Sudden Departure

Chapter Eighteen

For the first few minutes on my mission I struggled with the front door. Then, I realized I was dead. I squeezed my eyes shut and pushed through the front door. Going the through the thick wood felt like it did when I went through the portal in the Barracks, just quicker and not as dramatic.

The sight of the entryway hit me like a sad, heavy blow to the gut. Almost every inch was covered in thick gray dust. Dust particles floated in the air like sad, little pixies looking for a place to rest. Only, they couldn't rest. The house was stripped of furniture and pictures and left bare.

As I walked through the house cautiously I found that everywhere else was in the same state. Dusty, empty, and depressing.

There were absolutely no pictures left on the wall. Except for ones of me. Along the walls in the house any pictures of me were still hanging up. Covered in dust my red hair still showed through the glass. From the time of my birth to the time I died my life sat hanging in front of me, untouched.

Tears swelled in my eyes. I turned away from the walls and started up the stairs to my room. Or, what used to be my room.

I always thought sadness didn't physically hurt. It was a mental pain that only hurt your soul. That view changed when I learned that I died. It also grew when I stepped onto the second-floor landing and proceeded to my room.

The heavy scent of my perfume hit my face. I furrowed my eyebrows and made my way to the end of the hall. I pressed my hand against the smooth door and pushed. The door swung back and hit the wall revealing my bedroom.

Everything was just how I left it. Jeans and sweaters still on the floor. My desk still cluttered with unfinished homework and reports. My bed unmade with a towel strewn across it.

I stared blankly into the room. The force of this hit me harder than the emptiness of the house, or even the pictures of me still on the walls.

The hole in my chest had been healing. I started to forget about my death because I was so caught up in finding a place in a world that I didn't understand.

Just then, the seams I had sewed in myself at the Barracks ripped open. Tears and overwhelming sadness surged forward through me as I sank to my knees and buried my head in my hands. My family left all of my things behind. My clothes, my furniture, even my smell. They moved away and left my memories.

I curled into a ball on the ground and sobbed. I clutched my chest and tried to hold the hole together. I was sitting in the position my mom was two years ago. Crying and blubbering over a lost cause. Both over death, one over forgetting, and the other being forgotten.

I laid there for what seemed like hours just breathing in my room for what might have been the last time I saw it. Then, I sat up and pushed off the leather jacket, slipped off the boots and jeans, pulled out the earrings, and took off the t-shirt.

I sat in my underwear before crawling in the dark to my dresser. I fished out a pair of faded skinny jeans, a gray tank-top, and a baggy sweater. I put it all on with mismatched socks and dirty Converse.

I closed my eyes and when I opened them I was in front of Cameron's house. His parents' cars were gone and his blue truck sat (still rusting) in the driveway. I smiled. I was pleasantly surprised to find that Cam had kept his car even after two years.

I breathed in deeply and went up to the big bay window looking into Cameron's living room. The TV glowed onto the porch in the dusk. Inside, peaking from above the couch I saw Cameron's messy mop head. His arm was stretched across the back of the couch showing his arching, newly formed muscles.

Suddenly, he shifted up straighter at the same time a girl with a messy, blonde bun sat up and stiffened.

"Cameron," Ally said uneasily.