Prologue
A/n: okay just read Everlost (awsome book highly recomend!) and this came about. More to come.
“You know how they say everyone wants to live forever”? Well trust him it’s not all it’s cracked up to be, but maybe it’s just the way he’s been living it…Or not living it as it happens to be the case. Since he wasn’t alive anymore so much as he was not-completely-dead.
He’d always remember the day he crossed…even if he didn’t get where he was going.
It had been raining that much he remembered in stark white clarity. He remembered the way the thunder rattled the windows in their frames and jogged streaks of lightning tore across the sky. Like the backdrop for some B-rated horror movie. Whenever he thought out his crossing it made him laugh at the pure irony of it. Because is so many ways his death and after-life did read like the script for some second-rate horror movie.
Son meets untimely death, and as soon as he’d figured out how he’d h ad a hell of a lot of fun haunting the house he’d lived in while he’d been alive and scaring the crap out of his parents.
That is until they got tired of his antics and ditched him to go live in Jersey. But that was okay because they’d only been waiting to ditch him when he’d been alive too. So in that his not-life wasn’t that much different. Except now it was him pushing them that were the problem, not him pushing them apart.
As much as he loved his parents, he hated them. They were too noisy, too loud, and too angry. They were always made about something. Mad at each other, mad at him, made at the world. There was too much anger too much tension and in the end the entire thing had been like a bomb waiting to go up in smoke. But the thing about a bomb is if you take away the fuse the bomb’s as good as defused, and as he’d discovered to his dismay (or relief he hadn’t quite decided yet) the fuse was him, and in a weird sort of way he’d happy for them even if it does involve him being dead.
But back to his crossing, thunder rumbled in the distance, and the rain pounded his window as a flash of lightning lit up the night sky. He remembered that he’d been listening to his iPod blasting MCR so loud he could feel in pounding in his temples. But above the storm, above the music he could hear them screaming. They were so damn loud, and he was tempted to turn off his music and press his ear to the door to find out what they were arguing about, but he already knew what’d started it and they said the same damn things every time, till he could practically recite them in his sleep.
But the funny thing was he couldn’t remember what they’d been arguing about. He remembered that he’d know he just couldn’t remember now. It was just so unimportant that in the five years it’d been dead that it slipped his mind completely like several other thing. Including his name, his parents never mentioned him (he liked to think it was out of grief and not that they’d forgotten him, but who knows) and he wasn’t in the habit of referring to himself in third person so he hadn’t needed one. And one day he realized that it was just…gone. Just like many other things he hadn’t needed like how to do quadratics, and all the major facts about Brittany Spears except the vague feeling he disliked her…whoever she was. Classmate maybe? That crazy lady who lived down the street…No that was Mrs. Meredith something. But the point was what his parents were arguing was unimportant. What was important was the fact that they were always arguing.
All his parents’ marriage problems stemmed from the rocky start of their relationship…or lack thereof. Its wonders what a couple of glasses of alcohol can do to a person’s inhibitions, and next thing you know you’ve gotten the woman who sits behind you in college algebra pregnant. So out of some Moral obligation you marry her and your life goes downhill from there, and some days he really, really wished he’d been put up for adoption. The day he’d died had been one of them. He’d decided that he was tired of the yelling so he called his friend and asked if he could crash at his house he (foolishly) declined the offered ride saying he could walk…he didn’t make it five feet out the front door before he heard the screeching of tires. He felt himself slam into the pavement, except it wasn’t the pavement it was the wall of a tunnel and he could see a bright light and he felt a moment of calm and longing before the impact sent him bouncing into the other wall of the tunnel and everything went black.
He didn’t wake up until long after his funeral was over, which in a way kind of sucked because he was curious what people said about him not that it mattered.