Reece. The Recently Deceased.

Chapter 1: The Real World

Riiiiiinnngggg, Riiiiiinnngggg, Riiiinnnggg

"No, no, no, no," I whisper repetitively for the first 5 minutes that I'm waking up. I stayed up most of the night trying to figure out a way to pay for his placement fee. I had just laid down to sleep in this meager motel room when the alarm clock went off, signaling my impending day of doom. Am I being overdramatic? Maybe. Will I live through this day? Probably, but I don't know if I'm going to want to live without him.

There are three facts swirling through my head that keep me from moving out of bed:

1. My only friend in this damned city, known to most as my brother Reece, is dead.

2. He was killed in an fire that wiped out our entire house, and of course all of our life savings.

3. Due to number 2, I now cannot afford to have my brother properly buried. He will be a mindless corpse slave that cleans toilets or does any other stupid jobs that no one wants to do.

Am I being overdramatic now?

I know that laying in bed all day will just delay the inevitable, so I get out of bed. I just need to get this over with. I get dressed in all black. I know most people today wear bright colors when they mourn to ward off negative emotions, but I read an article once on ancient cultures that would wear black in respect to the dead. I agree with them. Sometimes I wonder if things were better back then.

When I'm finished getting dressed, I grab my keys and head out the door of my motel room. Seeing all the people walking around is the worst. They don't understand what I'm feeling and they just keep living their lives as if my world isn't crumbling around me. The mentality of Worker Bees has become the norm. I hate everything about this world. 

As I make my way through the park to the Deceased Payment Building (seriously, not making this up), I walk through the trees as if in a daze. I don't realize where I am until the lady at the desk asks me my name. 

"Name," she says, as if I'm an angsty teenager trying to ruin her day. 

"Rocan Warner, " I say in a more depressed tone than I meant for.

"Oh yes. You. Right then."

"Um, What? I don't und-" I try to say, but her look makes my voice drop from my lips.

"Come with me." As she walks away into the back room, I have no choice but to follow her. What I thought was a back room is actually a large hallway, which leads to a very cold, dark room. She suddenly opens another much smaller door that has a large computer in the corner. My mind feels numb as my eyes focus on him. 

My brother, my Reece, my everything, is dead, on a metal slab.

Of course you would. You were always the smart one. You decided to hide in my closet, the only possible way to survive. It was fireproof. But not smoke proof.  Of all the ways to die in a burning, colapsing house, lack of oxygen was the only one you couldn't escape. So here your body lies, intact, ready for them to steal you from me. Is it selfish of me to wish you had burned? At least then they would have nothing to take over.