Dead Dawn

Chapter Two: The way things are

It's been five years since then. I remember wandering aimlessly in the rainy season of spring, looking for shelter, somewhere safe. But in reality, I wanted shelter from my problems. my grief, and my guilt, why did this happen? Did I do something wrong? The sound of my mom's voice calling out to me, the way my dad's body shook as he struggled to process his situation. And the faces, the faces of my family with tears streaming down their faces are burned into my retina. The scene of that night prevents me from sleeping. Not because of what happened to me, the pain that lasted a few minutes. But the pain I caused them, that will last a lifetime.

I wandered for a week straight Until my birthday came, and I had to take shelter in a broken-down house to hide from the rain, which poured down harder than ever, banging on my head for hours.

The house was in horrible shape, while the rotting walls and withering roof did protect me from the rain, the wind flowing through the broken windows kept me as cold as before. And the whispering winds only got louder as winter came months later. Yet still I was scared to leave.

It was cold, it was scary, but this broken-down house called to me whenever I stepped through the door frame. And after going so long without shelter I only wondered how much further I would have to go to find somewhere the cold comfort provided by this abandoned home.

And so, I ended up staying, shutting myself away from the world in my house of torn walls for five years.

I'm not sure how, but rumors started to surface. "a demon lives in that house" "stay away. The bounded spirit lives in that house" I would hear those walking past with their friends share their stories. But they all shared the same detail. "He wears a thin flowing white robe with black lining. And his dirty Grey hair covers a horrible secret, his hollowed out white eye. Which contains the souls of those who dare trespass on his property. And if you look carefully on a full moon, for only a second you can see him staring out the windows of this torn down estate.

High school students would often congregate on my porch, sharing their own stories. "I made it through the entire building, and if you make it through every room, he'll reveal himself and chase you down lusting for your soul, I barely made it out alive"

I've never really liked these stories. Does anybody stop to think about me? Not about the bounded spirit. But about Kazumi? If I was upset with visitors, I wouldn't let high school students sit on my porch. Everyone had a different story about the bounded spirit. And they always end with a violent death, and an intense hatred of the living. And worse of all I could never even hope to defend myself.

I couldn't kick those kids off of my property even if I wanted to. My words never reach anyone. If I try to speak every living person gets chills, so I learned to just stop talking to save everyone the stress.

Those kids upset me often, but I was happy for the company. They lied often but I'd do the same thing for attention, even back when I was alive. Their stories were the only form of entertainment in my "life" so even with my annoyance at their behavior I found myself waiting eagerly for their return

Unfortunately, one day, they stopped coming. It was a lonely week, I kept telling myself. "They just got sick; they'll be back tomorrow." I thought. "They love it here" I thought. "They sit here every day for hours to relax after their classes." I thought. "They wouldn't leave you..." I silenced that thought. "You're lying to yourself" I thought.

As weeks turned to months, I grew to accept that it was time to move on. And then one day out of the blue I woke up to the sound of footsteps on my porch once again!!

It was early, too early. "Why are they here? Is it summer already?" I thought. I wasted no time as I rushed to the door as my excitement turned to confusion upon the sight of a dozen men clearly dressed for construction standing before my broken-down residence.