Life Underground

High School No School Dead School

A/N: I'm so glad I've never had to go through a close friend committing suicide, but my old classmate's dad killed himself and it was so hard. If anyone needs to talk, message me because I am here for you.

It takes a while to sink in. I'm actually dead. I did it. I killed myself. I'm not sure if I should feel dread, or morbid satisfaction. I tried enough times, but it seems so weird that I've finally done it. Watching my parents, I begin to feel bad. I turn back to the guy who walked up and thought at me (or whatever you can call our telepathic communication), and frown.

So I'm... dead?

It would appear so.

I thought the afterlife would be different.

What, heaven and angels or hell and fire? Sorry to disappoint you, kid, but this is it. You stay on Earth – or an imprint of you does. Welcome to the afterlife.

I turn away, mildly disturbed by our form of communication and starting to regret the whole 'jumping off a bridge' thing. Especially when I overhear Mom and Dad talking about letting Hazel (that's my sister) know about my death. This is the part I wasn't looking forward to, but I selfishly thought I wouldn't be here to witness it. The crying, the despair, the blaming, the pain that my family is going through now. It's almost worse than living through the hell I'd been enduring.

To distract myself, I start thinking about my school and my classmates. I wonder if any of them will miss me; probably not, as none of them really even knew me. You get shoved into a locker a few times and then you realize that friendship with bullies isn't the most important thing in the world. I did have one friend, a guy named Kyle, and I'll miss him. Hopefully he'll be okay.

Staring at my dead body gets weird after a while, and I've realized that since I'm dead I don't actually cry. I'm just left with an empty feeling, but I have a hunch it won't ever go away. I decide to head over to school to see what's going on. I think I had a test today.

As soon as it's set in my mind that I want to go to school, I blink and I'm standing on the campus. Huh. Perks of being a ghost, I suppose. I walk through the door – which has lost its glamour and is becoming just convenient now – and amble down the halls, fearlessly tucking my hands in the pockets of the jeans I was wearing when I died and finally understanding what it must feel like to walk through crowds of people without worrying about who is going to shove you into a locker. It's a powerful feeling, and I start to smile.

Until I reach Kyle's locker. He is getting his books out and looking lonely, and I am suddenly reminded that he doesn't have many friends. Sure, he has more than me, but they don't really hang out with him at school. I've left him alone, and I feel bad. I feel even worse when he gets called to the front office second period, and I'm at an all time low when I'm standing in the room next to him as they break the news. Half of me is upset when he breaks into tears, and the other half feels weird. Who thinks they'll ever hear their name when someone says 'I hate to tell you this but your friend passed away'?

I'm actually kind of honored when they announce my death over the intercom, and I'm shocked when people begin to cry. I guess no one wants to know the dead kid. Turns out these people have feelings. Who would have thought? I only feel bad about Kyle and the nice girl in my math class who used to let me borrow her pencil. Everyone else can feel bad about themselves, because one of the main reasons why I'm dead right now is them.

I wonder if they even realize it.

I've started to realize the difference between dead people and alive people. Believe me, there are tons of both. The alive ones sort of glow, like some sort of soft aura. Dead people look a little grayish, a little blurry around the edges. Those who have been dead for a long time look like they're going out of focus, their faces fading and parts of them practically see-through. No one talks; everyone just thinks to each other. It works pretty well.

Of course, you're not going around hearing every dead person's thoughts. That would be loud and annoying. It's like talking, but more private. You envision who you want to think to, and then you just think whatever you need to. Only they can hear it. It's quite handy, and I've actually begun to make friends among my fellow ghosts. The first guy I met is named Paul, and he really helps me through the whole "Holy shit I'm dead now what" phase. He explains everything about the new world I live in, and the deal with talking.

I can still talk out loud if I want to. But the loudest I can be is the quietest sound lifers (alive people to us dead ones) can hear, so if I want to be heard I have to practically scream. Paul also tells me that my voice will start to go away if I use it too much, so every ounce of sound I have in me is valuable. Paul lost his voice a while ago, but I haven't had the heart to ask him how long he's been dead, or how he died. Somehow the questions seem insensitive.