The Survivors

Chapter Three: People.

There they were. . . Well. . There he was. .

Dead.

. . .

"Kyana! Kyana!"
"What do you want, Sorrel?"
"Come meet my new friend!"

My hand curled over Kyana's wrist. I was only, maybe, six years old. I hurried outside and pointed to my new friend outside, who called himself Jeriah. He had thin blonde hair, and his skin had turned gray. He had deep brown eyes, and under those were dark shades of purple, and sunken cheeks. He explained to me before that he had a disease. But assured it wasn't contagious. I didn't care. I had a friend. Someone I could talk to. Someone that actually liked me.

"What are you pointing at Sorrel?"
"My friend! His name is Jeriah, and he's my age, and he's very nice-"
"Sorrel. There's no one there."

Kyana couldn't see my friend.
I stared in confusion towards Kyana, and my eyes dimmed once looking back at Jeriah. I frowned, feeling embarrassed, angry, and puzzled. Eight year old Kyana couldn't pretend Jeriah was there, not even to make me happy, and because of that, every time I see Jeriah, I wish he was real so I could kill him myself.

Kyana and Oz get settled, but I find myself stuck in a glower pointed directly at Jeriah's irritating grin.
"What are you staring at, Sorrel? Stop being weird." Kyana looks almost ashamed.
I keep my piercing gaze on Jeriah, who is mockingly smiling even bigger.
"What's the frown for, love?"
"Well, you're here. I was happy when you were gone. When you weren't interfering with my life." I grit through my teeth.
"Oh! Then I came back at the perfect time!" He snickers.

It's odd. I almost couldn't recognize him. When I last saw him, I was just a 12 year old. As was he. He had a sunken face, skinny body, and his back arched like a bridge. He truly looked dead. But now, I didn't think it'd be possible for a ghost to look so. . . alive. His face had almost looked like it was sculpted into a smooth, sharp appearance. His once thin torso looked healthier and fit. Yet his skin was still gray. He walks over to me, and softly sits beside me.

"Admit it. You missed me."
"I don't miss dead people."
"Well, he doesn't think I'm dead."
Jeriah notices the pup staring at him curiously. I didn't think much of it. I have no idea what unnatural powers these creatures have.
"I knew you were crazy, but adopting the enemy's kid?"
"Exactly. He's a kid. A pup. If I train him well, he'd be a much stronger part of our. . ."
I pause and look around. All I had was Kyana and Oz.
". . .Our team."
"Some team you got."
I sigh. "Why am I even talking to you?"
"Because you don't have anyone else to talk to, love."
My nose crinkles in disgust once he says "love".
"Why do you call me that?"
All he does is smirk quietly. Based on that, I know I'll never get my answer. He's too much of a wimp to say why. Yet, he's a ghost. There's no way he'd get hurt mentally or physically. So why would he even try to keep it a secret?

I smooth my hand over the pup's rugged baby scales. It felt like thick bark. It was almost unreal. I look up to get a glance at Kyana, but am met with Oz's bright green eyes. How long has he been looking at me for? Maybe he wasn't even looking at me.

"You gonna name the thi- pup?" He asks.
Of course. He was looking at the pup. Not me.
"I'm not sure what I want to call him."
"He looks like a Tazmin." Kyana adds.
I cup my hands over his face to get a better look. He had an innocent appeal, but a mischievous glint in his coal colored eyes. He slightly reminded me of a Tasmanian devil.
"Tazmin it is."

. . .

"You said you were real!"
"I am, Sorrel."
"Then why can't she see you like I can!?"
". . . Only one person can. You."
My small, young mind couldn't make sense of the situation. I was angry. I still am. He lied to me, right to my face, and I made a fool of myself in front of the one person I looked up to.
"I- I'm sorry, Sorrel. I know It's hard to understand."
"You lied to me."
I collapse onto the hard ground and start sobbing. It felt horrible. But I was used to it. You make friends, they lie to you so they can keep you, and once you find out, it's either too late, or too soon. People didn't seem to think I was good enough. Of course I wasn't. . . I wanted to believe Jeriah. I wanted to believe he was especially made for me. Invisible to others, but not to me, because I was special.

But I got tired of his lies.
"Jeriah, I want you to leave me alone."
"W-why? I'm your friend-"
"My friends aren't dead. My friends aren't liars. Jeriah, how long are you gonna take to realize this?! You aren't my friend! You're just my imagination. You're just a fake person I made up in my head. I want you out of my HEAD. I WANT YOU TO LEAVE."
"Sorrel, I have nowhere else to go."
"I DON'T CARE. I don't want FAKE friends. I need REAL FRIENDS. LEAVE."

A single tear drooped over his bony cheek, and he disappeared. I'm glad he left. I didn't want a figment of my imagination tricking me into thinking I really did make a good friend. But. . .

Why did I miss him?


(I think I'll continue this one later. But yayyyy.)