Doppled in Gray [Discontinued]

Doppled in Gray

 Hi fellow writers/awesome readers, I'm putting my writing skills to the test, writing in a new tense, trying to always come up with original ideas and scenes, I'm really trying to see what I can do and how good I can do it. I would really appreciate your feedback so don't be shy. I love the constructive criticism.

There might be a lot of grammatical errors/typos in earlier chapters because I didn't bother to edit at all. The entire manuscript is still in rough draft form but I will edit the earlier chapters for grammar and spelling as soon as I finish the story which, as I am writing this, is more than half done

Enjoy! :D

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Prologue

Most women say that real men cry, but I've never seen one. Not until today. 

He walks into the kitchen to get some water and is there for twenty minutes. When I hear the glass shatter I stumble in, grumbling about how expensive glass is these days.

It is then that I stand facing Pher's crumpled body. A cold shock passes through my very soul when I see such a strong man like my brother in such distress. Every tear that falls to the glossy metal ground is like a bullet hitting my shocked exterior head on. 

“Pher, what has happened? What's wrong?” I ask. But he doesn't answer. He just looks at me with bloodshot eyes and sighs with ragged breath.

I crouch next to him, my eyes filled with worry. My hands tighten into fists, trying to hold on to the sanity that was there only moments ago.

“Please, tell me what happened.”

His amber eyes go hard and finally he shows me his left wrist. A line of blood drips from his palm and my brow furrows. I begin to speak aloud, but before I do the words catch in my throat. On his wrist is the deathband. 

“Daze, you're my sister. I'm not going to leave you, I refuse.” 

The tears are gone from his eyes but his voice quivers. I want him to laugh, to tell me that this is all some big joke. That he can take the band off and show me it's just a fake. But when I look into his eyes I can tell that it is true. 

My long thin fingers reach out as I examine the deathband for a moment. It is a simple bracelet two inches wide and made of a black shiny metal, but it shines like onyx. On the top is a tiny blood red button. The one that tells us how much time they have given us. My index finger hovers over the button hoping that maybe if I dont press it life can go back to normal pretending that it has never happened. His eyes meet mine. 

“Do it.” His voice is hoarse, lifeless.

I take a gulp of air. My palms are sweaty and I still am in slight disbelief. I press the button. In the miniscule hole where the blood red button was a white light goes up. And with it, numbers. 5:59:59 and counting down.

I tremble. Six hours. They have only given me six hours. Less than that if you count all the formalities that are about to take place. His arms wrap around me, and I realize that warmth has suddenly become a sharp contrast to the raging emotions inside of me. All I can feel is a chill.

Although, the scene is now something I am used to. Us, my brother and I together. Him comforting me. But the clock isn't stopping for us. Six hours until my only family is gone. Six hours until our town has come and gone to say their last good-bye. Six hours until the gods take him away from me. Six hours until Pher is dead. 

Pher moves away from me without a word. As my eyes lock with his I can see how disappointed he is, not only with himself, but with our world.

My head spins as I pick up the pieces of the glass. Once it has all been swept up I send out the message via my armex. One of our few traditions here. The last goodbye. I sit down in a chair, brush away the natural green highlight that always seems to stick to my face and wait for the first people to arrive.