|Dead Like Me
Author: xiMarionette PM
I never thought I would be alive again, particularly when I have no wish to be. But then again, life wasn't fair and I had first hand experience with that. Now, I'm a Guardian Angel who must protect the one who had awakened me.Rated: Fiction T - English - Romance/Hurt/Comfort - Chapters: 7 - Words: 28,463 - Reviews: 24 - Favs: 15 - Follows: 17 - Updated: 10-01-12 - Published: 08-23-11 - Status: Complete - id: 2945968
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Dead Like Me
Summary: I never thought I would be alive again, particularly when I have no wish to be so. But then again, life isn't fair, especially to the dead. Now, I am a Guardian Angel who must protect the one who had awakened me. Three-shot.
Chapter 1: The Unpleasant Awakening
The breeze whistled through, cooling the bodies that lay beneath the hot sun. The sun shone beautifully, feeding its invisible nutrients to all living organisms from around. Grass glowed with vitality, trees hummed with satisfaction, flowers stretched with happiness. This day was beautiful, providing everyone, anything and anyone with greatness.
The scene took place at a cemetery. Cars rolled in, driving slowly as they sought for their loved ones who had passed to the next world. The grass sighed, moving occasionally due to the soft wind. The plates on the floor, warmed up from the sun's rays, a bouquet of flowers in front of the tombstone here and there from families who visited the dead recently.
I blinked my eyes, watching a nearby family kneel before a tombstone, paying their respects. They were Asian, most likely Japanese, muttering foreign words beneath their breath as their hands shook back and forth. Incense was placed between their palms, lighted as the cherry scented fumes wafted everyone's senses.
My eyes traveled to the girl who sat before the family with a smile playing on her face. She was dressed in a school uniform, which consisted of black virgin shoes, white stockings, a blue plait skirt, a white dressing shirt with a blue vest over it. An angry red birthmark hovered over the Japanese girl's eye, much like a dog named Spot would have.
The Japanese girl, Chihiro, noticed me looking at her and her family. She smiled and waved her hand. "This is my family!" She chirped happily, over ecstatic that her family came to visit her. "You must come meet them!"
The edge of my lip lifted. I shook my head, smiling shyly. Chihiro's a dear, but I did not want to leave my tombstone.
I looked away, squinting as if the sun's rays bothered me. I looked down at my tombstone, the smile instantly disappearing. The nameplate was dusted, dirt obscuring both name and date.
After the brutal murder of my demise, my family left back to Germany, leaving me alone and scared. I guess I can understand their fear of staying here in the United States. My parents didn't see this place safe and wanted to protect my younger brother and sister from harm.
Lifting a finger, I placed it on stone, tracing outlines of a name.
A – N – N – E – N –
"Yoohoo!" An old woman called.
Alert, I looked up and saw an old woman making her way next to him. Her tombstone was next to mine.
"Oh, dearie, Mr. Sanders is just the beast even at his age." She giggled like a schoolgirl, sitting down atop of her stone. "Ah, just look at him right now."
Out of politeness, I did. Mr. Sanders was also an elder. He smiled, his dentures obviously not in his mouth.
As the old woman yapped her mouth off, I looked up at the sky and took in a deep breath. I never talked. Not to anyone. Every since I woke up here, I kept to myself, reserved and private. Once or twice the others would hear me mutter something, but that's only because I'll be in my mind, thinking of past memories. Oh, how they hurt.
Refusing to think of it, I blinked away forming tears.
I can still remember it.
The day I died.
Of course, like any other kid, I didn't take caution in my mother's words when she warned me about walking alone. Every teenager in high school thought they were immortal, ready head on to take challenges that didn't involve the epitome of death. I was in my freshman year of high school, the fresh fifteen-year-old who was stubbornly ready for awful seniors, sobbing cry stories of breakups and hellish, evil teachers. But, unfortunately, I never got the chance.
I took the road not taken and ended up kidnapped.
I died the same day.
Sadly, my story didn't make it to the nationwide news station. I was just another girl who died, whose body was found brutally slashed and raped repeatedly near some train tracks, stuffed in a black trash bag. A girl who had a life that meant to be filled with silly teenage drama and expectation, only to have it all ripped away from a small act of rebelliousness. And the culprits haven't been caught.
I groaned, holding a hand to my head as if I felt pain.
