Necromancy

Chapter 1

I stared at the neon orange bottle while it glared back; 3 penny-sized pills lay on the bottom. I could take them and avoid a lethal experience but... Maybe I want that. Maybe I want to avoid life and leave everything behind. Leave behind the rent.. the bills... the exams...the bullies. I wouldn't have to work my ass off to pay for the apartment I live in. Actually, not even an apartment..it's more of a room with a bathroom and kitchen. The antique wallpaper is peeling off the walls, leaving a white wall with mold lingering around. The faucet water is polluted and the sewage may as well not work. I try to avoid using these as often as possible. All in all, maybe this room isn't worth the 600 I pay for a month. I work endless hours for this space but I feel like I'm being scammed. Scammed of the money I work so hard for. I don't sleep. I work the night shift at a thrift shop after school and then the overnight shift at McDonald's. The drunk customers make the shift a living hell. It's late and all they want is food without any care to the person who has to deal with their shit. People discriminate the employees that work here; me included. Sometimes customers just come in to laugh at us and splash their drinks "on accident". We go home soaking wet and sticky. It's not easy to wash off soda with a polluted water system and make it to school in an hour. Due to this, I barely have time look in the mirror. Maybe twice a month at most. I shiver at the thought of what stands on the other side.

Reverting my attention back to reality, I continued to stare at the orange container. Reaching my hand over the counter, I wrapped my slender fingers around the object.  Picking it up, I brought it close to me, pressing the cap down and twisting it off. I eyed the single window in this room while doing so, watching the birds fly from tree to tree. I could monologue about wanting to be a bird-flying free, but in this situation, I feel like I'd rather be the hatchling that falls out of the nest. I stood up and slowly made my way over to the window, pill bottle in hand. Turning the handle, the high pitched squealing noise seemed to go on forever. The window hadn't been oiled or even worked properly since I moved in here. Once I had the window open, a gust of wind waltzed into my room and slapped me in the face. I blinked a couple of times, starting to doubt my original intent, but continuing anyway, blocking out the negative thoughts. I listened to the cars pass by at high velocities and parents yelling at cars to slow down. The voice in my head whispered "Now's the time, dear child' Thinking about it one last time, I took the pill bottle in my hand, gripping it tight with white knuckles. I thought about my decision 1 more time. I looked back at the counter and thought debit putting it back. Taking the pills like I should. Shaking my head, I wound up my and chucked it out the window as far as I could into the main street, hoping a car runs over it. The satisfaction I felt was tremendous but there was also the thought that death was imminent. Half smiling and half scared for what I have done, I sighed; Free from the grasp of life and the ticking of time.

I've always had a frail body; falling and getting a large cut despite it being a flat ground, getting a cold and being absent from school for weeks on end. But recently, for an unknown reason, even to doctors, I have started to cough up blood in large amounts. Not knowing what to do, the doctors prescribed me Pneumonia medication. Many different types of it to be exact. It helps with the coughing, but I still cough up blood from time to time.

Once snapping back to reality, again,I watched cars for a few minutes but thought it better to pry myself away from the window. I turned my attention to the clock on my wall. The seconds hand begrudgingly ticked on, pressing along the minute hand as well.

"7:34... I guess you should get moving" Whispered the voice inside my head. I nodded in agreement, closing the window; the squeaking sound resounding throughout the empty room. I looked at my current clothes- A loose, black, cotton t-shirt and a pair of leggings with a small, quarter-sized hole just under the left knee. This should be fine..

Going to the small closet next to the bathroom, I grabbed the used-to-be-white-but-now-looks-like-it's-supposed-to-be-red-gradient oversized windbreaker I had purchased from the thrift store where I work. Pulling my arms through the arm holes, I tugged the rest of my torso in and zipped it up. Shoving my hands into the pockets, I forcibly moved the limbs meant for walking to bring me to the dusty mirror. I looked at myself from bottom to up. Bare feet, dirty to the point of infection. Skinny legs, but enough muscle to hold up my torso. Thighs no longer touching in children sized leggings. Passing over the windbreaker, I looked at my face. My pale, ghost like face. My lips, small and pale, barely any color in sight. My nose, small and pointed. Then I looked back at myself with cold, dead eyes. Any optimism was gone, just a bland, purple color left to look at. Moving upwards, I pulled my mid-back, damaged hair into a high-up, blonde bun. I looked like a teenager, like I'm supposed to, until you look at my face. It looks as though I've aged almost 20 years.

Pulling on a pair of knock off Adidas Advantages, I gave myself one last look in the mirror before heading for the door. Turning the un-oiled knob, the door forced itself open and allowed me to walk through into the brisk air. Coughing a few times, I went back inside to grab a scarf from the "closet". Reaching to the top shelf, I pulled a cheap, black scarf and wrapped it around my neck. Heading back to the door, the brisk air had seeped into the room. Walking into the place I call society, I watched as cars flew by and heard horns honking-the thing you the most when you live in a city. I looked back at the door and closed it. Aiming my attention to the sidewalk, I walked a few steps, then looked back one more time. Ah yes, the shitty house with an amazing exterior that blends in with the rest of the fancy apartments or the wooden shacks of London.

Returning my attention to the road, I chugged along at a slow pace. I didn't want to travel at the moment, especially to school. Kids will mock me for my body again. Or maybe they'll say "Why don't you just buy a new pair of leggings, broke ass". Once again, I could monologue why I hate everyone at this godforsaken school but, I feel like you can infer my situation.

With these thoughts in mind, I made an instantaneous decision. I kept walking. When I reached the school gates, I continued down the cracked and malformed path. I wouldn't stop. I didn't have anything to stop for. The only thing that could possibly stop me was death..which caught up pretty quickly. As I was walking, I had picked up to a sprint. I was running through the city, past alleyways and people. Faces flying by and the wind in my face. For once, I was smiling. I felt true joy as I ran away from every issue that had held me down. But one thing wasn't flying. I stopped in my tracks. The first sign of injury came when blood appeared on my hands. A strong blow had been received by my gut. I coughed, blood splattering everywhere. I broke into a cold sweat, dropping to the ground. My coughing wouldn't stop. My eyes were watering and no one was trying to stop and help the girl who looked like a hobo.  The culprit was nowhere in sight and so, I thought I should hide too. I pulled myself in an alleyway, the things I have looked away from for years in fear of what could happen. I used to watch movies with my parents, R rated or not, it was family time, but that ended as soon as mom passed on.

Looking at the ground, I was sitting in a puddle of blood. At this rate, I could die. I know I said It'd be better to move on but.. I still fear death. Everyone does. Its natural, right? My head began to feel.. Cloudy. Any sounds of the streets and cars were replaced by a loud ring and everything around me became fuzzy. Despite all of this, my body refused to stop coughing and spewing blood. Any chance of survival was slim to none. I was still in a state of a cold sweat, tears streaming down my face. My limbs refused to move anymore so there was no chance of escape. Was this what would kill me? A fist to the stomach from some unknown person?

The last thing I experienced before life faded in front of my eyes was two blobs, assuming they're legs, make their way over to my dying body, and my voice, hoarse and weak, cry out for help.