Death By A Notebook

Death

You know what sucks about death? The people you love most die, and there's nothing you can do about it. I loved my big brother, I loved him so much! He was like my knight in shining armor when I was in trouble, even though I didn't care. He was innocent, and Kira killed him with one fellow swoop, and what's worse is that he made it obvious that he was a test subject for death, a useless guinea pig. I hate Kira, I hate Kira, I HATE KIRA! I haven't changed much since the death, so no one has noticed anything. They never even asked me if I was alright, they just looked at me, pitied me. Everyone wanted to know how someone like me, could be so emotionless. I didn't ask to be this way, it's the way I am and I deserve better. I wish, I wish I could just get revenge on him, find him, kill him. What sucks, is that now that my big brother is dead, I don't doubt that I'll kill myself eventually, I want to die. It isn't fair, he was innocent, Kira killed an innocent man, his judgement was wrong. He is not justice, justice does not exist. And when I mean Kira killed an innocent man, I mean that my brother was framed, he never did anything wrong. He was framed by manufacturing drugs, a thief ran by and planted some goods in his pocket. One thing led to another, the police was chasing that man, and that police officer cuffed my brother, his name is Vylad. Vylad was the best big brother I could have and now I just stay inside on weekends instead of going somewhere with him. He would always take me to meet his friends from college, and I would bring home friends from my junior year of High school. I just feel empty without him you know? It hasn't been long since he died, just a week and the funeral is today.

I lean back in the front seat of the obsidian black my mom drove, and the breeze beats my face and short chestnut hair violently. I wore black on black on black. One of my favorite color which signifies my soul, my mom pulled up in the parking lot of where the funeral was held, her make-up already ruined with tears. My name is Skulton, but everyone calls me Skull from the pronunciation, how original.

"Are you going to talk anytime soon?" My mom yelled at me her voice classy, like a british accent."You haven't spoken to anyone for a week, I'm worried about you." She teared more.

"Is there anything wrong? Skull! Skulton! Answer me young man! How am I supposed to know if you need anything?" My mother sobbed, she cleaned her face with a soft napkin and the both of us walked to the grave where everyone was sitting, we walked to the front row and sat closest to the body, ready to be buried six feet under.

Silence.

Rows of chairs were set up, speakers surrounding the chairs, and a podium for the priest that would speak for Vlyad. The priest walked down the aisle professionally. He tapped the microphone and cleared his throat. He looked at the carcass, then the family of the carcass sitting in the front row, A bird, some clouds, and back at the dead body. It looked like he didn't know what he was doing. Long story short security came and took the man off, the real priest entered the area of the funeral and stood center in front of the podium.

"We came here today to see the body of Vylad Green, buried. He has lived a happy life with his Mother, Father, and little brother. I know his life was very fortunate. However, with every death comes a new life. Now would someone like to say any words?" The priest walked down from the height of the podium and handed the microphone to one of his friends that clearly wanted to speak.

I sat there, just blank, empty, hollow, void, a lifeless shell. I stared down at the green grass being blown in the wind, such a warm spring day. I couldn't bare spend much time at this funeral, I bit the inside of my lip and clawed my left wrist with my right hand. Blood traveled from both spots of the body I purposely self harmed from, foam came from my mouth and I shook having a seizure. It was dark and cold the rest of that day.

The next day, I wake up in a hospital, not just any hospital a mental hospital, I can tell by the name of the brochures on the far table I could see. I wake up in the white room attached to all kinds of medical equipment. A nurse sits next to my bed and she releases me from its clutches. Neither of us speak a word, she just signals me to follow her, and we end up in a very classy room. A bear rug, fireplace, two comfortable chairs and a table in between. From behind it looks like no one is in the chair, but when I see it from the front a psychologist sits there and two cups of tea were sitting on that table. I was forced to sit down by the nurse, she left quickly after that.