"…and then I told him to go away, but he…Dearie?" The elder woman crept closer to me, tentatively placing a hand on my shoulder. I shuddered at the contact, but did nothing to brush off her hand. It felt…nice, soothing. Something I hadn't felt in a long time.
"I'm…ok." I whispered, clearing my throat. I looked at her with a small smile knowing it would please her.
This elder woman, Trinity Loves has been my neighbor for the past ten years. She babbled on about her life, her memories and even pulled me closer when her loved ones came to visit her. The wired frames set on Trinity's face gave her the image of a grandma who would make you cookies and spoil you with love. But I've seen the way her sons and daughters are. They were well brought up with great posture. I grimaced. She must've been hardcore.
I inwardly groaned. If there was a God out there, please send Beatrice her peace and let her into Heaven already.
Beatrice approached me with a wide eye looked, which only meant one thing. Someone Passed.
"Guess what? James Passed!" Beatrice giggled, hopping down next to me. She completely ignored the frown on Trinity's face. "Oh, god, please don't let me find my peace!" The silly girl pleaded with her hands stretched upwards in a sarcastic manner.
"Beatrice!" Trinity reprimanded. "Do not make fun of the Lord! Gaining peace is something-"
"Yeah, yeah," She snorted, waving off Trinity's words. "I know the Lord, if He exists," She coughed into her hand. "He'll give us our peace when supposedly something happens."
"When you find your inner peace," I rephrased. I looked at her, pursing my lips as I did so. "Once you find that part inside of you, that's when you'll be accepted into His kingdom."
That's why I'm not able to go. I hold a deep anger inside of me, and it resides within. Hidden, but there because of my unfair death.
My life was swiped away from me.
Such thoughts swished away as Beatrice caught my attention once again. "But then I don't want to find my peace! I want to be a Guardian Angel!" She squealed, her blue eyes glinting magically at the thought of it.
In my thoughts I didn't want anything to do with being a Guardian Angel. I wanted to stay here in the cemetery even if I knew that I wasn't going to Pass any time too soon. Maybe even never. But I wanted to strand around here with my only partner who had been with me since I was brought here: my tombstone. Being a Guardian Angel was something that gave the opportunity to the dead. It allowed them to be alive again.
If there's someone who was in dire need of help, desperate to stay alive, they need to say your name in order for you to be summoned, to be permanently alive. Your soul intertwines with that person and you live as one, your life span is the same as him or her.
It's a curse.
"It's too painful to be alive." I whispered, plucking the grass that surrounded my headstone.
"But it's to be alive again!" Beatrice squealed, wrapping her arms around herself. "To once again to able to feel the sun heat your skin, to be able to taste food, to be able to love again!" She sighed prettily, throwing herself on the ground with a hopeless smile on her face. "Gods, how much I want to be alive again."
Beatrice passed away from leukemia. She longed for the life that had dwindled away at the tender age of seventeen. Her boyfriend would visit, always placing a single red rose on her nameplate. When he had come with a girl (specifically her best friend), Beatrice's heart broke. She was happy for him that he found someone to love and was even delighted that it was her friend, who suffered from many broken relationships. But it didn't mean that she didn't feel sorrow that she couldn't be the one to hold his hand.
I patiently listened to Beatrice chatter. I wasn't much of a talker, but I did love to listen. My eyes flickered around, watching as the dead grouped with their own clicks. Funny how the afterlife worked, it was no different from the living.
The dead can see both living and dead, and immensely enjoyed terrorizing the living with a few jokes here and there. Food, water and shelter were not a necessity. Socializing was definitely still a necessity.
A bitter smile awoke upon my face.
"Oh, my moms here!" Beatrice squealed. She immediately went to her designated spot, which lay adjacent to me. She quickly patted down her hair, throwing a leaf that had tangled in her hair with a grunt before smiling prettily at the weary woman that approached.
Her mother was thoughtful to the dead, carefully maneuvering her body around to avoid stepping upon the plates and where the dead laid. She approached Beatrice's plate, smiling sorrowfully. Crows feet deepened with that smile, as deep as the pain in her heart. Her working hands dusted off Beatrice's nameplate from dirt, grass and bugs. She then removed the plastic wrapping and rubber bands that held the bouquet of flowers she bought from a nearby flower shop. Placing those to the side, she filled up the small metallic cylinder (that resided in front of the plate) with water and plant food. With careful, tender hands, the flowers were placed inside.
