Sweet Dead Sixteen

Chapter 4

One second I was in my body and the next I wasn’t. About an hour passed and I was still huddled in a corner of my room. I couldn’t even look at my body. I felt so cold. I half glided half walked to my mirror; I felt weightless—as light as a feather. I didn’t recognize my ghostly reflection; my hair was sleek and platinum, my complexion was clear and slightly glowing, and my skin was even paler than it usually was. I seemed kind of transparent. My white night gown was partially blood stained and there were red lines on my wrists where I had cut. I looked so disturbing, like something straight out of a horror movie! I went back to my corner and hugged my knees to my chest. I allowed what had just happened to sink in. I was dead. I was a ghost. I began to sob, even though no one would hear me. Soon my poor mother would come to wake me for school, only this time I would not be waking up. Ever.

As I predicted my door slowly opened and my mother quietly walked in, “Angel honey, it’s time to get up, you’re going to be late for school. Oh, and we’ll celebrate your birthday when you come home. I want to treat you to something special. Please get up dear.” She walked closer to my bed, “Angel?” She let out a strangled wail, “Angel!!! No, ohh God no! My baby!”

New tears welled up in my eyes and slid down my cheeks. Finally getting a grip, she tried to put her medical training to the test, she pushed two shaky fingers to my neck to try and find a pulse. In that moment she knew I was dead, but still she put both of her hands on my chest and pumped up and down. She was trying to get my lifeless heart to beat. I looked away. I could not bear the sight of my hysterically desperate mother trying to bring me back to life. She finally gave up knowing it was useless and I wasn’t going to wake up, she frantically dialed 911.

 I could hear the faint wail of an ambulance and police cars. The sirens grew louder and louder until they reached my house. Paramedics brought in a stretcher while the police questioned my grief stricken mother. They checked my pulse just in case, and then lifted me onto the cold stretcher. They covered my lifeless body with a white sheet and wheeled it out of my room. My mother sobbed uncontrollably as they took me away. I wanted to go to her and tell her everything was going to be okay. Shadows consumed me and danced in and out of the corners of my room; my own personal hell.