Dead

“I’m sorry for your loss, stay strong.” my uncle pinches my shoulder firmly.

“Thank you.” I say, blowing into my napkin and dabbing my eyes with my sleeves. 

“If you ever need help, call us. We’re there by your side.” my aunt wraps her arms around me. I nod in response, remembering to let out a feeble sob before she let go. Arm in arm, they give me a wave and depart, along with dozens others that attended the funeral. 

Didn’t know a bastard like him could have that many friends. 

I crumple the napkin and dump it on the ground, chafing my hang joyously. Now he is gone, there is nobody that can bother me anymore. “Oooh look at that golden watch! Oooh look at his degree! Oooh he owns ten thousand islands! How great! How tall! How handsome!” I imitate my relatives in mocking voices, kicking the dirt on his grave. “How’d you like that, huh? Six feet under the ground, not so great anymore, eh?”  

I squat down, examining his marble tombstone. Dead. As dead as a doornail. I tell myself. That heart attack took him well. 

Today is such a great day. How can a milkshake be magnificent without a cherry on top? It is decided, a scrumptious meal as a celebration for a day like today! I can already feel the lamb sauce calling out my name from far away, stretching out for miles.

“Great great great great great!” I hop on my bike and pedal away. 

###

It turns out, I overestimated my wallet, but a burger can still do. Nothing can ruin this day for me now. 

I take a large bite on the soft bread, teeth gnashing through the crisp layer of cabbage, sinking into the meat and the tomato sauce. Slices of pickles fall out from another side. I patiently pick them up and sandwich them between the bread again. The funeral even soothed my hot temper, how miraculous! If only he can die more than once I will be completely cured. 

Looking out the window, cars whizz pass on the road. Passer-bys in various fashionable clothes waddle up and down the streets. I bob my head as a song comes up inside my head like a hidden MP3 player is shoved inside my skull. 

I squint my eyes. There is somebody standing opposite the street, looking at me, the whites of his teeth twinkling under the sun. 

Is that- I choke on my food, coughing as a waitress hurries towards me to whack my back.  “Sir, sir! Are you okay, sir?” the waitress questions. I stand up and throw down my burger, bolting out the restaurant. She exclaims, “Where are you going? You haven’t paid, sir! Come back here, sir!” I stagger outside under the sun, trying to get a good view of the person before a bulky man tackles me and presses my cheek on the sizzling pavement of the street.

###

No no no no, it mustn’t be him, he’s dead!

I splash my face with water. The transparent liquid streams down from the tap of the sink. I look at myself in the mirror, blinking at my tousled hair and the fresh bruise. “I must’ve been dazed!” I tell myself, throwing my finger. “Yeah, yes. You’re dazed.” I wobble into my 4 x 4 meters living room consisting of an old ripped sofa and a blocky antenna television, taking deep breaths. 

Reclining, my hand scavenges for the remote control on the arm rest where it is usually left on but only managed to grab a fistful of air. “Where are you?” I bend down, tilting my head left and right and find it resting underneath the sofa. 

“There you are,” I smile as I dust away the cobwebs sticking on it, aiming it at the television. That is when I see his shady reflection on the black screen behind me. 

I screech and throw myself off the chair, clambering backwards. He is there, a smile carved onto his face. “Hello, Thomas.” he greets and ambles towards me. I fling my hand. “Stay back! Stay back!” I scurry to the door, without opening it, and bust through the cheap material of brittle plastic.

I look back. He is still chasing me. I wail and run down the street, arms in the air as though I am on a rollercoaster. Ding, the elevator door slides open revealing a man inside with eyes sticking to his phone. Instantly the second before he steps out I sling him in front of me as a meat barrier as I leap inside the elevator, nail pecking at the ground floor button. “Oh hello!” I hear the man say through the slit of closing doors. 

I slump in the corner of the descending box, my arms and legs turn into cooked noodles. My forehead perspires. What have I done? I tear at my hair. I just killed someone! I can imagine ten thousand ways how that poor bystander is going to get tortured by the ghoul of my dead brother, skinned, gutted, set on fire… It is too horrible to imagine. 

For the first time, I clasp my hand together and pour my heart and the last of my sanity into mumbling prayers. Bones jittering under pounds of flesh.

Ding, the doors open. A wall of crowd freezes as they see my terrified expression. “Don’t go up! I beg you! Somebody died up there!” I shout, arms stretching out from my sides to stop them from coming in. “You’re blocking the way!” an old lady grumbles, back arched with her wrinkled hands holding a pink-coloured purse with a rose as a button. The people mutter in agreement. 

“Please! You have to believe me! My dead brother’s ghost is up there and he just killed someone!” my voice cracks.

“Are you sure that he is up there?” the old lady sinks her cherry nails into her neck, peeling off her skin as her back straightens with continuous snaps from the spine. My brother’s face grins at me. “And not here?”

I shriek. Preventing myself from fainting I squeeze through the crowd, dodging the old lady’s grabby hands. My eyes are boiling. I dart outside the apartment, running down several lanes without stop. If I had this much adrenaline, I could have won the Olympics.

Finally, I trip over a can and fall. Rolling on the ground, I see him, he’s everywhere! By the lamp posts, in the cars, on the balcony watering flowers, smiling devilishly, their eyes glueing on me. I can barely breathe after all this running, my lungs shrivelled in exhaustion.

Suddenly, I feel a jab of pain in my chest. I gasp and collapse on the ground, clutching my heart, moaning, coiling into a ball.

The sly smirk on his multiple faces twist into shocks. “Call the ambulance!” I hear one of them say in a woman’s voice. I close my eyes.

Black.

Light floods my vision. Is this...heaven?

“No, Thomas. This is a hospital.” a familiar raspy voice echoed from beside me. 

I open my eyes wider, discovering that I am surrounded by people, and one of them is my brother. Before I start to squeak, nurses hold me down on the mattress, strapping my wrists. “It’s just a prank, Thomas! It’s just a prank!” they tell me. 

“A prank?! Are you kidding me, Max?! I was nearly scared to death! LITERALLY!” I holler, face red with fury.

“I know! But it was fun, isn’t it?” my brother sat by the bed, legs crossed and his gold watch glinting under the lamp, his confident smile glowing. 

“Not fun at all if it was you!” I gnash my teeth.

“Come on, lil’ bro! If you're serious, you lose!” he shoots a glance at the throng, the actors that scattered over the town to put up this act, drawing a laugh from them. 

“That’s why I hate you, Max! You only know how to humiliate me in front of others!”

They gasp. His brows come together. “Humiliate you? What I was saying are facts, Thomas! Maybe you should stop feeling jealous at my achievements and start doing something meaningful not going around boo-hooing like a loser!”

I blink my tears away, “BOO-HOOING?! No, this isn’t about facts and losers, you useless peacock! This is about RESPECT!” 

“Why don’t you do something to earn my respect?” He pulls his tuxedo tightly together, standing up. “You need a change, Thomas. A very big change. Now, Thomas, you are already dead. Thomas Henderson, age 32, death from heart attack.”

The actors nod at each other. The atmosphere turns suspicious, even the nurses refuse to look at me. 

“What are you trying to do to me?” I questions, fear pounding in my ears.

“Turning you into a better person. A person that fits my status. I’m giving you a chance to be reborn.” he runs his fingers along his slick black hair. He claps, “Send him into the surgery room.”

“What? No,no, no, no! Please! Let me go!” I struggle. A nurse injects a syringe into my arm. The bed slowly manoeuvres. “Max! You’re a moron!”, I screech as I see them growing smaller and smaller in the distance, my brother’s hand behind his back.

“He’ll thank me one day.” he beams.