The walls have eyes

It all starts at the beginning

They say that if you die you're really dead. Gone. The only time you see that loved one again is in your dreams (maybe even nightmares) or in an afterlife of some sorts. But what happens if there's no afterlife? When will you see them again? In the black abyss? In the darkness that engulfs everything around us? For a time that's all I could focus on. For a time that's all I believed. I believed that all the thoughts of afterlife were complete and utter crap. Until this happened. The dreadful day where I found out that the dead don't leave us. They don't die. They're not gone. They're exactly where we are. They never left. They're in the walls. Let me talk you from the beginning as thats where it starts.

The day had arrived. Nope not judgement day or the apocalypse. The funeral. The alarm bleeped and bleeped but the only thing I could hear was my heart racing at the fact that this would be my final chance to tell my mother what I really thought of her. Finally, when the alarm ,after about an hour, got to my head I leisurely stretched out of bed. I put on the typical funeral plain black dress. Plain and black entirely like my mother's soul. I sat down on my dresser stool and just stared at the girl in my reflection and suddenly my eyes began to tear up and a single tear dripped down my made up face and landed in my lap as I gazed at my legs. When I had managed to conceal my emotions, yet again, I stared back up but something was odd in my reflection. There were a pair of deep hazel brown eyes peering at me from my cream wall. They were bloodshot as if they were livid at something... or worse, someone. My head turned cautiously, mentally preparing myself for what I was about to see. Nothing. There was nothing. I kept telling my mind that I saw nothing in the mirror.
Insomnia causes hallucinations, insomnia causes hallucinations, insomnia causes hallucinations

It was eventually time for us to leave. Since my mum was dead and my dad, well... was too depressed to even look after me after the death of my mum my brother took care of me. Together we got to the funeral and it was well exactly just like any other funeral. Many random strangers saying the same old things:
"Your mum was a great person,"
"At least she's in a better place and not suffering,"
Those words were ringing through my ears because my mum was not a great person and neither was she in a better place because like I said at the beginning, she was just going to be sat in a grave for all eternity or at least until the sun burns the earth to a crisp.
"Are you ok?" A deep voice interrupted my spiralling thoughts. It was my brother, Zac.
"What kind of question is that? Mum's dead, dad's god knows where and you..." I paused because I knew this rant would hurt him. Because, in truth, we were both going through the same exact things and there was no right for me to blame anything on him. After all, he was the only one to step up and take care of me when I needed someone. He was almost like a guardian angel. Like he came down from heaven just to help me. I said "almost" as no one is perfect and Zac had his share of problems just like I did. We strolled to his battered vehicle (because since we had no parents Zac was working a part time job to keep up with university fees and well...me) I opened the passenger door and sat down because that's what everyone does when they get in the car unless you are one of those people like from the movies that stand up outside the sun roof and act like you're having the time of your life. Then I really really REALLY dislike you. Because no one can be that happy all the time. The car journey home was awkward. I just sat there watching the scenery go by, hoping that the earth would swallow me up whole.

We got home to a family gathering that you could tell everyone there was trying to avoid the serious topic of my mother's actual personality. The evil, manipulative, psycho bitch kind of personality. I was done. I couldn't listen to this sickeningly sweet talk about my mother anymore. Making as many excuses that my brain could come up with in a few seconds, I left the intoxicating room. Panting, I finally reached my bedroom. I slammed the heavy wooden door shut, surprised that I hadn't knocked it off its hinges. When I saw something. Something that wasn't a hallucination caused by my lack of sleep. Something that my brain couldn't explain. My clear cream walls had been smothered in red... blood. There was nothing in my room as well. My desk, my dresser, my bed... all gone. The only thing left were the hazel brown eyes watching my horrified face from the wall...

Authors random note area
I'll be putting up chapters when I can cos I'm a busy person lol by that I mean watching netflix.