Trapped in the Afterlife

Chapter 2- Last Tear, First Truth

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To my best friend! Thanks for the help (mainly in giving Tammy her amazing name), support and kind ear listening to my never-ending bla bla on my stories :D

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Alone. That’s what I was; alone. I walk the world, empty, without a physical body, unable to go to that place people go when they die. I’m stuck in an eternal, endless and pointless roaming; stuck with my memories and my wounds. I look at myself and all I see is the dead corpse with the gash in her neck; the normal girl who was murdered for no reason. I see the sin of the murderer who was never found for his crime. I remember that the police and even my parents agreed to drop the investigation after barely a year. What was I really to them?!

“Mommy!” I screamed. The car was heading straight for me. I was shivering with fear so much that I couldn’t even cry.

“Tammy!!” she yelled back from the sidewalk. No one held her back, yet she stood there barely a trace of sadness or fear on her face.

No one moved as the car smashed into my small body. Pedestrians walking by, cyclists, other cars; no one bothered to try and save the little girl.

I spent months in the hospital attached to machines. I was lucky they said, my young age and small body permitted me to roll onto the hood of the car and then be thrown back onto the ground as the driver stomped on the brakes. However, luck is a big word. Sure, I was alive but I spent three years after that recovering from the accident. Broken bones take time to heal especially when you have many broken bones; both legs at multiple places, a wrist, an elbow, a shoulder, three ribs on my right side which collided with the car, my left hip which collided with the road and a slight brain trauma from the shake of it all. Lucky?

I was five when the accident happened. Eight when I can confirm that I was fully healed from it. On my eighth birthday, my father came home smiling more than ever.

“Guess what I got you for your birthday, Tammy!” he exclaimed, kneeling in front of me in our small living room.

“A new palace for my barbies?” I asked, more enthusiast then I had ever been.

Mother was standing by the door, a small content smile on her face as she watched us. Suddenly, my father pulled out a box from his coat pocket and handed it over to me. I quickly ripped open the paper and opened the box that resembled a ring box. Inside was a simple silver key; alright, maybe not made of pure silver but it was silver colored.

“What is it, daddy?” I asked, taking the key and holding it up. I counted how many teeth it had and watched how it shined; it was brand new.

“It’s the key to our new cottage! Its going to be our second home and you’ll be safe there.” He stood up and walked over to my mother who took him in a great hug. Their love for each other was obvious and she looked incredibly happy about this news. But was this really a good birthday gift for an eight year old? Or was it more a gift for them?

We moved out of the apartment we had in town and moved into the cottage.  I spent two years living there, isolated from the world and home schooled while my parents still went to work every day. When I was ten I threw a fit and my parents agreed that we could finally move back in an apartment in town and keep the cottage for the summer. I started public school and finally my life seemed to be back to normal.

Another two years passed and my mother learned that she was pregnant but a trip down the stairs at her work place canceled the future of that child. My mother went into a depression, my father bought me a compass watch since I got lost regularly in the forests and I started my teenage years as a lonesome, anti-social nerd.

I would never have thought that my boring life would end only five years later and that barely a few months after my death my parents would have replaced me with another child whom they had shown more love and attention to. Alone, yes, that was what I was.