Beatrice's smile slowly disappeared as the crease between her mother's grows grew. The lines around her mouth deepened as a sob racked from her body. Beatrice smiled sheepishly at Trinity and me. "Sorry, she's a bit of a drama queen sometimes."
"You're not supposed to leave before her. It's completely understandable." Trinity whispered with a small nod.
"I…I guess so." Beatrice said, turning her attention back to her weeping mother. "It's sad, but…I'm in no danger anymore. I'm pain free!"
"Are you?" I said so quietly beneath my breath that neither Trinity nor Beatrice heard me. I let out a sigh and returned my eyes to my silent, broken tombstone. My hand hovered over it, trying to wipe away the matters that covered it, but I couldn't. My hand simply couldn't do it. My heart clenched agonizingly as my hand woefully retreated.
Since the date of my death, I haven't been able to touch anything of the living. I hadn't realized how depressing it would be without haven't the ability to touch anything. Whether it be living, or it be dead, I couldn't touch it.
My eyes fluttered, braining moving mechanically in order to throw away those thoughts. It hurt to think.
"Nightfall is to come about." Trinity mumbled, moving her shawl closer around her neck. She shuddered, crossing her arms.
I remained quiet, turning my head to watch the sun turn a shade darker as it lowered itself into the mouth of the Earth.
The dead does not sleep. We are active the full twenty-four hours of the week. Some loved to feign the act of it, consumed by the nostalgia of a temporary rest the body was given when exhausted. Even when they closed their eyes, they hoped, prayed that they were given some insight of their previous lives, forgotten or not. The blackness did not offer a movie-time; there were no dreams, no memories, no nothing. But they still continued to try, determined to accomplish such an impossible deed.
I didn't even try.
To try and sleep as the other ghosts was something I didn't dare to try, even when Beatrice had tried to recommend it, claiming it did wonders to her mind. I refused, clamming up at the thought of being consumed by the darkness. The last memory I had when I was alive wrenched all peace and security of the dark. The slashes my body was graced with didn't kill him, only held me immobile and paralyzed as it was stuffed inside a garbage back.
I suffocated, seeing only the darkness with no strength to escape from.
During the nights, it was hard to cooperate with the falling sun. I once ran after it, hoping that I could catch it before it dispersed into the night, but it was impossible.
The years that have passed have done some deed, including Trinity who (God Bless her soul) managed to comfort me as a grandma would to her grandchildren. With her solace, I managed to meditate during the night, leaving everything that surrounded me ignored as I drew within myself in a coma-state.
Though my panic-attacks have ceased, it did not cure me of my fear.
I sighed, shaking my head from side to side to rid me of those awful thoughts, thoughts that only brought fear and pain. Trinity noticed and was about to speak, but I managed a small smile. "I'm fine," I told her, turning away to stare at the nonexistent sun.
The chill of the air set in, including the crickets that managed to jump its way into the barriers. One of the caretakers was lazy, forgetting to spray the supposed environmental friendly insecticide on the grass. I watched as a cricket bounded its way through.
The dead still chattered throughout the night, talking about reminiscence of the past, visitors and the latest gossip. They huddled in their groups, wandered around and chatted with others.
I slowly released the air that was held in my lungs, feeling the carbon dioxide tickle my lips before returning to the numb-like feeling I was so used to. My hazel eyes closed, ears perking at the sounds only to hum with the familiar buzzing sound that was active in my mind. My eyes saw nothing, closed off from the cemetery and concentrated on absolutely nothing, as I have practiced the years here.
Unfortunately, before I can reach that point of meditation, a voice broke my absorption.
"Why, lookie here," Trinity broke me away from my thoughts, bringing my attention to a boy who jumped over a brick wall. "We got us a visitor."
He landed on a vase of flowers, groaning as he arched his back blindly with Mrs. Jenkins, one of the dead, throwing a fit at him. Of course, the boy didn't notice. He hauled himself up, a hand to his injured back as he limped across the cemetery. His head occasionally turned around to glance behind him. I heard a panic gasp from him when voices echoed from beyond that wall.
"Not too shabby." Beatrice commented lowly, unfazed by the situation. I didn't dare voice my agreement.
From his profile, he looked young, but obviously older than someone fresh out of high school. Beautiful blond hair cut and styled above the nap of his neck, the front of it messily disheveled from his obvious escape. He wore dirt-stained jeans and a gray, plain sweater. Even when he was far away from me, I noticed the exhaustion in his body, heard the painful breaths the lungs took in and smelled the earthy, male sweat on him.
