We're Already Dead

Chapter 1

I sat on the chair with my head hung low as the guests paid their respects to the bead body in the casket. My fingernails were painted black. The black hat I wore blocked my eyes so no one could see the tears that ran down my checks.

All day has been a series of 'we're sorry for your lost' and 'he was a good man' thrown at my face. I smiled at them and shook their hands in respect, but that didn't help rid the pain I felt in my heart. My body had become weak. My thoughts turned slightly suicidal. What bothered me most was the fact that my mother didn't even take it upon herself to come to her ex husband's funeral.

The man that raised me when my mother didn't want me was now gone. He was the one who waked me up every morning for school and prepared breakfast for me. He was the one who thought me to ride my first bike. He was the one who tucked me in bed at night. He was all I had. He was the only person who actually took care of me.

She didn't want me. She didn't care for me. She left when I was a baby. She cursed my very existence and avoided direct contact with me. She hated me. She moved halfway across the country and now that he was gone, I had no choice but to move in with her. I had to spent my entire life with a woman I barely knew who refused to come to the funeral.

"Jesse?" I reluctantly glanced up at the female voice. Before me stood my childhood school friend.

"Tricia," a said a bit surprised that it was her. I haven't seen her in a few years. All I knew was that she married her high school sweetheart. I got up from the chair and embraced her in a hug.

"I'm so sorry for your loss," she said with sympathy.

"Thank you for coming. It means a lot."

"I know. Listen, if you ever need anything, Ben and I are always willing to help."

"Thanks Tricia. But I may not stay here for very long. I'm moving..."

"Where to?" she asked with curiosity.

"With my mother," she didn't bother to ask any more questions after that. She knew well enough that I hated her. She seemed a bit confused at first at the sudden decision but I was thankful she realized that it was probably not the best time for questions.

I couldn't stay at the funeral for very long, the very thought if his dead body lying there in a white casket was terrifying enough, much less to engage in fake smiled conversations with people right in front of him. I caught a cab to the house where we lived. It was my last night there.

The funny part is that we had planned on selling it. In fact, the house was already purchased by a local business man but he agreed to let us stay for another month or two. We were moving into a much larger house downtown. I never even could the opportunity to check it out.

The two boxes with all my prized possessions lined the hallway to my room where two suitcases lay waiting for the next morning. My room was small but it felt even smaller and lonely. The entire house itself felt empty. The tranquility was unnerving.

I pushed away the feeling and proceed with a shower; my last shower in that house. Quickly I changed and climbed into bed, staring up at the ceiling above me until eventually my eyelids felt a bit heavy. That was my last night in that bed where my father and I used to jump on until midnight.

I remembered all the things we used to do. Every Friday we would stay up late and watch ghost busters until eventually we watched every single episode, eating popcorn loaded with butter and drinking cola. It was our 'guilt night', on nights like those we allowed ourselves the guilty pleasure of stuffing our faces with whatever junk food we desired and not feeling bad about it. But of course; all good things must come to an end. It reminded me of a story.