• This is the third chapter of Death is no joke. Follow the links:

    Death is no joke: http://gaiaonline.com/arena/writing/fiction/vote/?entry_id=100410509

    Death is no joke-Part 2: http://gaiaonline.com/arena/writing/fiction/vote/?entry_id=100411039






    I could feel my body jolt back to life. I opened my eyes. I was in a hospital, laying down on a couch in the waiting room. I quickly got up, and buried my face in my hands. Why? Why was I here? What the heck was going on?
    Then I remember. Last night, the murder. My parents were dead. Dead as a doornob, however dead a doornob might be.

    "You're up," a voice above me said.

    "Y-yeah, I suppose I am..." I replied, instantly lifting my head. It was a nurse. Pretty, I guess, but I suppose all nurses are somewhat pretty. She was holding a clipboard, and tapping it with her pencil, a nervous habbit, I supposed. She smiled at me.

    "What of my parents?" I said abruptly, getting straight to the point. The nurse frowned for a second, then quickly regained her composure.

    "Would you like a drink?" she asked, just as abruptly trying to change the subject. "Apple juice?" I shook my head.

    "Are they dead?" I persisted. She put down her clipboard, and sat next to me.
    She folded her hands, and put them to her forehead. I could see a tear rolling down her cheek, as she looked at me and told me,

    "I'm so sorry...Your father is dead. And your mother has a severe coma." I was out. I didn't know what to say, I didn't know how to react. Not that I really doubted that they were dead. Just that...having it comfirmed and said to my face was horrible. I got up, and rushed to the bathroom.

    I locked myself in the stall. I kicked at the wall, snarling and growling, tears pouring down my cheeks. I looked up at the ceiling, and started shouting,

    "Is that how you wanna play?! YOU WANNA PLAY THAT WAY?!?! Fine! I'll..." Tears replaced my anger, and I said quietly,

    "I'm sorry, God. I'm so...sorry." I tried to look at things in a positive way. Well, my mother wasn't dead. Officially, that is. She was in a coma. Although it's hard to think of someone being in a concussion a "relief".

    It is so cliche for one to say in a story "it felt like it was a dream. It wasn't real". But that's how it honestly felt. You will never understand this sort of feeling until you're going through it.

    I sat on the tiolet for another two hours. Thoughtless, speechless. This wasn't a dream. It was a nightmare.