The boy glanced over his shoulder before bringing himself up to his feet. I thought he was going to continue running forth, or at least turn towards the direction of the gates which lay opposite of me. But he didn't. He turned and ran towards me.
The color of his eyes stole the air from my body: pure blue, crystal blue.
Suddenly, such a creature captivated me. I felt the need to ensnare such a beautiful specimen and hide him away from the world, and allow my greed to harness the escape of him. Though I died young, unable to learn much of the opposite sex, I did learn of likes, crushes, and puppy love.
Movement from behind his head caught my attention. My eyes slightly narrowed at the three dark figures that jumped over the same ledge this boy had, landing on Mrs. Jenkin's vases as if they had much experience jumping over an eight-foot wall.
"Get back here, Alrik!"
Alrik. Noble leader. It was such a fitting name for a beautiful creature. I turned back to see Alrik's panic-stricken face, furrowing my brows until my eyes widened large. They meant to kill him! Such a thought made me breath hard, harsh with either rage or fear. I didn't know what of. Who were they to take a life? It was not theirs to have complete control of.
My attention on Alrik, who was crawling due to his injured back and leg, was ripped away by Beatrice. She sat on her headstone, pounding on it as she chanted below her breath, "Say my name, say my name, say my name."
I didn't notice his head slightly cocking to the side in question.
It was then I realized how some of the dead, young, old, male, female, big-boned, and thin were leaning forward, their eyes harden with resolve as their lips barely moved, whispering the same words Beatrice was.
"Say my name, say my name, say my name."
Confused, I turned to Trinity who sat back, arms crossed over her chest and staring at the blond boy with a small smile of mysteriousness. Angered at the thought that she held amusement over Alrik's possible death, I gritted through my teeth, "Why are you smiling?"
Instead of being shocked at my snapping, she turned to me with that same smile. "There's going to be a Guardian Angel born tonight."
Every emotion I felt before left my face, replacing it with astonishment. "W-what?" I said, turning back to see Alrik screaming profanities at the three males who hovered over him, waving their arms threateningly and kicking at him with such vigorous power. Even when my blood boiled at the outnumbered situation, my mind was busy thinking about the possible Guardian Angel.
In order to become a Guardian Angel, your name must be said by someone alive that are about to be thrown into the land of the dead; someone who is so desperate to continue to live in the life of warmth and touch. It was the only was to become a Guardian Angel, which was one of the main reasons why there are so few. Who would die in a cemetery of all places? And even if they did, it would either be by their own hand or of natural causes. And if not, there were no whispers of any deceased name.
I shuddered, wrenching my eyes close as I thought about it: to be alive once again.
I didn't want it. It's too painful to be dead. To not be able to touch, eat, feel the warmth of the sun, of an embrace…the thought of leaving everything so joyful behind, or just at an arm's length was suffering. And to be able to see people with smiles on their face when mine is dead of such things only struck me harder.
Before I knew it, I gave my back to the beautiful creature that was at the process of being pummeled over and over. The sounds of fists hitting flesh resonated in my head, bringing me back to the painful night when I was treated as an animal, worse than an animal.
Beatrice's groans and jeers irritated me. But when she began to scream and cry, I turned to glance at her to see her pointing right behind me, eyes wide with wounded disappointment. "Please! Say my name! I want to be a Guardian Angel so bad, please!"
Curious, I rotated the upper portion of my body slightly, twisting my head to the side and gaped when I saw the boy's bloodied face. He breathed heavily, blood splattering over my headstone as he coughed. His head fell near by bottom of the headstone, body shaking and gasping like the dead engine of a car.
The expression on his face shook me to the core: it was an expression of acceptance.
And though I wanted him to be saved badly, I didn't dare do it. Someone had to save him, someone had to! How could they leave someone so defenseless in this kind of situation? The need to protect him welled up inside me like helium in a balloon. I wanted him to be saved and sheltered, but I wasn't going to be the one to do it.
I turned my head away from him, ducking it into the crevice of my arm as I drew my knees to my chest and wrapped my arms around it.
As angry as I was to my cowardice, I had no intention of saving him.
"Say my name! Please, say it! It's Beatrice Morrington!"
