The Lost Corpse

Chapter 2: The Corpse's Narration 2

He crouched down, blocking my view, and took my bones out one by one, then pieced them back together. Behind him was another gravestone. I felt he probably intended for me to sit with my back against it, but after being disassembled, my neck no longer volunteered to support my head. So, he held my head in his hands, while the rest of my body leaned against the gravestone behind him.

Even though he sat very close to me, my neck unavoidably twisted and elongated, looking extremely uncomfortable. How much enmity do I have with him that he had to torment me even after my death? I voiced my thoughts in my mind, but no sound came out. His hand cradled my mandible; his sleeves were black. He just sat there without moving, and so I looked helplessly at the opposite gravestone. I didn't see any soul, just a large block of cement with a single photograph on top.

The photograph showed a middle-aged woman, someone I didn't recognize. I'm not very clear on what I look like, but I'm a guy, even though my little brother has already decomposed... He turned my head to face him. Fine, fragmented hair; very thin. This was the first time he spoke to me, "Do you remember?"

My non-existent heart suddenly thumped. Did I kill this woman and then run into the forest to commit suicide, while her son sought revenge? I really can't remember anything, perhaps amnesia is my way of concealing my despicable actions. He fiddled with my skull, causing me to gently shake it, then he said, "Let's go home first; you're too tired and need rest."

I was placed back into the black backpack. I've rested for many years and not felt tired at all. I think I need to think carefully about what I did before my death and how I died. But I can't remember, just the forest, leaves, insects, alternating rain and scorching sun. That's my entire memory. I don't think I was a deranged person. If he needs me to atone for something from my past, it's okay; I'm always idle.

Back at his house, he used "502" to mend me. It takes quite an imagination to associate my bones with a pair of leather shoes, especially considering the tiny area where the head connects to the neck, and my head is so heavy... Well, that's getting off track. After finding "502" ineffective, he neatly arranged my bones in the shape of a person on the sofa, then mimicking a phone call motion, he went to another room. It's rather comfortable, though having a coffin would be even better.
(Super glue that can be used in leather, rubber, plastic, wood, metal, and paper)

I kept my eyes open; There was an old light bulb hanging above me, connected to the ceiling by a piece of exposed wire, casting yellow light. The room didn't feel very large, probably one of those old-style residential buildings. The soundproofing wasn't great, and his voice grew louder, probably arguing on the other end of the phone.

A weirdo.

I started to miss the forest, even though it's four seasons and flourishing and withering wasn't for me.

He finally returned to the living room, holding a bowl, half-kneeling by the edge of the sofa, scooping a bit of porridge to my mouth, or rather, my teeth. "Have a little," he even smiled faintly. But I couldn't control my teeth, and besides, I was chilled by his behavior of feeding a skeleton-like me. I have no memory, but I'm sure the normal world isn't like this. For example, that girl, she ran when she saw me.

But what is the normal world really like? I'm firmly bound within this skeleton, neither reincarnating nor turning into a ghost. Isn't this normal? His hand remained still for a while, before putting the spoon back in the bowl. Then, he leaned down, and his lips brushed against my teeth. In the empty cavity of my missing nose, I seemed to feel his breath.