Two Years Ago
The stares of all the other girls are so strong, so full of hate, that I can feel them burning through me, right down to my very soul. They feel no remorse for me, no sympathy.
My brother died yesterday.
The shock of it was the worst. Then the fear. I knew that this would happen if he died, but I never expected everyone to hate me as much as they did.
Okay, so my brother had been two weeks away from his eighteenth birthday, two weeks away from safety. Anyone who dies after their eighteenth birthday is safe. Safe from being dragged from the world of the dead as something, unreal, unhuman, unwanted.
I fear seeing Chris return, because I know that he won't be the same. Somewhere deep inside, I thought that maybe, just maybe, a spark of humanity would still be inside of him. But that isn't going to happen. Everyone knows that.
I walk out of the school gates slowly. No one steps too close; as if having a relative under eighteen dying is contagious, a deadly disease. I walk down the road, and my pace increases as I leave the hateful glares behind. By the time I reach the park, I am running, my blonde hair flying out behind me, whipping in my eyes.
Collapsing under a tree just inside the park, I bury my face in my hands. I never knew it would be so hard. I have heard all the stories, though.
Any teenager, who dies before they are eighteen and after they are twelve, return. They are evil, the media make sure we understand that. We are taught it in school, we read about it in books, you can see it in posters splashed all across London. They are evil.
They aren't one of us anymore.
Well, that's obvious, I tell myself. But he is still my brother. My evil, immortal brother, maybe, but he is still important to me, even if my parents are denying he ever existed.