Hard to think that it had all been but a month ago. Or was it only a few weeks? It could've only been an hour, for all he knew. You tended to lose your perception of time after you died, since your heart wasn't beating and all. Couldn't count the seconds without a heartbeat, he soon found out.
He had tried looking at his watch, but always forgot that it had stopped around his death, its cracked face staring up at him. Seven thirty-two. Somehow he always managed to convince himself it was that specific time.
Though, one had little need for time when they were in a gang. A dead one, at that. No, not like zombie. More like vampires. But the gang preferred the term 'heart-beat challenged individuals'.
Despite the vacuum of time that may have passed, he wasn't treated kindly by the other members. On many occasions, he remembered being confronted by a couple of members that looked like children. You could still see the bloodstains on the concrete floor, since no one bothered to clean up.
"Hey, newling!" Ace shouted at him. Or maybe his name was Carl. Wasn't Carl the one who had kicked Roger in the face?
A dull pain invaded the back of his head as a beer can ricocheted off it. "Hey, I'm talking to you. Kevin will be back soon, so youse better clean up."
Kevin. That was the only name he could put a face to; he was the leader. No doubt he'd be back with the rest of the pack so that they might get a kick out of...well, kicking him. He was already sore from the abuse he had suffered from the one who took delight in throwing cans at him. Why had they left him alone with the jerk?
Stupid question. Just start picking up the cans...