayed Cole would be spared. That was all I had left.

At first I still tried in vain to make him stop, using the last of my strength to tear at his face and hair with the one arm. I could feel my chest constricting, my lungs started to burn, but compared to the pain in my arm it felt like nothing. The pain grew and I started to be confused as to why my arm wasn’t obeying me anymore, it was just slipping down to my side as everything started to go numb.

It was right then that I accepted that I was about to die. I was terrified. I wanted to live! The pain faded, all of it, even in my arm. I could no longer hear the man laughing, and my struggles stopped completely. I could feel my body trembling still, but I gave in. I close my mouth. My eyelids drooped. I heard my heart stop. Everything faded to black.

Dead. That was my last thought.

Then I started to wonder why I was thinking of my last thought. Then I started to wonder why I was thinking at all. My body was limp, my heart had stopped and I wasn’t breathing. But I was still thinking? Did this happen to everyone when they died? I wasn’t sure how long I lay like that, but I heard the madman banging on the closet door.

Then I noticed the sirens outside, and people stomping up the stairs. I heard it faintly, like I was wearing earmuffs. I had a feeling my eyes were still slightly open, even if I couldn’t see. I heard them beat my killer down and shoot him, in the leg probably because he was screaming and cursing a lot. I could feel someone standing over me. The “someone” swore under his breath at the sight of me. I must’ve looked pretty awful.

“Shit…Too late…” I heard him mutter.

“Hey, here’s the kid who called!” a female officer called to the others as the closet door creaked open, “It’s okay son, they’ve taken the man downstairs…”

“OH MY GOD!” I heard Cole scream, and I could hear his voice very clearly for some reason. I heard him run to my side, frantic clumsy stomps against the wooden floor as he approached me, and then he screamed again. I’ve never heard a human being make that kind of noise. Then again, I’d probably sounded worse earlier. I couldn’t remember. I felt Cole slump over me and I heard him sob into my soundless chest.

I’m sorry, I wanted to say. I had to save you Cole, don’t you see? You had something going for you. If we had both died, everything we’d done up till now would be worth nothing at all. I don’t regret it Cole, I promise.

But Cole continued to cry, and my lips and tongue remained motionless as I felt his warm hand close my unseeing eyes.

And for some selfish reason, I felt glad that I had someone here to cry over my passing. I was glad that I’d been there to hear it.

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End of Chapter 1

End of the first chapter.

I swear to GOD this story is will get to be much funnier in later chapters! I PROMISE! But knowing a bit of background regarding Brandy and Cole will be very useful for you later on.

Just wait until you get to hear what Brandy looks like NOW!

I’d LOVE (hint hint) to hear from you about what you think of the whole plot and the ideas so far, so please leave me a review if you have the time! I’ve never written in first person before! This is a trial chapter! I need to know if it’s decent or not! Tell me if it sucks!

Thanks so much for reading,

-Chicken Ice Cream-