I tried to shut everything away, ignoring the screaming girl next to me, the dead insistent whispers and the swimming lake in Alrik's lungs as he coughed. When I tried to meditate as I used to, I found it hard, especially with the reoccurring events of my death playing just three feet away from me. When I heard the weak starting of words, I stilled, as did everyone else.
"Ah…anne…anne…en…." Alrik struggled.
My body turned, crouched a foot away from my headstone as I stared at Alrik in utter horror. He pushed himself up with his quivering arms as he read my headstone.
"No!" Beatrice shrieked, crying pitifully to see him attempting to speak once more. "She doesn't even want to be alive again! She doesn't want to do this! I want it, I want it so bad." She sobbed, wailing into the night as a wolf would to the moon.
"Annen!" Alrik screamed. Displeasure covered his face, and with one arm he supported his body, using the other to wipe away the dirt and dust that collected through the ten years of no care.
The men behind him laughed. "What do you think you're doing, Alrik? Are you not ready to die?"
Alrik's pretty face twisted with a snarl that shook me to my bones. He ignored them, spitting on my headstone to clear some of the lodging mud that refused to evict from it's place. "A-annette Hirsch. Annette Hirsch. Annette Hirsch!"
The sound of Beatrice's wail and Trinity's gentle chuckle didn't reach my ears as my body went icy cold. There wasn't a split second before I was forced down into the ground by invisible hands, six-feet under and stuck there for a second before my body started to warm. It was so far deep into the darkness that I began to panic, attempting to thrash around and find the light, but I was paralyzed.
The warmth that collected within my chest slowly spread through my body. I felt my longs draw longer, arms growing slender and body shaping into a form that was so different from my fifteen-year-old self. Before I knew it, the sound of cracking wood echoed and dirt dribbled down my face.
I coughed, turning my head to the side and plugging the hole. But whatever had held the dirt stable was now breaking down. With renewed strength, I fought my way through, forcing my body upward from the one hundred and eighty degree angle it was at. My fingers clawed at the dirt, shoving it to the side as I worked my way up. With eyes completely shut, I depended on my senses to reach land.
When I had felt my hand reach empty space, I kicked, clawed furiously, determined to get oxygen within my lungs.
An insane-like giggle escaped my lips as I finally made it. I pushed my head through the small hole my hand made and sucked in air as if I were a fish deprived of water. At the moment my eyes opened, I saw Alrik's face full of complete terror and morbid fascination. I looked past him to see the three who had attacked him.
I listened to the voice in my head and snarled at the trespassers, "Leave now!" I bellowed.
For a while, I didn't think they'd listen and hesitated for a moment, fearing that my petite-self wouldn't be able to run them away. But in no less than two seconds, the three turned tail, the blood in their face completely drained.
As soon as they disappeared, I sighed heavily and felt my body slack. Half of my body was out of the hole I clawed my way out of. My face pressed against the headstone, feeling the cool touch of it. Immediately, I straightened and stared at it, unable to believe that I could finally feel after ten years since my death.
Blood that had splattered on the grainy object from Alrik's beaten up self had smeared on my face when I had collapsed forth. My hand drew up and fingers lightly touching my face only to withdraw and see the red substance slathered over my warm hands.
"It's not fair, Trinity! It's not fair!"
I turned to the side, unable to believe that I can still see Beatrice, Trinity and every other person of the dead. My attention went back to my hand.
They were warm.
"Well, well, well, what do we have here?"
This is a three-shot. I have more than half of it finished and am excited to share! (: I'm also thinking to make it into five chapters instead of three, but I'll just have to wait and see, haha.
I'm back in school. NOOOOOOOOOOOOO! My beautiful summer has been wasted inside the house, doing nothing but cleaning, watching movies and typing, haha. Someone kidnap me and put me in a shack to write forever Dx Oh wells. So, because of this, I won't be able to update as soon as I would like to :c Left a note on my profile, go check it out if you want more details :D
The part where Annette screamed at the three men made me laugh when I imagined it. But then again, who wouldn't run when there's a body crawling out of a grave? xD
I'm not sure how strong I'm going to make this story, so I'm going to keep it at a "T" for now. Unless you guys want some sexiness and hotstuff, then I'll be glad to bump it up ;D I leave it in your hands to decide x)
This is my first time doing it in a first person's point of view. I hope I didn't scratch it up since I'm so used to third person D:
Hope you enjoyed~ ;D