March 18, 2023
Flashing lights covered the area; the ambulance had arrived only a minute ago. It didn't take long for the on-site paramedics to pronounce me dead on the scene. They were unable to find any breath or pulse or movement. As far as they were concerned, it was an open-and-shut case. That didn't surprise the police, who were doing their best to take down my parents and the bystander's testimonies, all while comforting them. It was terrible hearing Mom and Dad crying, watching the truth of my death tear them apart. The pain in their eyes reflected the pain pressing on my soul.
But it wasn't over. I could hear the voice of my little sister and brother coming closer to the scene, questioning what was going on, unaware of the tragedy about to change their lives. My mom was quick to intercept them and hauled them further away from earshot. Thank God. I didn't think I'd be able to bear any more.
Soon, the police took full control of the scene and forced away the crowd of people, then prepared to investigate the crime scene. They all knew it was the work of the serial killer plaguing our town, and I would have to sit through it all.
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I was in my casket, graced with soothing music as my funeral commenced. The worst part was knowing what was going on around me. Family, friends, and friends of the family began arriving one after another to pay their respects. Each was a cue for more sobbing and painful wails.
After a while, my father took a moment for himself to be with me. He spoke for a long time, telling me all the things he'd had planned for me, the college I would've gone to, the job he'd wanted for me. He told of the dreams he had of me growing up and having a good career, how I'd eventually have kids and a wife, and how he dreamed of my brother, sister, and me bringing our families every Sunday to their house for a family dinner. How he longed for grandkids, and how he would've spoiled them with gifts and love. He continued on about how he wanted to go on golf trips with his two sons and show us its ends and outs. With each story, he cried even more.
Mom's turn came next, and she sat with my father. Her final words were just as cutting. She told of what she thought I'd do, who I would've married. She told of how proud she was of the man I was becoming. And the tears ran down like a rapid river as she continued on about how my life was cut too short, how I'd never be able to do the things she wanted for me. How she wouldn't get to see me walk down the aisle, get my first house, graduate. Then she couldn't take anymore just as my siblings joined her and my dad. They cried on each others' shoulders and tried to comfort each other. They told of how I would live on in their memories.
My sister, still too young to understand the situation, took in the scene. In her innocence, she asked Mom, "Why is Troy sleeping in the box? It's day time." This only made my mom cry harder.
But my brother wailed for me to come back and not to leave him. He begged me to stop fooling around and sit up. And I wanted nothing more than to do so. I tried with all my soul to move, but it was misery. It would've been much easier if they'd taken him away, but I guess my parents didn't want him to grow up feeling they'd robbed him of his last goodbye to his older brother.
It wasn't long before the speeches started. Some were from people I knew and loved, and other parts were from a preacher. Every word drove nail after nail deeper into my heart. I hated being the cause of so much hurt. I would have given anything in the world to spare them this.
There was a lot of activity later that day. The priest came and sat with the family and their friends. People streamed in and out of the room. Finally, the lid was placed on the coffin and screwed into place. I was lifted off the table and carried out to the hearse. Then, with Mass out of the way, they carried me to the graveyard, where I could hear every word of the priest's speech and the sobs and moans of the mourners.
Then I was lowered into the ground. I heard each pile of dirt hit the lid as they shoveled it onto my coffin.
"Mommy. Why are they putting all that dirt on Troy?" I heard my little sister ask.
"They're… th-they're burying him, honey," Mom answered.
"But if he gets buried, he won't be able to get out and play with me, Mommy."
"Oh, ho-honey," Mom choked on her words.
"Troy promised me he was going to play with me! No! Stop it! Stop putting dirt on him!" she wailed.
The cries and sobs grew distant as more dirt was put over the coffin, and those were the last words I heard before nothing but silence. I was buried. Seconds later, I was pulled out with a blinding white light. More seconds passed, then I was on that bench again with Blake and The Watcher.
"Troy!" Black shook me. "You were only gone for a minute. What did you see?"
Only a minute?! My expression was haunted.
"Everything," I responded, practically wheezing.
His eyes flared as he sensed the pain radiating off me. He then looked over to The Watcher.
"My turn."
I grabbed Blake by the shoulders and nearly squeezed his arms off. "No! Whatever you do, you can't let her do that to you! Please, Blake, you must listen to me!"
His face wore a mask of panic. "Alright, man. I won't. I promise."
The tears fell from my cheeks as the shock drifted away. "Good."
Now with full control of my body, I sobbed as all those moments replayed in my head. Blake tried to comfort me, but I fell to the ground and curled up in a ball, letting it all out.
My soul was in pieces.